Finding Claire, page 1
Finding Claire
Pamela Humphrey
Copyright ©2016 Pamela Humphrey
All Rights Reserved
Phrey Press
www.phreypress.com
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Letter
Letter
Letter
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Letter
Letter
Letter
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Letter
Letter
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Letter
Chapter 11
Letter
Chapter 12
Letter
Letter
Letter
Chapter 13
Letter
Chapter 14
Letter
Letter
Chapter 15
Letter
Letter
Chapter 16
Letter
Chapter 17
Letter
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Letter
Letter
Chapter 21
Letter
Letter
Letter
Letter
Chapter 22
Letter
Letter
Chapter 23
Letter
Chapter 24
Letter
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Also by Pamela Humphrey
Excerpt from Finding Kate
About the Author
Chapter 1
January 8 – 9:27pm
The night I woke up in the back of a van with my hands bound, my whole world changed. It was a Friday.
I opened my eyes and fought to remember how I’d ended up in a dark, moving vehicle. As if rising from the depths of a deep lake, I struggled, desperate for a glimpse of the familiar. Rope burned my wrists. I didn’t have the presence of mind or the courage to formulate an escape. Panic rendered me useless as someone drove me to the middle of nowhere.
The kidnappers’ most helpful accomplice, my own fear, held me prisoner. The worst part of it all, my mind hid memories from me. I didn’t even know my own name.
A greasy, foul-smelling man marched me into a dark house. Images of how I’d be killed flashed through my mind when he shoved me into a putrid closet. Another man did his bidding and talked incessantly. More than a day, being fed nothing but bologna sandwiches, I wallowed in that tiny space.
Chapter 2
January 10 – 12:48am
I stumbled through the brush, ever conscious of the darkness pressing in on me. The flashlight did little to hold it off. With my hands tied together, I slugged through the night, fighting to stay on my feet.
The circle of light jostled as I moved. I tripped on fallen limbs as noises spurred me on faster. I tumbled, and my knees connected with a large rock, half-buried in the ground. My hands in front of me, I caught my fall. But my palm oozed blood where something sharp tore through my flesh.
Exhausted, I pulled cold, wet air into my lungs and struggled to my feet. The heavy mist plastered my clothes to my skin. But the wet ground absorbed the pounding of my footsteps, keeping the sound from echoing through the night.
Progress was impossible to measure in the grey haze. Everything my light touched looked the same. I prayed I wouldn’t circle back to the house I’d left.
Hours passed as I trudged through the rugged landscape.
I pushed between juniper bushes, wincing as the evergreen branches scratched at my cheeks. As I cleared the trees, breath caught in my throat.
A house.
I approached it slowly, making sure it wasn’t the same one I’d just left.
I picked my steps through the underbrush, then hurried up the three porch steps. I knocked, over and over, louder and louder. All my pleading accomplished nothing. I walked around the outside hoping for a glimmer of light in a window. But silence and darkness encased the house.
Tears stung my scratches as I continued my search for help.
Drips ran down my hand, leaving a trail of blood as I stumbled through the trees. The clouds above still clung to their rain. The smell of moist earth permeated the air. I glanced up and wished for a just a glimpse of the moon or stars. The darkness taunted me, mocking the fact that I was alone.
I clung to the flashlight as I zigzagged around a prickly pear cactus. The ones I didn’t see left their marks on my legs. Tears filled my eyes, blurring my surroundings. I yelped as I snagged a barbed wire fence. The echo cackled as it scurried through the trees.
Leaves rustled nearby. I froze. The sense of something closing in tightened in my chest.
Eeeeeeeeeeee.
The screech of the owl sent terror pulsing through me. I pulled away from the wires, and my clothes tore. The whimper of an animal faded into the distance. I tried to forget that the blood and shreds would be easily visible in the daylight. I stared at the fence, desperately pleading for a way through. I tamped down the bottom wires with my foot and tried ducking under the other wires, but it didn’t work. Finally, I dropped face first to the ground and slithered under the bottom wire. I swallowed my cry as the barbs scraped my back.
I pushed forward, my heart wanting to run, my feet hindered by limbs and rocks. I glanced behind me into the darkness, sure the men were in pursuit, following the sound of my pain.
Shivering, I stopped to catch my breath. Wisps of white appeared in front of me each time I released my hot breath into the night.
Something near me hit the ground. I whipped around, bumping the switch on the flashlight. I was plunged into a vat of ink.
