Vanessa began to scream.

She awoke to the sound of her own screams and found her abductor staring down at her. Her heart was pounding in her chest and despite being naked, she was sweating.

“Sweet dreams?”

Vanessa ignored the comment and wrapped her arms across her chest.

“Get up.”

She didn’t move.

He pulled his gun and pointed it at her.

“Get up now.”

Keeping one arm across her chest, she pushed herself to her feet. She was weak from not having any food or water and the room spun as she stood. For a moment she thought she might fall, but when he reached out to steady her, she pulled back and forced herself to stand upright.

“Hold out your hands.”

She did as she was told and he produced zip ties. Looping them around her wrists, he pulled them tight. They cut into her wrists but she held her tongue. She was not giving this animal any more satisfaction.

Grabbing her by the zip ties, he pulled her along behind him towards the garage. He opened the door and she started down the steps, almost pitching forward face first onto the floor. He jerked her upright before she could fall and put her into the back of his truck.

He reached into his pocket and produced another set of zip ties, this time proceeding to pull them tight around her ankles. The metal truck bed was cold and hard. Every way she turned hurt her. Lastly, he put a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Pulling the truck topper door down, he twisted the lock shut and left her there.

Vanessa was glad to leave the room and it’s writing on the walls behind her but she knew that being put in the truck meant he was moving towards the last step in his ritual. He was taking her to be sat up against her own tree. The one she would die against.

****

Norman locked the topper door and went back in the house. He suspected that every cop in the state was looking for his pick-up, which was why he was going to take this ‘Marcie’ out in the middle of the night. His problem was that his preferred place to kill was a forest and, at two in the morning, he couldn’t be traipsing through a forest with a flashlight. It was too risky, especially since they knew where he normally went.

He sat in a chair in the living room and tried to come up with an alternative. He saw an old photo of he and Mark Jensen. Mark had been his only friend in high school. The picture was of the two of them in Arnold Park. It was their favorite place to hang out when the weather was hot. Mainly because of all the shade trees.

Of course! Arnold Park. It’s perfect. Trees and enough light from the surrounding area to see. I’ll Have to get away in a hurry, the gunshot will be heard, but it’s perfect.

He took the picture off the wall and looked at it. He remembered telling Mark about his plan to ask Marcie Walker out and how Mark had warned him not to. His friend was right, of course. She had rejected him. Norman had made her pay. In fact, he made them all pay. Arnold Park was a good choice for this Marcie, he decided.

Norman laid the picture on the table and went out to the truck.

****

Vanessa heard Norman get into the truck. He started it and activated the garage door opener. She listened as the chain pulled the door all the way up and braced herself as the truck started backing out onto the street. She was shaking from the combination of fear and the cold truck bed. Her face still hurt from the blow against the wall but otherwise she was unhurt from her ordeal. She knew that was about to change.

She continued trying to stretch the zip tie restraints but was only hurting herself. They weren’t going to come loose. She examined the inside of the truck, each passing streetlight giving her a brief glimpse. She needed something sharp. Anything that might help her get free. There was nothing.

Come on girl, think. You know you’re headed to the woods. He’s gonna undo your feet to make you walk. You may be weak but you can still fight back, you have to. For Rob, for the baby. You’ve played it soft, counting on Jason to find you. Now, it’s up to you. You can’t wait for anybody to come. You have to give it your best shot.

The pep talk she gave herself made her feel better, a little less helpless.

The truck began to slow and finally came to a stop.

****

Jason had blown stoplights and ignored speed limits to get back over to the neighborhood where both Marcie Walker’s parents lived and, according to a records search, Norman Lasiter lived.

Jason guessed the suspect lives in the same house he grew up in, just blocks from the people whose daughter he murdered. Somehow, I should have figured it out.

As he turned down Rio Grande street, he slowed to a crawl. He didn’t want to alert their killer by flying down the road but everything in him wanted to do just that. To go barrelling into the driveway, rush the house and if drawn on, put this animal down. He knew it was too risky. He controlled himself and moved down the street slowly until he got to 119,121,123. When he got to 125, his heart sank. The garage door was open and the black truck was nowhere to be seen.

Jason wheeled into the drive and called the lieutenant, informing him that he was there at the house and the truck was on the move. He got out and went into the garage, up the steps and slowly opened the door. Pausing, he drew his gun and listened for any sound. None came.

“Police!”

He waited. Nothing.

“Norman Lasiter, this is the police!”

Still nothing. He fought the nausea that came with smelling the house and checked the living room. From there he made his way into the kitchen. The filth and smell were overpowering. Having cleared the main house, he started down the hall towards the bedrooms.

The door to the first was open and the room was a mess, like everything else. The second door was closed, and when he opened it, he found what was apparently Norman’s mother’s room. The bed was made and it was the only room so far that wasn’t a disaster. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t been touched since the last time she was there.

Jason opened the third bedroom door, flipped on the light switch and stopped. There was writing all over the wall and it took him several tries before he could make sense of it.

I will never call you bloodstain again.

Each time he saw a different handwriting, he would read it out loud.

I will never call you bloodstain again.

He realized that he had said it three or four times before it dawned on him what he was doing. This is what Stephanie Morris was talking about.

At the far end, in green marker, was a handwriting he recognized. It was Vanessa’s and his knees nearly buckled just from thinking of her there, forced to write something over and over, that she probably didn’t understand. He saw the closet at the far end, just as Stephanie had described, but it had a lock on it.

The mattress caught his eye. His mind began to picture Vanessa on it. He turned and walked out. He still had a job to do and focusing on anything else wasn’t going to help.

Moving back into the living room, he began looking for any clue that might tell him where Norman Lasiter might have taken Vanessa. The lieutenant was already on his way to the state forest that had been Norman’s previous drop site. Jason doubted that he would go back there, but he didn’t have a clue where he would go.

He scanned the room. No computer. No open books or maps. He checked by the phone for notes and found none. He went into the kitchen, checking for notes stuck on the fridge. He came up empty.