12. Kali

CHAPTER 12

Kali

Noise.

Something easily taken for granted.

Sometimes even irritated by it.

When that sense has been forcibly stripped away from you, the yearning for it becomes insatiable. You crave it. It drowns out the nightmare threatening to put me back in the box. Each time I shut my eyes, the boxed darkness seeps into my veins, and spiders crawl over me, making every breath a struggle. The adjacent room complained the TV was too loud. Instead of telling me to turn it down, they were moved to a room further away. The night nurse encouraged me to blast it as loud as I’d like. And to my credit, I’ve been hooked to a machine to pull the carbon dioxide from my system, which isn’t exactly quiet.

A psychiatrist and a therapist—Dr. Betty—visited me yesterday and prescribed medicine to help me sleep, but I looked at them like they were crazy.

Did they expect me to sleep?

But my restless mind battled my anxious thoughts, and I gave in, taking the pill to quiet my mind. Moments of blankness followed. However, when I awoke this morning, I wished for more of the pills to take away the haunted memories, because they forged themselves front and center with the dawn of the day.

I lift my bandaged fingers up in the air. All ten digits required dressing, and I want to be thankful I survived, but the man who put me down there is still out there. Is he waiting for another opportunity to put me back? Did I escape death, and he’ll make sure next time there will be nowhere for me to escape? How can I live knowing he’s still out there?

The fear is a death sentence in itself.

Everyone knocks before they enter. Even the nurses don’t come in unannounced. So, when a knock comes, I stare at the door.

Dr. Betty enters with a warm smile, pulling up the rolling chair. Her gray hair cascades long and thick at the sides of her face, giving her a youthful appearance. “How’d we sleep last night?” Her voice carries a soothing tone, reminding me of my mom’s, which has a natural calming effect.

“No nightmares, no spiders, so I guess okay.”

“How do you feel this morning?”

“Like there’s a man out there who wants me dead.”

She lays her hand on my arm and gives it a comforting squeeze. We talked last night about who she could call for me, and when I mentioned there wasn’t anyone, she discreetly masked her concern. Yet, I caught a glimpse of sadness in her eyes—much like now. I’ve spent my entire life being pitied, and the shame, as if it’s my fault, never goes away. But I don’t need people’s sympathy. I’m not a broken girl.

Well, I might be now.

I could have given her Pearl’s number, but since finding out I’m two hours away, she’d have to take time off, and she can’t afford that. Besides, I’m not her responsibility. I can’t bring this burden to her front door. I’m on my own.

“The Texas Rangers were called in to help. They’re here and would like to talk to you, but I wanted to come in here first to check if you’re ready.”

I take a deep inhale and blow it out with puffed-out cheeks. Ready? No. There will never be a time I’m ready to relive that nightmare. But I nod because I want them to catch him. There’s not much for me to tell them, and the little I remember will not help find the guy. I never saw his face, his car, nothing.

Moments later, two Rangers walk in with serious expressions, both wearing khaki slacks, white button-up shirts, and ties. They have guns on their hips and the Ranger five-pointed star badge on their chest, and white cowboy hats on top of their heads.

They really look like that .

I’ve heard about them, but I’ve never seen them in person. The short, stalky one, who looks old enough to be close to retirement, comes over and extends his hand. When I lift my bandaged hands up from under the covers, he just nods and drops the gesture. “Ms. Stevens, I’m Major Martinez. This is Ranger Clark. We’re with the Texas Rangers.” Clark tips his hat in a sharp nod as he stands across the room, accessing me from a distance. Martinez sits down in the chair next to the bed, taking out a tiny notepad from his front pocket. Glad it’s small since I have very little to fill it with. “Because you were taken across county lines and found in a rural county, they’ve asked for our assistance in the case.” I nod, relieved they’ve called in the big guns. “Now, let’s find the bastard who did this to you.”

I like this guy already.

“Let’s start with if there was any reason someone would want to hurt you—an ex, stalker, money, enemy?—”

Oh no . His words fall off when I shoot up out of bed, my socked feet hitting the linoleum floor, and I search the small room. Where are they? They helped me into a hospital gown as soon as I got here, so what did they do with my clothes?

“What’s wrong, Ms. Stevens?” the taller guy asks. I already forgot his name.

“Where are my clothes?” My head jerks left and right, searching the room.

“They’re being processed. They might have some clues on them,” he replies.

A tiny whimper escapes the lodged panic in my throat. My stomach bottoms out. Martinez stands aside with furrowed brows.

“We found nothing in the pockets.” He guesses the reason I’m two seconds from a full-blown panic attack.

They didn’t look in the right pocket.

At least I hope it’s still there.

