You'll Meet Things That Scare You

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance
You'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.
There are some, down the road between hither and yon,
That can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

 

Jim eagerly bounded up the stairs to Trixie’s second-floor apartment, occasionally taking the steps two at a time. He arrived at her door prepared to knock but discovered the door pushed slightly ajar.

He frowned and hesitated for just a moment before he pushed the door open, calling out as he did so, “Hey Trixie, are you--”

His eyes widened as the scene unfolded in front of him. Trixie was sitting on her sofa, wearing a short, white terry-cloth robe, duct tape over her mouth and her hands bound with more of the same gray tape. He saw her blue eyes darting frantically and purposefully moved towards her. Whatever his intent, it came to nothing as Jim was immediately sidelined by a stunning blow to the head.

Trixie was helpless to intervene as the two assailants shut and locked the door before they began the process to tie Jim up.

The two men were rough, harsher with Jim than they had been with Trixie. After finishing the job, the older man gave a satisfied grunt, and kicked Jim again. “Okay, we got to get outta here.”

 

 

Regan whistled as he worked methodically in the stable that cold afternoon. The snow had stopped, and he knew the kids would be disappointed. He moved through the Wheeler stables with a familiarity that only came from years of working in the same place with the same horses. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Yep, I’m right on schedule. They should be here any minute. He couldn’t help grinning; he knew exactly what Jim was up to, with the request to have Jupiter and Lady ready for a ride. Maybe all that spy-stuff and espionage at Syracuse was worth it. He continued to whistle before realizing he had already started whistling Christmas Carols.

Maybe they’ll be ready to get married by Christmas! Trixie probably won’t get all wedding crazy like Honey and her mother did, even if the food was something else. Mart and Di’s wedding at Christmas was great.

Regan continued to work steadily, wondering when the official announcement would be forthcoming.

 

 

Dan was driving back to Sleepyside with Liz. He considered it quite a coup to have accompanied the lovely and flirty Elizabeth Wilson into the city.

“So, what do you think? Do you really plan to live in the city?” he asked, smiling across at her as he drove.

“Oh, yes! I loved that second apartment. Sleepyside is nice, but I really want to experience life in the city.”

“It’s not all glamour, like you see on TV.”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean if you think New York is Sex in the City, that’s not what it’s really like.”

She was miffed at his statement, “I wasn’t born under a cabbage you know! Just because I was born and raised in a small town, you think I’m some kind of Thelma!”

“Thelma? Who in the hell is Thelma?”

“You know, Thelma Lou, Barney’s girlfriend!” She sniffed at him in disdain, clearly offended.

“What do you have against Thelma?” Dan asked with an impish grin.

Liz’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

Dan shrugged. “I like Thelma, and I like Helen too. They were a couple of hotties if you ask me. Barney and Andy were two lucky guys.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Liz rolled her eyes.

“No, the city is a great place to live and once my task force is over, I’ll be back there because I hate commuting. But give me the cabin in the middle of the game preserve and a woman like Thelma or Helen any day.”

“Whatever you say, Barney.” She smiled as she looked out the window.

“Barney, my aaa... butt.” Dan quickly corrected his language, remembering Liz wasn’t in law enforcement and not used to the language the guys could dish out in the precinct. “Listen carefully. If you want to compare me to someone from Mayberry, then I’m Andy!”

“Oh? Well, if you’re Andy, then who am I?”

“You’re Ellie Walker.”

“Hmmm, I see.” Liz turned to look out the window so she could smile without Dan seeing her. She very much liked the idea of being Ellie to Dan’s Andy.

 

 

Regan frowned as he glanced at the clock on the wall. Jim was running a few minutes late. Must have had to wait on Trixie, he mused as he continued to work up a sweat despite the cold weather. The phone rang and distracted him from further thoughts.

“Regan, its Maypenny. Do you have any idea who drives a dark green sedan around here?”

“No, it’s not one of ours. Why? Is there a problem?”

“Got a funny feeling about something,” Mr. Maypenny admitted reluctantly. He despised talking on the phone. “Keep your eyes out, would you? There’s been a dark green sedan drive by one time too many not to belong to anyone on Glen Road. That Riker boy, did he drive a car like that down for the holiday?”

Regan frowned, “No, he came down on the train. Ben’s using the Honda that Matthew likes Tom to keep at the station. You know Tom and Celia left this morning for a long weekend. Do you think we should keep a close eye on the trailer?”

“Probably be a good idea. Could be someone’s getting ideas, heard they would be gone.”

“Tommy is staying with Tim and Cissy. We’ll keep an eye on things. Keep me posted.”

As was normal, they disconnected without good-byes. Neither man was long on words but they communicated with each other perfectly. Regan had to much respect for Mr. Maypenny to discount his feeling. He sighed; and looking one more time at the clock, shook his head. “That girl is going to make that boy late for the rest of his life!” he muttered as he checked on the two horses he had saddled.

 

 

A dark green sedan had long since left the parking lot of Trixie’s apartment when Dan’s brown and gray Jeep turned in. “I guess you need to change clothes, huh?” Dan asked Liz. “You’ve probably had those clothes on for a record amount of time.”

Liz looked down at her casual beige silk slacks and leather boots. “Well, what time did you want me to be ready tonight?” she asked.

“The movie starts at 7:20. Do you want to eat before or after?” Dan answered.

“Are you springing for popcorn?” she demanded.

“Sure, I think I can manage popcorn, if we share.” Pulling into a parking space, Dan turned the jeep off and hopped out. He took three steps before he realized Liz wouldn’t move until he opened her door. Walking around, he opened her door and was rewarded with one of her brilliant smiles.

