Race Against Time. Christy Barritt

“I asked my cousin to pick him up for you.”

       Madison’s mind raced. “Kayla?” Kayla was one of Lincoln’s preschool teachers and also went to church with them. The two had recently struck up a friendship, but it was still new, not the kind of friendship where you asked for favors yet.

       “I know you two know each other, so I figured you’d trust her. I do.”

       Madison did trust Kayla and so did Lincoln. That was the important thing. She didn’t want her son to be freaked out by everything that had happened. “How’d you know someone needed to pick him up?”

       “I’m a detective. I’m paid to be observant.”

       “He can’t go to our home. Or see me like this. I should call her…” Her thoughts crashed into one another. She again started to reach for the phone, but Brody eased her back toward the bed.

       “Don’t worry. I asked her to take him to the park and to get some ice cream. He can stay with her as long as needed. You’ll probably be discharged today. You can both stay with her if you need to. I know she’d be more than happy to help out with Lincoln. Don’t tell her I told you, but I’m pretty sure he’s her favorite student. She talks about him all the time. Those kids are her life.”

       Some of the tension left Madison’s shoulders. Kayla’s bubbly personality connected with the preschoolers in her class, and since she was single and had no children of her own, her students did seem to be her life. “Wow. You thought of everything. Thank you.”

       He shrugged. “I just tried to put myself in your shoes.”

       “I appreciate it.”

       He glanced toward the door before looking back at her, a professional uptightness replacing his earlier sympathy. “Listen, I know the doctor hasn’t freed you to talk with me, but do you feel up to going over what happened?”

       She pushed herself up, trying to ignore her aching body as she gathered her wits. Did she really want to relive what had happened? “I just want to forget.”

       “Forgetting won’t get this man behind bars.”

       She touched the tender area around her neck, remembered the feeling of the rope there. Was it even possible to forget? Probably not. She was going to have to face this head-on if she ever hoped to move past it. Her hands trembled as she placed them in her lap.

       She glanced at the detective and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”

      THREE

      Madison’s fingers twisted the white blanket covering her. Her nails dug into the threads with enough force that the fabric separated and her fingertips scraped her legs. She twisted the blanket over and over as she tried to get a handle on her thoughts.

       The detective stood at her bedside, his green eyes, framed with thick lashes, looking at her intently. Each muscle in his body looked rigid as he stood poised to take notes on what she told him. If not for the flash of compassion she saw in the depths of his gaze every once in a while, she might feel intimidated.

       She had to get this over with. Share her story, do her part, then pick up her son and try to resume normal life.

       She’d learned how to make a new “normal” after her husband had died. She knew she could do it again. She had to. With Lincoln, she didn’t have much choice. Sitting around and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t an option if she wanted her son to have a happy childhood.

       “Ma’am?” The detective’s voice sounded soft but urgent.

       Her gaze met the detective’s again. She licked her lips and nodded, forcing herself to relax her hand against the blanket. “Sorry. I don’t know where to start.”

       “Not to sound like I’m speaking in clichés, but just start at the beginning.”

       “The beginning.” She sucked in a deep breath and noted that even her lungs ached for some reason. “I guess it all started when I walked in from dropping my son off at preschool. As soon as I stepped inside my house I heard something ticking.”

       He raised an eyebrow. “Like a bomb?”

       She shook her head and immediately regretted it as the room began spinning again. She closed her eyes until regaining her equilibrium. “It was one of those little plastic timers people use in the kitchen. Not the digital kind…the old-fashioned kind. I thought my son had left it on. I found the timer in the bathroom, turned it off and tossed it in a drawer. After my shower, I heard it ticking again. When I went into the bathroom to turn it off, I spotted a man waiting for me.” She pulled in a shaky breath, but the air didn’t fill her lungs. She sucked in more breaths as fear threatened to overtake her.

       “You okay?”

       The image of the man hiding in her shower flashed into her mind and her body began trembling uncontrollably. Trying to stop the tremors was useless, so she pushed forward, knowing she had no other choice. “He put a knife to my throat. Before I could even react, he injected something into my arm. I got drowsy right away.” She rubbed her arm, her fingers still shaking. She could still feel the sting of the needle and the burn of the injection.

       Detective Philips placed his hand over hers, bringing her back to reality. The jolt of electricity she felt at his touch shocked her, and she drew back.

       His hand moved to the bed railing. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can get the doctor in here.”

       “I’m fine. It…it just seems surreal.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “He told me to go into my office. I did. At my desk, he dictated a note to me. Said he’d kill me and my son if I didn’t write it. So I did.”

       “Did he recite the note as if he’d rehearsed it? Or did he wing it?”

       She closed her eyes, everything still so vivid. “He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and read it to me. He was very precise on what I should say. I couldn’t miss a word.”

       “What happened next?”

       “As soon as I signed my name to the note, he dragged me into my bedroom, reached under my bed and pulled out a rope. He must have planted the noose there when I was out.” She shuddered at the thought of someone watching her house, knowing her routine and using it to plan his crime.

       “You’re doing great, Madison.”

       His encouragement gave her the strength to keep going when she’d like nothing more than to stop. The next few minutes had been horrific. She’d been certain her life would end. “He made me tie the rope to the fan. He already had it looped up. Everything was planned and ready…” Her voiced cracked.

       “Do you need to take a break?”

       “No. I just want to finish.” Her throat suddenly felt dry. The emotions from the event rushed back to her, but she fought them. “I realized he was going to kill me,” she croaked out. “Whatever he injected into me made me feel like with each movement I made I was swimming through gelatin. I kept thinking of Lincoln.” Her voice caught and she grabbed a tissue to dab her eyes.

       “He seems like a great boy.”

       She nodded. “Yes, he is. I knew I had to fight this man, that once I had that rope around my neck my chances of surviving would diminish. I elbowed the man in the nose. He threw me into my dresser. I hit my head and everything really started to spin.”

       “It was obvious you put up a good fight. You probably didn’t stand a chance since he drugged you.”

       “What did he give me?” she asked.

       “We’re still doing a tox screen now. We’ll know soon.”

       She sucked in a breath, wanting to block out the memories, but knowing she couldn’t. The sound of the man’s voice, the feel of his gloved hands grabbing her wrists, the image of his glistening knife all flashed back.