CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Lorraine （Lori） George

C HAPTER F IFTEEN

Lorraine (Lori) George

L ori George was a descendant of the Kalapuya tribe. The Kalapuyans were an Indigenous group whose traditional homelands were in the Elk Creek and Willamette watersheds of Western Oregon. They were hunters and gatherers between the Cascades and coastal regions. The Kalapuyans did not belong to a single homogeneous tribal association, but rather to multiple autonomous divisions speaking three closely related languages. The tribe made use of obsidian, a natural resource from the volcanic rock of the Cascades, turning the rock into spearheads, arrowheads, and other projectile shapes. Today, there were approximately 4,000 Kalapuyan descendants enrolled in the Confederated Tribe of the Grand Ronde Community of Oregon, about an hour southwest of Eugene.

* * *

Lori’s grandfather was more adventurous than his contemporaries. He wanted his family to be integrated into the rest of society and went to work at a local sawmill. It was eventually taken over by the Spangler family and renamed Geiser Creek Lumber and Millwork. Her grandfather was determined that his children and their children would have a good education and stressed the importance of knowledge. He would remind them, “Knowledge is Power.” Lori’s father went on to become a professor of Native American Studies at Portland State University. Lori was enrolled at Lane Community College with an interest in the hospitality business. Her goal was to continue her education and work toward a bachelor’s degree.

Because of her grandfather’s long-standing employment with Geiser Creek and S.E.I., Lori got a part-time job working at one of the Cascade Inns. Her advisor thought it would be beneficial for her student record, and it was conveniently located, just a few miles from the school. She managed to schedule her work and studies without too much conflict.

It was her first week on her own at the Cascade Inn outside Eugene. She had just finished her two-week training program and was anxious to get started. She went to the locker room, changed into her uniform, and punched in. There was a bulletin board with everyone’s assignments.

Lori George

Room trolley—for first floor

Guest towels

Sheets

Cleaning towels and paper towels

Disinfectant spray cleaner

* * *

Lori knew the job wasn’t very glamorous, but this was one of the best ways to learn about hospitality: from the ground floor up.

The laundry room was well-stocked with fresh linens, but as she looked around, she didn’t see any cleaning products. Probably stored somewhere else. The first door she tried had the maintenance supplies for the heavy-duty cleaning. The next one was an electrical closet. She went back to the laundry room and spotted a door in the back. “Huh.” She didn’t recall seeing it there before. She shrugged and walked toward it. When she got to the door, she noticed there was a touch pad combination lock. Odd for cleaning products. Maybe it was where they kept the security monitors? The door was slightly ajar. Odd for something that needs to be locked up. But then again, some products are corrosive. Perhaps someone opened the door so she could get what she needed. She pushed it open wide, never expecting to see what was in front of her.

The sight took several moments to register, long enough for one of the men to grab her arms, spin her around, and band her arms together with the coated rope they used to tie the bundles. One of them stuffed a pair of latex gloves in her mouth; then they covered her head with a cloth. A sheet, perhaps? She was trying not to panic. Breathing was difficult with the gloves in her mouth and the sheet over her head. She knew it was futile to fight them. She inhaled slowly through her nose. Someone picked her up. She thought they put her on one of the service carts. Another sheet. She could tell they were wheeling her somewhere. Then she was in the back of a vehicle. After what she thought might be about twenty minutes, the vehicle stopped. She could hear voices, but not what they were saying. Then she heard a loud engine start. Like a big truck. She heard the sounds of metal. Maybe a lock. Then the sound of a sliding door. Someone picked her up and handed her to someone else. The sound of beeping began. Like the sound when a truck is backing up. The person who was holding her stepped onto something metal. They began to move. The motion felt like an elevator, but then it stopped short. She could smell the familiar scent of fresh-cut lumber through the sheet. It was almost like the mill where her grandfather used to work. The man kept moving. She counted his steps. Maybe ten or twelve feet. He set her down on a metal floor. A truck bed? He reached under the sheet and pulled the gloves out of her mouth. “Do not say a word. Do not scream.” Lori was not about to test those menacing words. Then she heard footsteps retreating. More beeping, and then the sound of a rolling lift gate, and a bolt. About a minute or so later, the driver engaged the truck, and it began to move. She closed her eyes and prayed: for someone to save her, or to be able to escape. But Lori was a bright, realistic young woman. She knew the odds were not in favor of either. At least not for the moment. She fell into a deep sleep, imagining her ancestors watching over her.