A snapping sound carried through the air. I looked back expecting lights bouncing through the trees. Feeling around the flashlight, I found the switch. When the light clicked on, the shadows returned, my welcome companions.
The underbrush slowed my progress as I hiked away from captivity. Somewhere in the night safety called to me, like Heathcliff on the moors. I’m hearing things.
I walked a bit farther and stopped. I heard it again. Laughter. I turned my head and waited for the sound to return. Pushed down by the damp air, it couldn’t have carried far. I tightened my grip on the flashlight and turned it off. Suffocated by the darkness, I scanned around me for light, any glimmer.
The wind blew, and for a moment, light appeared far off somewhere ahead. I hit the switch and surveyed to see what shielded the glow I’d seen. More juniper bushes. Their scent, pleasant only in small doses, clung to my clothes and hair like cheap cologne on an urban cowboy.
I shoved my way through the bushes, unsure of what lay on the other side, the light beckoning me forward. A house. My next step sent me skidding down. I bounced down the rocky incline on my hip, my tied hands useless to stop me. When I hit the bottom, my hip burned, and my head ached.
I crawled to a nearby boulder and used it to help me up. My legs were gelatin. When I stood, blood trickled down my face.
I limped toward the house, anticipating freedom from the rope and safety from the kidnappers. The sounds from before, clearer now, raucous laughter and men’s voices, rang out from the haven in front of me. I hurried my pace.
Closer, I smelled food. My mouth salivated.
A crunching sound beneath my foot stopped me cold.
I pointed the flashlight down. Beer cans carpeted the ground.
I darted, still limping, toward the trees before my legs gave out. The hope of safety torn away left a gaping hole in my chest. The light and sounds, so welcoming at first, mocked my fear. The front door opened, illuminating me. Not yet to the trees, I kept moving but switched off the flashlight.
A man stepped out the door. His pee splashed on the leaves, and I prayed he wouldn’t see me.
As I neared bushes, he shrieked, but I didn’t stop until I was hidden.
“What’s wrong, Gil?” A man called from inside the house. The s sliding into the word beside it.
“I saw someone.”
Cackles and snorts erupted from inside. “He saw Bigfoot.”
“Shut up! I know I saw someone. A woman, I think.”
“Gil’s little wife is sneaking out to check up on him.”
Their conversation devolved into yelling, and then someone threw a punch. What wasn’t safe before became outright dangerous. I pressed on, disappointment pouring out of my eyes. Blood, clothing, and now an eyewitness. So much for leave no trace. If I didn’t find help before the sun crested the horizon, I’d be eating a bologna and mayo sandwich for breakfast again. My stomach wretched at the thought.
My hair snagged on a mangled branch, and I ducked to keep my eyes from being punctured. The circle of light just ahead of me, fear nipped at my heels. I had to keep moving. Beyond the beam, a shroud of darkness made it impossible to see if I’d walked in cir
Desperation disguised as hope propelled me forward, and I trusted that the lack of familiar sights meant I’d pushed farther away from the closet.
I skirted around yet another stand of juniper bushes. My sobs escaped into the night before I could catch them. The whoosh of fluttering birds, disrupted from their roosting, echoed around me.
A solid rock wall blocked my path, the side of a hill sheared off, leaving the white rocky insides exposed. It was too steep to climb. I stumbled to a large rock and crumpled into a heap. Blood dripped from my gashes and scratches, dotting the limestone, leaving yet another marker along my trail.
I pointed the flashlight to the right. The stone continued farther than the light could reach. The other direction, the rock sloped into weeds and bushes several yards away.
Mustering the last remnants of strength from my tired muscles, I pushed myself off the rock and trudged to the left. I inched my way up a small incline. Exhausted, I sprawled on the damp ground. Cold and sore, I ached to be inside somewhere, to be safe and protected.
The chill of the wet earth permeated the skin on my cheek. My eyelids begged to close, the temptation to sleep growing stronger every second I spent on the ground. The sky opened up and thundering raindrops pounded me. The rain urged me to continue, promising to wash away my tracks.
I lifted my head. A cabin. Just a few paces ahead, a cabin sat nestled in the trees. Firelight flickered in the windows. Adrenaline coursed through me. I struggled to my feet.
The lure of safety pulled me forward, my footsteps nearly silent on the soggy ground. A cat jumped onto the windowsill. My heart raced. I dragged my tired body to the door.
April 21, 1987
My Sweet Little Claire,
Your daddy suggested I write to you. He thought it might help me.