Dr. Betty comes over, puts her hand on my back, trying to diffuse the panic attack. “Kali, breathe.”

“My bra,” I say, finding my voice. “Did they look in my bra?”

The two Rangers exchange discerning glances. “What was in your bra?” one asks.

I collapse onto the bed, my body heavy with defeat. He didn’t want the money because he already had it. How did he know where to look? Tears stream down my face. I can almost hear his mocking laughter when I offered him money.

I’m broken and broke.

“Kali,” Dr. Betty softly interjects, redirecting my focus to her. “What was in your bra?” she repeats the question.

“Four million dollars,” I deadpan.

“What was that?” Martinez asks, and I lift my gaze. Yep. It’s hard for me to believe, too . “What exactly do you mean?”

“I won the lottery last weekend. The winning ticket was in my bra.” My voice lacks any emotion. The excitement drained out of my soul, left back on the curb in Blackburn.

The tall Ranger pushes off the table and leaves the room, the other scoots his chair closer. “Ms. Stevens, who knew about the money?”

“Just Pearl Livingston.” He notes her name on the pad. “But she had nothing to do with this. She’s my best friend,” I plead. I don’t like that he doesn’t say anything. She’s going to hate me. She’ll think I sent the cops to question her.

I glance at what he writes, but his handwriting is terrible.

He flips back a page and lifts his head. “Let’s go back to Friday night. You left the bingo hall and walked home alone. That was about ten?”

I nod.

“Other than it being darker than normal, you didn’t notice anything out of place?” He repeats what I already told him.

I shake my head.

He taps his pen against his pad, studying me for a beat. “Based on your carbon dioxide levels, the doctors estimate you were down there for around four or five hours. Silverwood to Blackburn is a two-hour drive.”

He’s getting to the part I’ve questioned since the doctor told me the same thing. What did he do with me during those five unaccountable hours?

Were they spent digging the grave? Did he take me somewhere else first? He didn’t rape me. Thank God. One of the first things they did when I got here was do a rape kit. I didn’t feel anything down there, but I was still in shock, so I agreed to one. Just in case.

“Whoever did this to you didn’t want you to die quickly. The setup was meticulous. There was an air pump at the end of the box, supplying air.”

My eyes widen as a chill runs down my spine. He purposely kept me alive. Why?

“So, either they intended for you to suffer or just wanted to terrify you for a short while. Because the air supply wasn’t enough to deplete the carbon dioxide, you wouldn’t have lasted forever.”

My gaze flits around the room, my mind struggling to grasp the cruelty. The sick bastard intentionally wanted me to go insane before I died.

Mission almost accomplished.

“Tell me about your life in Blackburn,” he asks.

I delve into my entire history in Blackburn. That includes the mayor and his recent pedophile dreams. Martinez writes everything down and puts a star next to the mayor’s name.

Please. Dig deep on that one .

My voice croaks as I keep talking. I clear my throat but wince at the pain.

Dr. Betty looks at the Ranger. “She needs to take a break.”

He nods in agreement and stands, sliding his notepad into his shirt pocket.

“You’ve been through so much, Kali,” Dr. Betty murmurs, the hum of the hospital’s air conditioning blending with her comforting voice as she sits next to me. That’s putting it lightly. She grabs my water bottle and hands it to me. Drinking hurts the same as talking, but I take a sip to coat the dryness and hand it back to her.

The door swings open with a soft creak, and all eyes shift to the Ranger who left earlier. He flashes a crooked grin as he walks up toward me. “Good news, kid. You’re still a millionaire.”

Without a second thought, I push off the bed, run, and throw myself into his arms. He’s my life raft in this sinking ship. My head tells me to let go of the stranger, but my emotions get the best of me, and I hold on tighter, crying into his chest. “Thank you,” I murmur, my gratitude echoing in the sterile hospital room.

His emotional sigh reverberates through me as his hand pats my back. “You’re welcome, Ms. Stevens. It’s in a lockbox now, safe and sound.”

Oh my god.

My mouth hangs open as I stare at the six o’clock news from my hospital bed in disbelief. It’s about me. A picture of my grave site flashes on the screen, surrounded with yellow tape. I hold my breath, praying they don’t reveal my name. When the next segment comes on without hearing my name, the tension in my shoulders releases. It’ll come out soon enough.

I jump at the sound of a soft knock. When the nurse comes in, her eyes flash from me to the TV. She bites her lip, hesitant about what to do. We stay silent. Is there anything to say?

I swallow back my emotions. “It’s okay. I just didn’t expect to be on the news. Is it time for my vitals again?”

She shakes her head and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s an Officer Turner here to see you?”

How could I say no to the man who saved me?