“Thank you, Daniel. I can share popcorn, but I’m not sharing my M&Ms, is that clear? Oh, and I want my own coke as well.”

“So you want popcorn, candy and a coke?” he said incredulously. Most of the girls he dated ate about half a dozen kernels of his popcorn and downed a bottle of water.

“Well, yes. Is that going to be a problem? We can go Dutch if you like,” she offered.

Dan gritted his teeth. Oh wouldn’t Ben Riker like that! “I think I can manage all of that,” he said stiffly. “Does that mean you want to eat afterwards?”

“Yes, please.” She answered graciously, as they entered Trixie’s apartment building.

“Then I’ll pick you up about seven. Do you have a key to Trixie’s apartment?” he inquired.

“Yes, she gave me one to use this weekend. I’m sure she’s left for her date with Jim.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you later, Lizard.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek as she pushed the door open.

“See ya, Daniel,” she answered, wrinkling her nose at his latest nickname.

Liz looked carefully around the apartment. If Trixie were there, she was being very quiet. “Hey Trix! Are you still here?” she called out as she walked back towards the bedroom. She looked around and noticed Trixie’s boots lying on the floor by the bed. The thick, holiday sweater, blue jeans and wool socks were folded neatly, as if waiting for their owner to finish getting ready. Liz frowned and looked in the tiny bathroom as if to confirm Trixie wasn’t still around, hiding somewhere. That’s strange. I wonder what she wore on her date? Maybe she decided not to change. Dropping her purse on Trixie’s bed, she plopped down next to it. Wonder what I should wear tonight?

 

 

“She awake yet?” asked a vaguely familiar voice.

Why is it so cold? Jim wondered as he strained to listen to a mumbling sound. He couldn’t seem to open his eyes and it was a struggle to stay awake.

Jim hadn’t been afforded an opportunity to notice the two assailants waiting to ambush him in Trixie’s small apartment. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had; their features were indistinguishable thanks to a standard pair of synthetic stockings.

His head was fuzzy and he felt cold, but he heard the voice -- the voice that seemed familiar to him. He shook his head as if to clear his mind, and tried to get his eyes open.

“Let’s get the bitch moved and you better get on outta here. Depends on how long the boy decides to nap on me, it won’t take long to have my bit of fun. I might have hit him a little too hard on the head. You did a better job with the girl, it was just enough to stun her.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered open. The men weren’t looking at him. He blinked several times before watching them under half shut eyelids. Their appearances were menacing, especially that of the older, larger man. Two thugs, he thought as he watched them move. He frowned; they both seemed familiar. He struggled as he battled back the wave of dizziness that kept threatening to put him back under.

One assailant was an older man, who moved and walked with a stoop-shouldered but confident lope and was obviously in charge of the situation. A clearly younger male wore a knit cap that hid his hair completely. He deferred to the lead of his partner, frequently leaning against the wall, his arms crossed while the fingers of one hand drummed nervously against his arms. After a hurried, whispered discussion, the two men roughly deposited Trixie on an old sofa. Jim watched surreptitiously, noticing Trixie was awake and observing everything. Finally, he noticed the younger assailant nod his head and glance around the room as he left, shutting the door behind him. Jim’s eyes blinked several times and he observed his surroundings for much longer than he should have before it dawned on him. This is our old clubhouse! Why on earth would anyone bring us to the old Bob-White clubhouse?

“’Bout time you came round. I’ll bet you’ve really been missin’ me these past few years, huh boy?” Jim’s captor sneered as he yanked the duct tape off Jim’s mouth and shook his shoulders.

Jim couldn’t suppress a groan. But he shook his head as his eyes slowly scanned the room and then focused on Trixie. She was huddled on the old sofa and he could see her from his position on the floor. The voice had bothered him for good reason. He now knew exactly who he was dealing with. Looking concernedly at Trixie, Jim took a deep breath, before he spoke to her. “Are you okay?”

Trixie nodded and then shuddered involuntarily as the creep moved forward to tower over Jim and speak.

Jim’s green eyes blazed with contempt as he stared at the stoop-shouldered villain. “You despicable…disgusting…”

The man’s cruel laugh caused the hair on Jim’s arms to stand up as he interrupted before Jim could continue further. “She don’t know,” he crowed scornfully. “Your ace girlfriend detective don’t have a clue!” Eugene Jones pulled the stocking off his head, shaking his graying hair as he grinned lecherously at Trixie.

Jim could clearly see the shock in her eyes, and berated himself for not telling her that Jonesy was out of prison.

“What’s the matter, Jimmy? The cat got your tongue?” Jonesy taunted. “Here I was expecting a joyful reunion with my stepson!”

Jim strained at the duct tape that bound his arms. He spat the words out at Jonesy, “If you lay one finger on her…” he threatened.

“You’ll what, boy? Kill me?” Jonesy’s cruel and triumphant laugh made Jim’s skin crawl. “You seem to be forgetting something. Right now there ain’t one damn thing you can do about it.” Jonesy reached out and fingered Trixie’s curls, watching Jim’s reaction. “I can touch her all I want, boy. What do you plan to do to stop me?” Wrapping a curl around his fingers he yanked hard, pulling her hair in a movement that brightened Trixie’s eyes with unshed tears.

“If you touch her again, I swear somehow, someway you will live to regret it!” Jim was furious. His hands were purple with strain as he tried vainly to free them from the duct tape.

