 |
||
The Quintessential Q
Chapter Fifty Seven
Say a little Prayer for Me
Emily and Rita look at each other through the premature darkness inside the boarded up apartment as they hear the soft click of a key in the door. Emily glances over at the bathroom door; it is closed. Rita stands behind the front door. The door swings open and Emily is blinded by a high power flashlight. "Where is the brat?" Is growled in her direction.
"She's in the bathroom." Emily looks off to the side of the figure blinking to try to get her night vision back.
The figure steps in closer clearing the front door. Without a weapon, Rita's only option is to make a break for it. She stealthily slides behind the dark clad figure in a ski mask. The figure feels the brush of disrupted air behind it and hollers out a warning. "The little bitch is making a break for it!"
There is the sound of a fight in the hallway and low swearing. A taller figure hauls Rita back in the room his hand cruelly twisting Rita's braid tethering her to him. Rita continues to fight lashing out at her assailant going for the knees, the groin anything that will put him on the ground. She threatens him with what her father, her brother and every cop in the tri-state area are going to do to him once they get caught. Growing impatient with the little girl's taunts, the kidnapper swings Rita from him using her braid, bashing her into the wall. He lets her loose as she slides down the wall in a daze. Stepping into the room, he shuts the door behind him. "Get on with it."
"You've killed her!" Emily screams trying to get off the mattress and to Rita.
"The little bitch is fine but she won't be." The smaller figure shoves Emily in the middle of the chest pushing her back on the mattress. "Try that again and there will be more than one junkie in this room. You're the one that brought her into this. But ain't that the way you've always been, you selfish self-righteous cow? This is all your fault. You're the one who won't mind her own business." The figure shines a light on a loaded syringe. "I got one dose here. Who gets it? You or... her." The figure takes a step toward Rita.
"No, Don't! You can't do that." Emily pleads
"I can do any fucking thing I want. Haven't you figured that out yet, Ms. High and Mighty? Roll up your sleeve." The figure orders.
Emily hesitates but complies as the figure backs up another step toward Rita. "Look, see I'm doing what you want. There is no need to hurt her." The bigger guy grabs Rita by the scruff of the neck and tosses her in the bathroom closing the door behind her. Then he too closes in on Emily.
Knocking on the door, Johnny waits impatiently; finally his mother opens the door. "Any word?"
"Nothing." Cook says flatly. "Have you heard anything?"
"No. I've got people listening, looking but there's nothing." Johnny replies dispiritedly.
"Nothing so far." Cook insists.
"Where is the judge?"
"In his study. He hasn't come out since the cops left after bugging all the phones. I got a fibbie sitting in my kitchen waiting for the phone to ring. That's all everyone is doing... waiting. Waiting for the next play."
Johnny kicks the wall. "Damn it!"
Cook runs her hand comfortingly over her son's back. "They are good girls and they're together. Em and Rita will take care of each other until we can find them."
"You picked a fine time to start getting optimistic, Ma."
"The alternative is too ugly to think about." Cook admits shaking her head. "He wouldn't give us more than we could bear. The alternative is too much to bear. It would destroy your father and kill Miss Lila. I know the girls are in trouble but we will find them, Johnny." The doorbell rings. Johnny checks the peephole before answering. He takes a package from the messenger and checks the return address. The Fibbie comes from the kitchen to check what was delivered.
"No worries, man." Johnny shrugs off the fibbie. "I was expecting this one." The guy looks as if he is going to protest and then shrugs and goes back to the kitchen. As soon as he is gone, Johnny turns back to his mother. "Let's go talk to the judge."
"What is it, son?"
"It's a video tape Jerry Jacks took of the horseshow. And our next move. We need to see if we can pull a needle from a haystack."
"You think whoever took the girls was at the show?"
"How did they know when they left if they weren't watching?" Johnny asks rhetorically. "Lets see if me or the Judge can ID someone that doesn't belong."
Nikolas strides up the docks to Wyndemere. Entering unannounced he is none the less met by Mrs. Lansbury. He hands over his coat and gloves. Mrs. Lansbury winces at his condition. "Master Nikolas..."