“Do you mind muting the TV for me?” It sucks a million times over not being able to use my hands.

When she leaves, I overhear him talking to the officer stationed outside my room, and I quickly adjust my flimsy gown to cover everything.

The officer walks in, his dog trotting faithfully by his side.

“Hey,” he says, sounding unsure about being here.

“Hi.” My voice comes out just as awkward.

The only thing I remember about the duo is the dog. He comes over and sniffs me, laying his head on the bed near my hands. Hey there, hero. The bandages make it an awkward rub, but he doesn’t seem to care.

I think I need one of you.

“I hope it was okay to come check on you?”

“Of course. You’re the reason I’m here.”

His eyes widen, and I grimace. That came out wrong.

“I mean the reason I’m alive. Not that you…” I stop talking as my cheeks flush, and I focus back on the dog. The buzzing of anxiety in my chest calms. I let out a deep exhale and relax for the first time today. I gesture toward the TV. “Did you know it’s on the news?”

He lets out an irritated sigh. “Yeah. The news has been calling me all day for a statement or interview.” He sits down on the blue cushioned armchair beside the bed, his hands clasped in his lap. Tall, slim, athletic build, dark-brown hair that looks soft to the touch, and a neatly trimmed beard. Wait, I remember his light-brown eyes now. How intense they were when they stared at me. Like they’re trying to reach into my soul. I feel them right now .

“The nurse said you haven’t had any visitors.”

That’s embarrassing. I don’t want to admit I’m alone in this world. As if it defines the person I am. Unlovable. “I don’t have any family,” I whisper.

Is that why it was me? How much did my kidnapper know about me? Was that the plan all along? Choose someone no one would miss?

Ugh, Kali! Stop with the questions you don’t have answers to.

“I hear you’re breaking free in a couple days.” He winces at his choice of words and drops his head. “Sorry, I usually don’t have a problem thinking before I speak.”

“It’s okay. But that’s what I’m told.”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t assign you police protection, but do you need a ride to your house?”

It didn’t occur to me how embarrassing this sounds until now. “I don’t have one.”

“Kali, are you homeless? I didn’t see it in the report, but if you are, it’s an important detail to tell the Rangers because the suspect might be targeting homeless women. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“No and yes.”

His thick brows furrow, confused with my answer.

“Saturday…” I tilt my head, and it takes me a moment to remember what day it is. The past few days have been a blur. “Or yesterday was supposed to be my last day in Blackburn. I was moving to Austin this weekend.”

“Oh,” he says, surprised. “Do you have a place in Austin?”

“No,” I reply, sliding my bandages against the edge of the blanket. This made sense on Friday. For the first time in my life, I was being spontaneous. “I was going to stay in a hotel until I found an apartment.”

He nods in response but doesn’t say anything for a minute. I can see more questions swirling in his eyes, but without telling him about the money—and that won’t happen—it doesn’t make much sense, anyway.

Riggs barks once, and the man holds his hands up in the air. “Okay. I’m done. I didn’t mean to sound like a detective.”

Riggs settles back, laying his head down.

“You have a new fan.”

“It’s the other way around. You have a great dog. Smart.”

“More like a smart-ass,” he retorts, narrowing his eyes at him.

I shimmy the blankets up higher on my chest. “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but can you tell me your name again?”

“Shit,” he murmurs, running his hand through his hair again, swooshing the loose piece back. It’s definitely soft. “Sorry. I should’ve re-introduced us as we came in. This is Riggs, and I’m Paxton.”

That’s it. I remember him saying it when he found me. “Well, Paxton, thank you. Thank you for finding me.”

His intense expression softens. “Listen, you don’t know me, but…” He stands up and pulls his wallet out of his front pocket, grabbing a white business card. He slides it onto my bedside table and taps it a few times before removing his finger. “If you need anything, call me. I live in Austin, so if there’s anything I can do to help you…” His voice trails off, and I offer a ghost of a smile. He’s done more than enough to help me.

I’m here because of him. Alive.

With a swipe of his hand on his leg, Riggs lifts his head off the bed and moves to sit at attention to the left of Paxton, staring up at him.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Wow. You did that with just a swipe?”

He chuckles. “He’s just trying to impress you. It takes me slapping my leg a few times to get him to listen.”

I know that’s a lie. But it makes me laugh.

He points at his card and says, “Anything.” Without waiting for a response, he strolls out, Riggs glued to his side.

The spot where Riggs’s head was turns cold and is a cruel reminder of how alone I am when I miss the comfort of a dog. I stare at the business card. What am I going to do next? I don’t have a phone, a license, or money. Nothing. I can’t even claim the lottery money until I get a new license. I thought I had the strength to start over. Now, I’m not even sure where to start.