Jonesy jeered, “Oh, yeah, boy what you gonna do? Run away? You was always pretty good at that. But I’ll do whatever I damn well please and you can’t do a thing about it. Don’t worry though, boy, I’m gonna let you watch.”

Jonesy’s next move was to grab a hard, wooden, chair from the table and shove it across from Trixie. Glaring at Jim, he demanded, “Sit!”

Jim didn’t move.

“I said SIT!”

Jim glared defiantly back and remained motionless on the floor.

Jonesy said nothing. He moved over in front of Jim and slowly removed his belt. “This is your last chance Frayne; sit –your- ass- in- the- chair.”

“Go to hell!” Jim retorted furiously.

Jonesy shrugged. He had no intention of using the belt on Jim; he turned and moved over to where Trixie sat hunched up on the sofa.

Realizing Jonesy’s true intent, Jim immediately scrambled towards the chair, “Wait!” he cried. “I’ll move, just give me a second!”

“You had your chance.”

Jim flinched as Jonesy’s hand made contact with Trixie’s face with a loud crack.

He felt sick as he watched Jonesy’s arm raise, the belt in his hand.

 

 

Regan was pacing now. Something was wrong. Between Maypenny’s phone call and Jim not showing up, Regan couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. He had already called the cabin and Maypenny hadn’t answered. He’s probably out patrolling right now. He called the school and confirmed Jim had left the school in plenty of time to have picked up Trixie and arrived at the stables. He called Jim’s cell phone and received no answer. Finally he texted Dan’s cell phone with his number and the words call me.

Dan looked down and frowned. His Uncle rarely texted him. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had needed to do that. Dan called him immediately.

“Listen, Dan. Jim and Trixie were supposed to be here at the stables for a ride almost an hour ago. I haven’t seen or heard from either one of them.” Regan started explaining.

“Did you call Jim’s cell?”

“Of course. No answer. Dan, Jim would never ignore my call or fail to let me know if something had changed.” Regan declared. “Then Maypenny called and is worried about some green sedan. All I can tell you is that something is wrong.”

“Did you call Trixie’s apartment?”

“Well, no, I didn’t.” He had been so sure something was wrong, could it be that Jim decided not to wait and then the two of them… Stop it! Regan told himself. You don’t want to go there!

“Hang on, Uncle Bill. I dropped Liz off at Trixie’s apartment half an hour ago. Let me give her a call and see if they were still there when she arrived.”

Disconnecting the call, he phoned Liz who answered on the second ring. She listened carefully to Dan’s question.

“No one was here,” she answered. “But something strange is going on.”

“Why?”

“Well, I couldn’t figure out why the clothes Trixie planned to wear were still on her bed, so I started looking around more closely. Her purse is still here and so are her keys. For the life of me, I don’t know what shoes she’s wearing since her hiking boots are still here as well as her Nikes. I checked and her car is in the parking lot; so is Jim’s SUV. I did check the laundry room just to be certain they hadn’t decided to get wild and crazy on a load of towels, but it was empty.”

“You sure it’s Jim’s SUV?” Dan asked frowning.

“I’m positive!” Liz answered. “License tag is FYL6429.”

“You want me to run it and be sure?” he asked.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I’m positive. I already ran it,” Liz told him.

“How on earth did you manage to… never mind, I don’t think I want to know. Listen call Di and Mart see if they’ve seen her. I’ll call Honey and Brian. I’m on my way over.”

“For what?” Liz asked in surprise.

“Unless one of them knows where she is, something is very, very wrong,” Dan told her.

 

 

Jim’s mind was numb from the anguishing scene he witnessed. He had begged Jonesy to stop; promising him anything, anything he wanted if he would leave Trixie alone. Jim was desensitized to the abuse Jonesy inflicted on him when he had finished beating Trixie. Nothing could hurt him like what he had just watched.

Jonesy quickly tired of this game. It was obvious Jim cared nothing about his own pain. Jim’s focus and concern was directed to the petite blonde, who was glaring rebelliously on the sofa. Breathing heavily he once again made his demand clear. “Sit on the chair.”

Jim stumbled as he moved to sit in the chair.

Jonesy walked to the table and grabbed the roll of duct tape; pulling off several long lengths to be sure he could bind Jim securely to the chair.

“You’re going down Jones,” Jim said quietly.

“You just don’t learn do you boy? Still the same arrogant, stupid, worthless piece of shit you were back then!” Jonesy sneered. Leaving his current task uncompleted, he yanked Trixie to her feet.

Jim struggled not to vomit as he watched Jonesy slap her face several times with his open hand. The stinging sound; the livid imprint of his large hand, which immediately turned bright red; the defiant look in her beautiful blue eyes since Jonesy’s assault; each blow caused bitter bile to rise in Jim’s throat. His eyes glittered with tears as he wordlessly tried to send a message to Trixie. Jim cringed as Jonesy yanked the petite young woman harshly by the arm, wrenching it into an unnatural position. It seemed to Jim she couldn’t stop the tears from pooling then and Jonesy continued to push her around before once again, tiring of the game and returning to callously slap duct tape over Jim’s mouth.

Jonesy sneered as he checked that he had securely bound Jim to the chair. Satisfied with his efforts he grinned maliciously at his stepson, and then began to methodically pummel Jim with well-placed blows from his fist.

“Just a reminder for you boy, for old-times sake. I wouldn’t want you to forget me!” He landed numerous punches to Jim’s body before stopping to size up Jim’s appearance. He turned to look at Trixie, pleased at the horrified look on her face as she stared at Jim.