"Not now, Mrs. Lansbury. Where is my uncle?"
"He's in his study on the phone." Mrs. Lansbury tails after Nikolas. "Have you eaten anything?"
"I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat something." Mrs. L insists.
"Not now." Nikolas brushes her concern aside and enters his uncle's study. Stefan is on the phone getting the latest updates on Helena and requesting transcripts of all of her phone conversations as well as the pictures of anyone that has been to see her in the last week. Stefan waves Nikolas to a chair but Nikolas paces the room until Stefan finishes the call.
"Do the police have anything?" Stefan ask Nikolas already fearing the answer.
"Nothing. They are still..." Nik makes little quote motions in the air, "... gathering information."
"Better than going off half cocked. I know that is not what you want to hear."
"No, it's not." Nik snarls clenching his fists.
"But for once, Taggart's uncharacteristic caution works in our favor." Nikolas looks at Stefan like he had been eating chipped paint from the sills of the Wyndemere windows.
"Considering the prejudices of the PCPD, all the Cassadines would be in adjoining cells." Stefan shrugs delicately as he explains himself. "Where is Alexis?"
"Still at the station. She's observing Taggart going over Emily's financial records with Ned Ashton."
Stefan winces. "Since receiving your aunt's telephone call I've been considering the situation. Miss Bowen-Quartermaine, probably has as much paperwork involved in her life as one of us. Taggart will be buried and probably unfamiliar with what he is looking for. His line of expertise seems to be baiting Corinthos and Morgan and even in that he has been remarkably ineffectual."
"Judge Porter's daughter was with Emily." Nik leans up against the wall. His head falls back as he first stares at the ceiling and then closes his eyes. Stefan steps from behind his desk and crosses to his nephew, the man he loves like a son; he cups Nikolas' face silently offering Nik his strength. "That would explain Taggart's caution. It's not just who Emily knows but also who the little girl could be held against...." Nik opens his eyes and meets Stefan's. "I don't know what I'll do if I lose her."
"I pray you never find out." Stefan's other hand comes up to first rest on Nikolas' shoulder and then squeeze it. "I'm waiting on the information about my mother. You have time to shower, change and eat something."
"I couldn't ..." Nik's voice trails off even as Stefan interrupts him.
"You shall." Stefan insists. "Nikolas, this is a test of not only Miss Bowen-Quartermaines' endurance but also your own. Do not fail her by being so tired that you miss the clue that might set her free. Clear your head and fortify yourself for the tests to come."
The flashing strobe under the door brings Rita around. She holds her head which is screaming like a sonovabitch and then runs her tongue over her teeth to make sure they are all still attached. Then there is nothing but darkness on the other side of the bathroom door and the sound of a door being slammed. "Emily..." Rita says softly.
"Give me a second, Rita. Just give me a second, and I'll let you out." Emily hobbles over toward the bathroom but only makes it as far as the kitchen sink and then she retches and retches again until there is nothing left in her stomach. Not that there'd been to start. Tears burn her eyes and she slides down the cabinet to the kitchen floor. She holds her head in her hands and sobs as if her heart's breaking. She'd worked so hard... for nothing.
Rita hears the sobs and knows what ever happened had been awful and it was all her fault. If she hadn't gotten in that fight with Vicki, if she hadn't ditched the guards, if she hadn't pushed about the horseshow, if she had only been able to get away, get help. The light of the full moon weakly luminates the bathroom, dark and less dark. Rita rises from the cold cracked tile of the bathroom floor and stares at the mirror. Absently she takes off the dress shirt she'd worn for the show standing there in her undershirt. She takes a piece of glass from the broken mirror, wrapping her shirt around it. She tests the edge of the shard on her thumb. The blood wells black in the poorly lit room. She watches it detached from the pain. Then stares at her reflection in the remaining pieces of the mirror. Exhaling deeply she slashes and then slashes again. Quoting her stepmother she reminds her reflection. "The Lord helps those who help themselves."