Fuensalida

Chapter 3

Celeste’s fingers trembled, holding tightly onto her blouse, watching Chris point and aim the gun. He kept the gun aimed while walking towards Cassie, and past her, gripping the handcuffs she left lying on the floor. He picked them up off of the ground and glanced over at Celeste, who had not moved, still gripping her blouse. He violently shoved Cassie forward and growled at Celeste, “I told you to put on your damned blouse.” He clicked the handcuffs around Cassie’s wrist and tugged her towards her daughter, who hurriedly moved to put her blouse around her arms again, her fingers fumbling with the buttons.

He gripped Celeste’s wrist and dragged her closer to her mother, leaving her shirt open. He clamped the other cuff over Celeste’s wrist, tighter than he would have if he had been paying attention. He pushed both women forward, both disheveled and helpless. Chris kept the gun aimed on Frederick’s head and smiled cruelly. “You two, go meet me at the car,” he demanded of them. Neither of them moved.

Frederick, in an effort to be a hero at the last minute, already know his time was up, lunged for Chris, swinging at him, trying to take his legs out from under him. Chris moved quickly backwards, pushing both women further back as he did. “You girls have less than thirty seconds to get out of here,” he snapped, “or your daughter gets to watch her father die.”

Cassie nearly yanked her poor daughter away, the cuffs biting into their wrists as they pushed from the hotel room. Both women debated screaming for help, but it was hopeless. The fatal shot was heard when they were only a few breaths away from the door, and Chris was on their tail, ushering them quickly to the car. He had the keys in his hand and opened the backseat door behind the driver side, forcing Cassie in first, then Celeste dragged in behind her. He hurried to the driver’s side door and let himself in, locking the back doors, though he doubted the two of them would be attempting a bold escape from a moving vehicle.

No one spoke for the first five minutes of the dark drive. He kept checking the rearview mirror, the two women huddled together. He could only see the top of Celeste’s dark head. He knew she was shaking, likely crying. His eyes met Cassie’s and that’s when she started.

“At least undo the handcuffs,” she snapped at him. “If we are going to be in the car for a while you might as well at least take these chains off of us.”

“You have no idea how long you will be in that backseat, so you have no idea if I should be keeping you in ‘chains’ or not,” he retorted, keeping his eyes on the road now.

Cassie raised their wrists, both women putting their wrists against the back of the seat. Chris gripped the key he had not forgotten to bring with him and stuck the key in Cassie’s cuff and turned it, releasing the thick metal from around her wrist, the pulling the key out and putting his hand back on the steering wheel. Celeste left her wrist over the backseat, waiting, hoping. He ignored her.

She left it there for a few minutes, then slowly slid it down and away. She leaned away from her mother and against the door. Cassie looked up at Chris furiously. “There’s no reason to keep that cuff on her wrist. It’s tight and cutting off her circulation and you are punishing her when you said you didn’t even want her involved.”

“Look, lady,” he snapped. “I just killed your husband, what the Hell makes you think I will let you live if you continue to berate me.”

“She’s innocent in this!”

“None of you are innocent in this!” His angry voice had Cassie backing down from the argument.

The ride was silent again for a few more minutes, then Chris’s voice, quietly, told Celeste, “Celeste, move your wrist up here.” She slid it, very gingerly, up to the back of the seat. He slid the key into the cuff and quickly turned it so that it fell away from her wrist and onto his side of the seat. Before she could pull her hand away he gripped her fingers, gently, pulling her forward just a bit. He kissed her wrist gently, turning his head only slightly. He noticed the blood across her wrist. It had tugged more than he thought.

He thought he heard her whisper to him, quietly, through tears that were falling. He would have sworn he had heard the words, “I’m sorry,” slip through her lips, but he paid no mind to it. He would convince himself it was a figment of his imagination as he released her hand and let her slide away, back into her corner of the back of the car.

They drove for over an hour in silence. He was pulling off of main roads and deeper into country areas, and he was moving quickly while still staying at an acceptable speed limit. When the car finally slowed and to a stop they were on the gravel driveway of a small home that looked like it had wanted to be a cabin at one point. He put the car in park and slipped out of the car, his gun firmly in his hand. He opened the car door for Celeste and watched her slide out, her blouse buttoned sometime during the car ride. She looked pale, paler than normal at least. He debated with himself helping her into the house, then decided against it. He had to remain cold and hard, there was no telling what he would have to do. He promised himself he would not kill her, however what he had done was hurtful enough. Touching her was going to make things worse, for all of them.

He waited for Cassie to step out of the car herself, her legs wobbly. She walked over to them, reaching out for her daughter, who pulled away from her as well and walked alone, in front of them all. She stepped up onto the porch and waited for Chris to push the door open and turn on the lights. The three of them walked into this home, two of them not knowing where they were or why. Chris moved behind Celeste and gently placed his hand on her back and pushed her forward. She moved, following where he guided her. She was lead to a relatively small room that did have a small bathroom connected to it. “The windows are nailed shut,” he told her. She stepped into the room, her eyes moving to them. “I know you could break the windows, you are a clever enough girl to know how to do it without hurting yourself. If you break it, I will hear it, if you run you have more out there to fear than just me.” She only nodded and he closed the door, locking her in from the outside.

He turned to Cassie and pointed the gun at her. She snarled, but went over to the room he pointed her to. “You don’t have to keep pointing the gun at me,” she snapped. “I’m not going anywhere without my daughter.”

“You almost did once,” Chris snapped, “how the Hell do I believe you wouldn’t try again?”

She had no honest answer to that. How did she know he would not kill her in the darkness of night? How did she know he wouldn’t string them up by their toes and leave them dangling to die? The only thing she knew was that running was not the best move for her right now.

“Get in there,” he snapped. She did just that and found herself locked into a similar bedroom to her daughter’s.

It took about ten minutes for him to go back to Celeste’s room sans gun. She was sitting on the bed, looking down at her wrist. Guilt went through him though he shook it off, stepping forward and reaching down for her wrist. She slowly raised it up and let him take it into his hand. He wrapped a cloth quickly around it and she whimpered at the pain. The cloth was soaked in an ointment that would sting, at first, then quickly begin to soothe. As he kept his hand around the cloth he placed a cup of hot chocolate on the bedside table for her.

He released her wrist gently. “Try to keep it on as long as you can,” he told her. “And try to get some rest, please.”

She shrugged her shoulders, refusing to look at him as he exited the room. Ten minutes later she was out like a light, the sleeping pill in the hot chocolate working quickly in her delicate system.

Chris did not bother with the woman in the other room. He wanted her to pace the floor, to worry. He laid out on the couch that was between both bedrooms and closed his eyes, wondering if he would regret what he had done.