Jonesy pushed up his shirtsleeves, as if preparing to start a tedious and difficult job. Just as he resumed his assault on Jim, a soft chirping interrupted his work. He looked around the room; the sound was emanating from Jim

“Don’t tell me the hot-shot doctor of psychology has a cell phone as well? Guess you got all the latest and greatest gadgets, huh boy?” Jonesy stood menacingly over Jim listening until he determined the chirp came from Jim’s jacket pocket. Locating the small cell phone, he pulled it out and gazed at the screen. “Regan Manor Stables,” he read off the display. “Guess one of your buddies is looking for you. Oh well, I would take a message for you but I’m sure a hot-shot like you has got that fancy voice mail.”

Jonesy fumbled with the cell phone as if he was unfamiliar with the technology. Eventually the phone stopped ringing, unanswered, its display screen changed to reflect the message one missed call.

The ringing phone distracted Jonesy from his assault on Jim. Fascinated with the tiny gadget, he punched a few buttons before finally flipping it open again. Looking at the colorful LCD screen he sneered again, “Oh, look here, the boy’s got a picture of his nosy girlfriend on his phone. This must be one of them there new camera phones. Only the best for my boy, huh?” Jonesy continued to play with the phone as he tried to figure out how to work the camera.

“Hey! Look here I can take pictures!” Jonesy grinned as he moved the phone around looking at the images through on the screen. He walked around the room to frame different shots in the camera’s image viewer. Looking up suddenly, he leered at Jim. “Hey, you know I can take lots better pictures of your snoopy girlfriend than this one. Some real girlie pics if you know what I mean.”

Jonesy dropped the camera into his pocket, unwilling to let Jim see he didn’t know how to actually take a picture with it, and moved closer to Trixie. “I’ll bet you’d give me some real good stuff wouldn’t you?” He reached out and ran one thick finger down the side of her face to her shoulder.

Trixie shuddered violently, but glared contemptuously at Jonesy. She gritted her teeth together and stared at him mutinously.

Sneering he reached for his leather belt instead of the phone. He thought she looked entirely too defiant. Jonesy brutally yanked her up so his face was inches from her own, forcing her to look him in the eye. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead as he spoke. “You think I don’t know how to hurt that boy?” he said so only she could hear. “This way I get to hurt him and teach you how to mind your own damn business! You’ve always been too nosy for your own good. Maybe this will teach you that nice girls don’t stick their nose into places it don’t belong.” He pushed her roughly back onto the sofa and raised his arm bringing the belt down with a satisfying thwack.

Eventually Jonesy turned his attention back to Jim, but was again interrupted by the now familiar chirping of Jim’s cell phone. Jonesy paused as he reached into his pocket for the phone.

“Ah, yes, another pal looking for the good doc. You late for a very important meetin’ kid?” He studied the display and announced out loud what he saw. “Dan work. Wow, so one of your good fer nuthin’ buddies can actually work, huh?”

 

 

Dan was pacing, totally convinced that something was indeed very, very wrong. For one thing, Mr. Maypenny was not easily spooked, neither was Regan. Mart and Di had not heard of any change of plans nor had Brian, Honey, Mrs. Burns, Tad, Margery or Brad. Tom and Celia were well on their way to upstate New York for a long weekend and Helen and Peter had been driven to the train station by Brian to catch the train to Syracuse. Matthew and Grace Wheeler were equally unaware of any emergency. Matthew had gone out to the stable and after talking to Regan, taken the saddled Jupiter out himself to locate Mr. Maypenny in the preserve.

They were all teamed up now. Dan and Liz at Trixie’s apartment, Regan and Ben at Manor House; Brian and Honey were at Crabapple Farm; and Mart and Di were headquartered at Frayler. Brian made the decision to call his father and confirm that he knew of no changes in Trixie’s plans that afternoon. It was his mother who answered their cell phone.

“No, as far as I know she was expecting to go out with Jim, this afternoon. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Not that we know of,” Brian admitted. “Honey was looking for her and thought it strange neither Jim nor Trixie were answering their cell phones.”

“Well Brian, they are entitled to some privacy,” Helen reminded her son. “I expect they’ve gone some place for a romantic dinner for two.”

“Thanks, Moms. Please don’t worry, I’m sure you’re right.” Brian told her.

Helen hung up the phone and looked over at Peter. “It will be a miracle if her brothers even let her have a honeymoon,” she said dryly.

“What’s wrong, now?”

“Oh, Brian and Honey are worried because they haven’t answered their phones,” Helen explained.

Peter chuckled, placing his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I hate to say it, but if I think what happened has happened, then they probably aren’t going to answer the phone.”

Helen snuggled against her husband, she was so tired. “I’m pretty sure you’re right and I don’t hate to say it at all. If our daughter has waited this long for Mr. Right, then she knows what she’s doing.”

“Oh, Helen. Surely you don’t think that Trixie is still, I mean that she hasn’t…” Peter was now embarrassed.

“Yes, in fact I know she is. She told me,” Helen told him as she rubbed his leg.

“But that guy John Harris, her old FBI partner that she brought home. You thought he was so handsome. I thought they were …” Peter protested as Helen giggled.

“Definitely not! The only person John was interested in sleeping with was Dan!” Helen managed to get out through her giggles.

“No way! He is not gay! He's too ... manly!”

“He’s manly alright, he likes men. I promise you Peter, John Harris is gay.”

“How do you know?” he asked suspiciously.

“Trixie told me.”