This afternoon, he found me still in my pajamas, crying into my pillow. He slipped into the nursery without turning on the overhead light or opening the curtains. And after picking up the tissue wads scattered around the bed, he perched on the edge and rubbed my back.
It tortured him to see me so upset, but he understood. He pleaded in his soft, soothing voice for me to get up. (But that voice, that tender, I’ll-take-care-of-you voice always makes me cry.) I managed to shift to a sitting position and lean against him to cry. He wrapped his arms around me and rocked gently, trying to say what he could to give me comfort. His shaking shoulders reminded me of how much he misses you, too.
He’d left work early and bought a birthday cake, a beautiful round cake with lots of layers. On the top was a 3. No names. No message. Just the number three. Circling the top and bottom edges of the cake were tiny blue flowers made of icing.
That cake remained in the middle of the table all day without either of us cutting it. I watched the back door and prayed that you would push it open, arms spread wide, happy to see us.
Do you still have your floppy rabbit? Do you still snuggle him to go to sleep? Your daddy still talks about the day he gave you that rabbit.
There is a story you need to know, but I hope you’re home before you’re old enough to read it. I wrote it out in the weeks just after you left so no matter when you returned, it would be ready.
Wherever you are, I hope you know your daddy and I both love you. We will never stop looking for you.
Love & Birthday Wishes,
Mommy & Daddy
April 21, 1988
My Dear Claire,
The sun didn’t show up this morning. Raindrops pattered out a sad song on the porch.
How can you be four already?
Your daddy didn’t go to work today. He suggested we shop for you. We spent hours at the toy store, but I didn’t know if you liked dolls or kittens or blocks or hair bows. How can a mommy not know what her baby girl likes?
We bought you a cake. It was a big yellow flower. I cried while we sang happy birthday.
What we wouldn’t give to see your big brown eyes again.
I wish you were never taken from me, from us.
Love always,
Mommy & Daddy
April 21, 1989
Happy Birthday, Claire,
I marked another X on the calendar. Like every other morning, I did it before breakfast. I’d rather mark days without food than days without you.
Your daddy suggested I write to you. He thought giving you updates of our life might hurry the time, draw you back somehow, and help me, too.
For this birthday, I had a special cake made for you. It looked like a princess with a frilly blue gown.
I miss you, princess.
Have you ever heard a story where the princess is snatched away and knights search and try to rescue her? You were the little princess, and you were taken from us by a beast. (You love him, not knowing what he’s capable of. But I can’t be anything other than honest with you. He’s a beast.)
Where is he hiding you?
Your daddy, the brave knight, searched and searched. He promised not to give up until his last breath.
I moved into Grandma Betty’s house. Daddy and I fixed up a bedroom for you. No matter when you come back, there will be a room for you here.
Your daddy and I send big Texas wishes for the happiest of birthdays. We miss you.
Love forever,
Mommy & Daddy
Chapter 3
Alex
January 10 – 2:54am
Thud. Thud.
Alex winced as Bureau leaped onto his diaphragm and meowed in his face.
“What do you want?” He moved the cat to the floor and shifted in the chair.
Bang, bang, bang.
Alex jumped up. His book landed in a wad of gnarled pages. “Who’s there?” he called as he stumbled to the door. His foot caught the edge of the quilt, and it dragged behind him. He opened the door just enough to see her.
Muddy brown eyes pleaded for help. Blood streaked her forehead and clothes. She was soaking wet. Several strands of her brown curls lay matted against her tear-stained cheeks. What the hell? She shivered as raindrops pelted her. Her lips parted, but he didn’t wait for her to speak. She needed help, his help.
He yanked open the door. “Who tied you up?” He reached to pull her inside, and she shrank back, her eyes wide with fear. He put his hands up and stepped back from the door. “I won’t touch you. Come on in.” His mind raced trying to figure out what kind of craziness had showed up at his door. He scanned the darkness behind her. Are you being set up? This can’t be real. One glance at the woman in front of him left no doubt she was in real trouble.
She took one step inside and warily looked around the dimly lit room, her chest heaving.
“What happened to you?” He used a soft voice, trying to calm her and get answers.
She glanced toward the kitchen, then to the bedroom and office.
What’s she looking for? “I’m the only one here. Just me and the cat.”
Her gaze finally settled on him. “Help me, please.”
Without question, he planned to help her. “Of course. I’ll get you to a hospital. What’s your name?” What happened to her? How long has she been outside?
