Deadly Stillwater

“Air, how are we getting air?” Carrie replied. She found what looked to be the answer. “It’s behind me, two holes with vents over them.” She turned her back on Shannon and flashed the light on the nearest vent. “We’re getting air, so I guess that’s good news.”

Shannon put her mouth to the opening.

“Help, can anyone hear me?”

Carrie put her ear to the grate to see if she could hear any response. She repeatedly yelled and then listened for a couple of minutes. There was no response.

She scanned the top of the box and upon inspection understood at least one reason why they couldn’t push the top off.

“Look at that.”

“What?”

“The screws. Or at least those little silver tips sticking through the wood. The top of this thing is screwed on. No wonder we couldn’t budge it.”

She used the flashlight and scanned the box again. Down by Shannon’s feet, in the corner, there was a small black object. Carrie reached with her left leg, caught the object with her toe and dragged it back so that she could reach it with her hands.

It was a Dictaphone.

Carrie slid the button up. There was a whirring, then a crackling sound, followed by the voice she heard when lying on the bed.

“ Hello girls. First, if you haven’t done so already, you will want to turn on the flashlight. But economize its use; you may be in the box for a while.”

Carrie reached to the flashlight to shut it off.

“Leave the light on for now,” Shannon said. “I like being able to see.”

“Okay,” Carrie answered and then started the Dictaphone again.

“ A little information about your new home,” the voice said. “It is five feet underground. You are in a reinforced plywood box from which you have no hope of escaping, so it would be unwise for you to waste your time and energy doing so. Also, you are in an isolated spot, so yelling is pointless.”

Carrie stopped the tape.

“I guess you can save your breath,” Shannon said. “They’ve probably got us buried in the middle of nowhere.”

Carrie nodded and started the Dictaphone again.

“ So how long have you been down there, you’re wondering? We gave you a sedative. It knocked you out for what I expect would be eighteen hours, give or take. By the time you’re hearing this tape it will be mid-afternoon on July third.”

Carrie showed Shannon her watch, confirming that it was 2:10.

“ How long will you be in your current abode, you ask? If all goes according to plan, you will be out of that box by tomorrow evening, maybe even in time to see some fireworks. I do apologize for your current accommodations. While I’m sure they are most uncomfortable and frightening for you, they were nevertheless necessary to provide proper motivation for your fathers. This is also why there is no food or water inside. If your fathers follow our instructions to the letter, you’ll be back with them soon enough. If not?” the voice paused.

“ Let’s just say that there will be no getting out.”

17 “ Any problems getting down?”

Dean pulled the van into the parking lot of the diner across the street from the Bayside Marina in Hudson. Smith climbed out and looked back.

“We should be up there in about forty-five minutes,” he said.

“See you there,” David replied.

Smith slid the door closed and walked away a changed man. Gone were the work clothes of two hours ago. Now, the kidnapper was a skipper in boating wear with flip-flops, a Brewers baseball cap, flowery Speedo swim trunks, a white cotton golf shirt open at the collar, and black mirrored wraparound sunglasses. He hoisted a black nylon carry-on bag over his shoulder as he walked across the street and through rows of luxury cars and high-end SUVs in the marina parking lot. Beyond the parking lot, he came to the massive, ten-foot-wide, graying wood pier jutting out into the dark waters of the St. Croix River.

The Bayside Marina had four rows of boat slips. His destination was the last row of slips to the north, a guest slip on the outside at the far end of the dock. In the guest slip floated their white thirty-two-foot offshore express cruiser. They’d stolen the boat from a marina along the river in Davenport, Iowa, six weeks earlier. After they applied a new customized paint job of blue and red stripes, they launched the boat in Lake City and spent a great day boating up the river and to the slip in Hudson.

Monica was onboard already. She came up from the cabin dressed in white jean shorts over her one-piece black Speedo swimsuit, accessorized with wide black sunglasses and a white Nike tennis cap. Without saying a word, she tossed the boat keys to Smith.

Smith put the key in the ignition and smiled as the boat roared to life. Monica cast off the ropes, first for the bow and then the stern. Once she was back on board, Smith slowly backed out of the slip and, when the bow was clear, turned right and headed for the river.