 

 

Jonesy had fiddled with the cell phone far longer than he intended trying to figure out how to take pictures. Frustrated, he closed the phone and sat it on the table next to his gun and his knife. He jumped when it rang immediately. Picking it pack up, he studied the tiny screen.

“Hey, that’s your big-shot detective business, ain’t it?” he laughed. “Some detective you are, why I bet you didn’t even know I was out of prison, did you?”

Trixie simply stared, unmoving, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that he was speaking to her.

“Hey girl, didn’t you hear me? I asked you a question. Didn’t you know I was out?”

Trixie, her mouth taped, was unable to answer, although it was obvious Jonesy was expecting either a shake or nod of her head.

He crossed the room towering over her menacingly. She was still on the sofa, staring at him mutinously.

“Answer me, bitch!” he demanded.

Trixie’s lack of an acknowledgement incensed Jonesy. His temper exploded as he delivered another a hard blow across her face, seemingly satisfied with the blood he saw oozing from her busted lip. Jonesy’s meaty hands grabbed her breasts, squeezing hard as he taunted her. “Not such a hot-shot FBI agent now are you girl?” he taunted as her eyes seemed to glaze.

Jim watched helplessly, knowing this day would become the worst memory of his life. Nothing he had experienced with Jonesy as a teen-ager would ever compare with the agony of being forced to watch Jonesy’s attack on his special girl. When he saw Jonesy squeeze her breasts through the thin camisole, he knew he was going to be sick. But even in the horror of the moment, it was Trixie who was saving him.

To Jim’s surprise, after the first flash of revulsion across her face, there was nothing but anger and defiance. He watched as she never faltered or showed any sign of weakness to the bastard who was beating her ruthlessly, hitting her body with his belt in places Jim knew from his own experience hurt like hell.

He realized he was watching Special Agent Beatrix Belden instead of Trixie. Agent Belden was totally in control of her emotions and doing what she had been trained to do. Twice Jim believed he rather die than watch the scene unfolding. His throat was so tight he struggled to breathe and he focused on the duct tape Jonesy had used to tightly bind his arms behind him. Finally Jim surged forward with such force that he toppled over, chair and all.

Jonesy laughed again. “The boy’s jealous I’m giving you all the attention. Never thought he’d be one to miss me like that.” He shifted his attention to Jim.

Each blow Jim received on his legs, side, abdomen and twice even his face was rendered forcefully. Jim felt a sense of relief with each punch, if nothing else, he had distracted Jonesy’s attention from Trixie. He could only pray it was enough to buy them time for someone to begin looking for them.

Jonesy grunted loudly with the force of his exertions, and the sound of the blows echoed through the otherwise silent clubhouse. When he finally stopped the beating he gave Jim two hard kicks to the abdomen, before looking around. He desperately wanted both a cigarette and a beer. He knew he couldn’t stop now, his time was running out.

 

 

Darkness was descending when both Matthew Wheeler and Mr. Maypenny returned to the Manor House stables. Regan didn’t have to ask, he could tell from both their faces they had found nothing. “I’ll take care of the horses, Matthew. You better give Dan a call and let him know. He might as well head on over here. I think it’s time he called the police.”

“Regan, the boy is the police,” Matthew reminded him. “I’m sure he’s already spoken with Molinson. You know Wendell will take anything seriously that involves his ace detective.”

“Of course,” Regan flushed, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Listen, let’s all work on these horses and talk about what we should do next. I’ll be right back as soon as I call Dan.”

Ben was the first to speak, “I thought Dan worked for the NYPD not for Molinson,” he said to Regan as he pulled the saddle off Strawberry. Ben was wise enough to leave the still spirited Jupiter to Regan and Mr. Wheeler.”

“He does,” Regan responded shortly.

“Then why is he Molinson’s ace detective?”

Regan grinned, unable to stop himself. “Matthew was referring to Trixie. He’s always maintained she’s the reason he was promoted to Captain, solving all his cases for him.”

“Oh!” Ben answered in surprise.

 

 

Over at Trixie’s apartment, Liz was doing the only thing she knew to do. She logged onto Trixie’s computer and started hacking. She reviewed the files Trixie had been working on, especially the notes on her unofficial case involving Tim Delanoy and his automotive business. She ran query after query but it wasn’t until she actually hacked into the business itself that she found a link.

“Dan, what was Jim’s stepfather’s name?”

“Jonesy, why?”

“No, what was his full name?”

“Eugene Earl Jones. Why? He’s just gotten out of prison.” Dan looked over her shoulder.

“He’s living on Hawthorne Street,” she said studying the information. “The reports says he obtained transportation so he could work.”

“Doing what?”

Liz shook her head, “It’s not clear, seems as if it’s in the automotive industry somehow. According to his parole officer he drives a dark green sedan.”

“Shit!” Dan dove for the phone.

 

 

“Listen, you do what you need to do. I’m telling you that whatever is going on with those two is going on somewhere along Glen Road,” Maypenny insisted. “I can help the most if I keep patrolling the area. I’ve got my gun and I know what I’m doing.”

Matthew nodded; he knew that he wouldn’t convince the old man of anything different. “Agreed; but you need a way to get in touch with us if you find them.”

“I can fire two shots, with old Bessie here,” Maypenny said as he patted the stock.

“Come on Maypenny,” Regan scoffed. “What if you need to keep quiet and call for reinforcements?”

The old man snorted, “I don’t need no stinkin’ reinforcements.”

“Regan’s right. At least take one of the cell phones, there is coverage everywhere along Glen Road,” Matthew argued.