Lori woke with a pain in her neck. She tried to get into a more comfortable position when the truck came to a stop. Several minutes later, she heard men’s voices again. And again, she could not make out what they were saying. She heard the sound of the lift gate rolling open. The same man who’d put her into the truck picked her up again. She could tell by his size and his smell. For a moment, she was glad to have a sheet over her head.

He carried her over his shoulder like a firefighter. She could hear doors opening and closing. He finally set her down on something that felt like a wooden chair. She felt his face come closer. “Okay, listen here, little lady. I am going to loosen the ropes around your hands and feet. It’ll take you a little time to wiggle out of them. You can take the thing off your head when your hands are free. I’ll be gone by then. But I warn you. Don’t try anything funny if you want to live to see another sunrise. Now nod your head if you understand.”

Lori nodded slowly. The man tugged on the knots. Lori could feel the tension release around her wrists. “You’re gonna have to work on them ankles yourself.” Within moments, the man left the room. She could hear several locks shutting her in.

Growing up, she and her grandfather used to go camping and fishing. He taught her many types of knots. She felt around with her fingers to see if she could recognize this one. It was a classic constrictor knot, the type that gets tighter when you pull, but the man had loosened it. She went slowly, methodically, until she was able to disentangle herself. She pulled the sheet off her head. She was in a totally enclosed room. The walls looked like they were made of some kind of plastic. Something you could vacuum or wipe down easily. She guessed the space was the size of a two-car garage. It had a long metal table and the chair she was sitting on. It reminded her of the interrogation rooms on Law & Order . Then it hit her. It looked like the secret room she’d stumbled upon, except without the men in white and the white bricks they were feeding into some kind of slicing machine. She hadn’t had time to absorb her surroundings before she was whisked away. The only other thing she spotted was a door with a combination digital lock.

Lori tried to figure out how long it took to get to wherever she was, but she had dozed off. She didn’t know if it was day or night. And worst of all, she didn’t know if someone was going to kill her. She shuddered when she heard the click of the lock on the door. A man appeared wearing a ski mask. He looked like an executioner. Lori was horrified. She closed her eyes and started to pray.

The man spoke. “You must tell me who you are working for.”

Lori stuttered. “I . . . I work for Cascade Inns.”

“That’s what your uniform might say, but who else are you working for?”

“No . . . no one.”

“Don’t lie, little lady. We want to know who you’re working for and what you were looking for.”

Lori shook her head. “Honestly. I work for Cascade Inns. I was looking for cleaning products.”

“How did you find the door?”

“The door?” she asked.

“Don’t play cute. The door. D-O-O-R. Door.”

“It was open.”

“I doubt that.”

“How else would I have gotten in?”

“That’s what we want to know.”

“I swear, it was slightly open.”

“Well, missy, that’s just not possible.”

Lori strained her brain, trying to remember every little detail. Maybe then he’d believe her. “It looked like another door panel was slid open. Like a closet door. Then there was the door with the lock, but it was open. Open a few inches.”

“And why did you go inside?”

“I told you. I was looking for cleaning products.” She fished in her pocket and pulled out her assignment sheet. It was as crumpled as she was. She held it out.

He snatched it from her hand. “Lori George. So that’s the name you’re using.”

“That is my name. Lorraine George. People call me Lori.”

“How long you been working at the Cascade?”

“This was my first week. I was in training for two weeks.” Her voice was even. She knew she had to convince this man that she wasn’t anything other than a college student, working part-time at an inn so she could put it on her résumé when she finished school.

“You always break into locked doors?” he asked.

“It wasn’t locked, I swear!”

“But it had a lock on it, didn’t it?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you thought it was okay to just mosey into the room?”

“Please, mister. Please believe me. I figured they kept it locked because of the caustic cleaning solutions, and that somebody opened it so we could get what we needed for our shift.”

The man wasn’t convinced, although it was a rather convincing story. But if she was working for a competitor, then she was a pro at her con game. “You sit tight. Don’t go anywhere.” He grunted a snarky laugh and left the room. The sound of the lock engaging was deafening. Or so it seemed.

Several minutes later, another man entered the room. This one was wearing a screaming skeleton mask. He grilled her just as the previous man had. As menacing as he looked, she still had nothing more to tell him and repeated her story. He got up, left, and locked the door. She feared what was going to happen next.