“Here, take mine,” Ben said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Don’t know how to work it,” Mr. Maypenny muttered, refusing to take the complicated phone.

“Okay, then take one of the radios. It’s good up to seven miles,” Regan told him. “Use Channel seven.”

“Got it. I’ll check in every mile.” He nodded in approval as Regan handed him the radio. Nodding at the three men standing in the stable he left. Ben was the first to speak.

“How will he know when he’s gone a mile?” he wanted to know.

Regan and Matthew exchanged a look before Matthew answered, “He’ll just know. Don’t know how the old coot knows half of what he knows. Trust me, he knows how to use your phone, he just didn’t want it. He doesn’t trust new technology.”

 

 

Maypenny’s first stop was the trailer. He didn’t expect to find anything there, but it was closest so he might as well get it out of the way. A thought occurred to him and he used the radio.

“Yeah, what is it?” Regan answered almost immediately.

“Phone down to Lytell’s and tell him to keep an eye out,” Maypenny told the younger man succinctly. “Nosy as he is, he’ll be the first to spy something suspicious! By the way, the kid’s trailer is all clear. I’m heading over towards the old schoolhouse next.”

“Roger, out.” Regan said shortly, shaking his head. Mr. Maypenny was correct; Frank Lytell would notice anything or anyone out of the ordinary. He picked up the phone to call the old storekeeper.

 

 

Jonesy sighed as he crushed out the remainder of his cigarette with his foot. Now that he had a smoke he was ready to get the job finished. He checked his watch, noting he had time before his scheduled rendezvous he decided to try and get the camera on Jim’s phone to work one more time. He hated to act as if he thought it was anything special, but he was intrigued by the damn thing. He gazed around noticing the encroaching darkness. The last thing he would need is to turn on a light. He opened the phone messing around with the buttons as he pulled out another cigarette. Smoking more slowly, he moved the phone around finally hitting the right button. Pleased with his efforts, Jonesy focused the camera on Trixie and kicked at her once more.

“Roll over you stupid bitch, I can’t get a good shot like that!”

Jonesy was angry when Trixie remained motionless. “Didn’t you hear me, nosy?” he demanded. “You two are the most stubborn twits I’ve ever seen.” Jonesy reached for the knife on the table and flicked it open. He noticed that Jim was still watching him, and jeered.

“Watch close boy, you might just learn something tonight.

Jonesy jerked Trixie harshly into a sitting position, shaking her as he spoke. “What’s the matter with your ears you stupid meddler? You never have learned to leave well enough alone. Maybe this time you’ll learn your lesson.” Closing his hand into a fist he punched her hard in the stomach.

Jim cringed as he watched Trixie slowly shake her head after the blow, but her eyes returned immediately to seek out his own. It was difficult to maintain eye contact since he had tipped his chair over.

Jim saw the flash of a knife in front of her face and in one harsh movement Jonesy held the blade at her throat. Jim swallowed as he felt a cold sweat break out over his entire body. He noticed Trixie give a small, almost instinctive flinch as Jonesy drew the flat side of the blade slowly down her neck, across her shoulder and down between her breasts. Jonesy obviously enjoyed the flinch.

“So you like my knife, do you? Just wait girlie, just wait.” He turned the knife then and in one swift movement easily cut through the thin cotton camisole strap on her left shoulder. Jonesy sneered, knowing he had given Jim a good scare. He released Trixie, pushing her back against the old sofa. He kept the knife in his hand and slowly picked the phone back up, moving around the room awkwardly to focus it. Then he noticed Jim’s eyes watching him closely.

“Hey boy, wake up! You don’t wanna miss the best part.” Jonesy laughed as he watched Jim stare up at him. He pulled Jim so that the chair was once again upright with Jim slumped as he sat bound in the wooden chair. He finally had a full view of Trixie and the green eyes were wide and horror-stricken as he watched her creep slowly and awkwardly towards the gun Jonesy had left on the table. Trixie had loosened the bindings on her wrists and was almost free. Jonesy had been so busy watching her face when he taunted her with the knife, he hadn’t noticed. Jim held his breath hoping she would make it.

“What you think about your hot-shot girlfriend now, boy? Ain’t such a good detective after all, is she?” he jeered as he flicked the knife open and tested the blade with his beefy hand. “I asked you a question, boy, ain’t you gonna answer me!” he hissed, his eyes full of fury.

Jim’s quick glance to see how close she was to the gun betrayed his girlfriend. Jonesy turned to follow Jim’s gaze.

Jonesy let out a howl and pounced, his knife coming down straight through Trixie’s left hand as she reached for his gun. The scream reached Jim’s ears through the duct tape over her mouth, and he felt an overwhelming wave of nausea as he saw the blood. Too much blood, there is too much blood, he thought, as Jonesy pulled his knife out of her hand.

“Think you’re tough stuff, huh, bitch?” he said with a smirk. He enjoyed seeing the look on her face as she brought her hand up close to her chest, obviously reeling with pain. Jonesy knew if he did nothing else, the odds were good she would bleed to death.

 

 

Maypenny had checked the old schoolhouse, before deciding the next most logical place would be the kid’s old clubhouse.

He stopped and used the radio, “Regan, Maypenny here.”

“Did you find them?” Regan asked immediately.

“No, just checked the old schoolhouse, nothing going on there either. I’m heading towards their clubhouse. I might check out Ten Acres on my way there.”

“Don’t bother,” Regan replied. “Matthew just headed up towards Ten Acres to check things out. He had a feeling Jim was heading there eventually with Trixie.”

“Okay then, on to the clubhouse.”

Maypenny moved stealthily through the woods when he heard it, a chirping electronic noise. Sounds just like one of those damn phones they wanted me to take! He thought as he stopped and listened. He would have sworn then he heard the faint sound of a voice coming from the direction of the clubhouse. He moved forward with a new resolve and then he smelled it. Tobacco! He hesitated. M aybe I should radio the stables. Deciding not to risk any noise, he reached down and turned the radio off.

 

 

Dan frowned as he drove down Old Telegraph Road, deciding to take a circuitous route to Frayler Academy. It wouldn’t hurt to watch for signs of activity. He had decided to begin with Frayler, since that was Jim’s last known location.

“That’s strange,” Liz whispered as she stared down at Dan’s phone in her hand. She had called Jim’s cell phone several times. They had put the word out not to call Trixie’s phone. Since the moment her purse had started ringing in the apartment, they knew such efforts were for naught.

“What’s strange?” Dan asked looking at her.

“Someone has answered Jim’s phone but they’re not saying anything.”

Dan pulled his jeep over so he could study the phone and listened carefully for a clue. He motioned with his finger for Liz to be quiet and pushed the speaker button on his cell phone so she could hear as well. They both held their breath as they listened.

“Make one damn move I swear I’ll shoot him right in the head!” Dan and Liz exchanged horrified looks as they listened. The voice was neither Jim nor Trixie’s.

“Now, let me see if I can get another damn picture on this thing,” the voice muttered and then there was silence again. “Oh yeah, this will make a great souvenir for me. I’m going to want to keep this one… not bad….post… internet…” the voice was fading in and out, causing Dan to frown. Unless Jim and Trixie were in a moving vehicle with this person the signal should be static. “Okay, boy, it’s time for your final lesson.” At that moment, Dan’s phone went still. The connection had been broken.

Dan knew by instinct the voice had to be Jonesy. Who else would refer to Jim as boy, he rationalized. His thinking was interrupted Liz’s concerned voice.

“It’s him isn’t it?” she asked almost fearfully. “Jim’s stepfather, the one I found on the computer?”

Dan nodded, and Liz clasped a hand over her mouth in horror as Dan racked his brain. Where would Jonesy take them?

“Is he familiar with this area?” she asked.

“Yeah, he’s hung around before making trouble. That’s what got him sent to prison, attempted murder of Jim’s cousin.”

“So, why take them somewhere?” she asked. “Why take them at all?”

“Revenge, greed, money,” Dan answered immediately. “He took them away from the apartment because of you. He wouldn’t risk you walking in on him, because it wasn’t going to be quick. If he’s teaching Jim a lesson that means he must be beating him again. That means he wouldn’t want to be overheard.”

“Okay, I agree. Where could he take them he wouldn’t be overheard?” Liz said promptly. “The game preserve?”

“No, he’s either taken them to the old summerhouse at Ten Acres or the clubhouse,” Dan answered, cranking the jeep back up. “Call Uncle Bill, please. I want to get a sit-rep.”

Liz sat back and punched the numbers in, asking “Which way are you going?”

“They’re both the same way.”

 

 

Jonesy could see that the girl struggling to stay conscious. She seemed to have a hard time focusing her eyes and she was beginning to shake. He had quickly rebound her hands using one of the many plastic tie-ons he had stuck in his pocket. He deliberately pulled it tight enough to cut into the flesh on her wrists, satisfied when she winced. He checked his watch, knowing his partner would be back any moment. It was easy enough now to yank her brutally off the couch and toss her down onto the old wooden table. She no longer seemed to notice that she was practically nude, the robe had long since been lost during one of the beatings and blood was smeared over most of her body.

Jim could see her eyes widen and they both realized at the same moment what Jonesy intended as his hands moved to the waistband of Trixie’s underwear.

Jim prayed as she began to fight like a catamount. She shoved with her tightly bound hands and kicked at Jonesy with bound feet. Except for one well connected blow to his chest, her efforts were futile. He finally tired of the game and pulled out his gun and held it to her head.

“You got two choices bitch. You can stop fighting me or I’ll take lover boy out right now!”

Trixie stopped struggling and looked up at Jonesy. He gave a satisfied nod before speaking.

“Now, let me tell you exactly what you’re doing to do.” Before he could continue, Jim’s cell phone chirped again, this time Jonesy cursed the interruption and annoyed with the phone he yanked it out of his pocket and looked at it again.

Jim watched closely. He had noticed the look on Trixie’s face when Jonesy was distracted by the phone and he knew she was going to try something.

Jonesy moved directly in front of her, reaching to sit the phone down next to his gun, as if he wanted full use of both hands. Trixie’s leg muscles tightened as she pulled her legs up slowly towards her chest. Jonesy looked over to make sure Jim was watching. “Hey boy, I’m gonna teach this girl …”

Jim held his breath. He knew this was it and from that point, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He watched as Beatrix Belden, top FBI academy graduate, former agent and information analyst, finally made her move. She picked up her feet, drew her knees up to her waist and aimed right for Jonesy’s groin. She kicked with an intent and force hard enough to inflict debilitating damage.

Jonesy screamed in pain at the direct and forceful hit and stumbled backwards. Trixie rolled over to the side of the table. Although she had limited use of her hands and feet she was fully dedicated to her mission. She stumbled and using her arms flung the gun off the table away from where Jonesy writhed in pain on the floor then, balancing as best she could, she hobbled towards it. As Jonesy struggled to push to his knees he saw her moving for the gun and began to falter as he tried desperately to crawl towards it. Jim made a tremendous thrust forward and landed, chair and all, on top of Jonesy, slowing him briefly. The two men struggled wildly before Jonesy grabbed the knife and grinned at his stepson triumphantly as he pushed Jim off him. Jim’s eyes widened as he felt the knife go into his leg; then blinked as he heard shots fired.

Jim gasped for a few seconds before looking down at his stepfather and then over at Trixie. She was on her knees; with shaking hands she held the gun pointed at the eerily still figure of Eugene Jones.

 

 

Jim grimaced as he squirmed towards Trixie and she started crawling towards him, whimpering softly. They had just reached each other when they both heard a familiar voice yelling, “Get back here, you coward!” Both of them cringed when they heard the shotgun blast, and the familiar voice utter in disgust, “Oh for the love of a good rifle.” Trixie reached for him then and managed to get the duct tape from his mouth.

“Oh, God, Trixie!” he moaned. “Your hand! Are you okay?”

She shook her head. Since there was no way he could remove her tape, she simply leaned her head into his shoulder for a moment. They both turned to look as the door to the clubhouse pushed open and Mr. Maypenny stood there, his shotgun loaded and ready for use.

The old man took one look and moved as quickly and nimbly as ever. Flipping on the radio, he yelled into the device. “Regan, get an ambulance to the clubhouse, now. We need at least two of them. They’re both here and need help. Send Brian, now!”

“He’s at the farm, he’ll be heading your way,” Regan replied, succinctly. Reaching to call 9-1-1 and giving the pertinent details on the stable phone, at the same time he dialed the number of Crabapple Farm on his cell phone. He knew Brian would understand the directions to the emergency operator and head towards the clubhouse.

As soon as he disconnected he called Matthew Wheeler’s phone and in a few words conveyed the situation. Both men hurried towards the clubhouse.

Mr. Maypenny immediately removed the tape from Trixie’s mouth before he covered her petite frame with his own jacket.

“Are you okay?” she whispered in a raspy voice, looking at Jim in concern.

Maypenny quickly and nimbly removed the bindings from Jim and Trixie.

In spite of the blood spreading on the leg of his denim jeans, his first movement was to reach for Trixie. He smiled faintly and gently tugged his curl. “You’re fantastic!” he spoke in a stilted voice.

“Who’s that?” Mr. Maypenny nodded toward the motionless figure that Trixie had neutralized.

“My stepfather, Eugene Jones,” Jim said in a low voice, feeling a wave guilt. Why hadn’t he told Trixie that Jonesy was out of prison!

“What happened to your hand?” Maypenny asked as he picked up the small, pale and cold hand of the trembling woman. He looked over to Jim when Trixie found she was unable to answer.

“He stabbed her. It’s been a while. She lost a lot of blood.”

Mr. Maypenny applied a makeshift bandage to Trixie’s hand, noting it had already begun to clot. There was little he could do about the loss of blood, noting her pale face and continued silence; he glanced worriedly at the door of the clubhouse. He gave a small sigh of relief as Brian burst through the door, the first to arrive.

As in times past, all Bob-Whites converged at the clubhouse. Brian had jumped in the car as he listened to Regan’s emergency call. Honey was with him. Within minutes Dan and Liz pulled up outside the door just behind Regan and Matthew Wheeler. Diana and Mart managed to beat the ambulances by minutes.

By the time Dan arrived inside the clubhouse, it was clearly Brian who was in charge.

“Matthew, keep the door clear, I need the medics in here as quickly as possible. Have Mart and Di see if they can create a make-shift ice bag with the snow outside. Regan, find something to wrap around that knife, but don’t move it, we won’t pull that out until we get to the hospital. Dan, would you check…”

They all noticed the catch in Brian’s voice as he nodded his head toward the motionless Jonesy.

Dan cursed as he looked around the room and saw the blood and then the belt. Looking at his friends, Dan slowly moved to check Jonesy’s pulse and noticed the gun. He quietly asked Maypenny to clear everyone who wasn’t essential out of the clubhouse. Molinson would have his head on a platter if he didn’t preserve the scene, Trixie or not.

He knelt down again by Jonesy, moving to his neck, cringing at the feeble pulse. “He’s alive,” he said quietly, looking over at Brian.

“I can fix that for you,” Maypenny interjected, giving the younger man a look.

Dan shook his head, “Brian, what do I need to do for him?”

“Jim?” A faint voice asked, and everyone looked at the pale girl, trembling as she struggled to keep her eyes open.”

Her eyes moved to seek out Jim. She ignored everyone’s questions, and looked at Jim. In her mind, he was the only person there and she was consumed with guilt as she blamed herself for what happened. “I’m sorry, Jim. This is my fault. All of this is my fault,” Trixie repeated over and over again as if she were reciting a mantra.

“Stop,” Jim managed to shout out that much as he looked at her. He took a deep breath and suddenly found he was unable to speak. He was struggling mightily to stay conscious, but everything seemed very far away.

The next few minutes were a blur of activity, action and noise. Emergency medical technicians arrived in the room. Brian sent Trixie in the first ambulance and began to work furiously on Jim, ordering an IV be started immediately and applying a pressure bandage to control the bleeding, until Jim could be taken to surgery.

“Over here, doctor!” a voice called as one set of paramedics loaded Jim on the first gurney. Another pair was furiously working on Eugene Jones. Brian sighed, as he looked around, wondering how so much malice could be spawned in their cozy clubhouse.

“We're losing him!” the medics yelled and Brian, jerked out of his reverie, leaped into action.