Prologue
The smell was overpowering
and only made worse by the heat of the day. It came over them in a great wave
as the four officers made their way into the basement of the old building.
Urine, feces and blood mixed together was a smell that could bring the
strongest veteran cop to his knees. Sgt. Harrison gagged and turned back but
the other three continued down the stairs. Somewhere ahead was who they were
looking for.
The girl they had nicknamed
Sunshine.
The detectives working the
case had taken the petite teenager with the big smile and long blonde hair into
their hearts. Buffy Anne Summers was special, a Junior Varsity cheerleader,
homecoming queen, and a community volunteer. She was the one that all the girls
wanted to be like and the one all the boys wanted to have on their arm. They
never found anyone that had anything bad to say about her. The upper class
neighborhood where she lived had mobilized in full force to help find her. Her
smiling picture was posted everywhere and flashed on the nightly news. A
picture proclaiming her innocent happiness and from that bright smile came her
nickname.
It also kept them from
caring too much. The cops knew. They had seen too many cases. If she was found
alive then she’d most likely never be the same girl again. But they still
wanted to find her, to still have hope, that maybe they’d be wrong. The tip had
come in that morning. A break that had them scurrying. Someone had heard
screaming in this building the night before. They were here to check it out.
Officer Nagle, still a first
year rookie, was determined to see this through. He considered himself lucky to
have been on duty when the detectives had called for back up. If he could keep
his head, help solve the case of the missing girl then he might be taken
seriously on the force. The hated nickname of Officer Idol, for his shocking
platinum hair, might be dropped.
“Nagle, take that way,” Detective
Jim Thorson, pointed toward the right. “Bob, go straight ahead and I’m going to
go around toward the left.
One order and the course of
Spike’s life was altered forever.
He simply nodded his head,
turned his flashlight on and headed right. There were boxes scattered
everywhere, some of them still in stacks, probably just like they had been years
ago. The building had been empty for almost a decade, condemned because the
landlord couldn’t handle taking care of necessary repairs. Now, it stood as a
testament of a different time when the neighborhood was safe. It wasn’t anymore
though. Not even the police liked to patrol it. Too many shootings, too many
drugs and not enough regard for human life.
Spike kicked a box that was
in his path. There was a small noise like an intake of breath. His head flew up
as he flashed the light around the space that was in front of him. He listened
to the footsteps of the other three officers, the scuttling of rats as they
were forced from their sleeping grounds and the breathing. It was coming in
small gasps somewhere in front of him. He remained silent and moved forward.
There in the corner was a pile of furniture, desks, couches, chairs and a small
entrance way against the wall. The breathing was coming from behind there.
His stomach clenched in
fear. Bile rose in his throat as the stench from whatever…or whoever was behind
there got stronger. He automatically reached for his gun, did a quick sweep,
turned and pressed his back against the wall. Nothing, no one around in this
corner of hell except him and whatever was behind the barrier. Spike said a
quick prayer, slid along the wall until all he had to do was turn his head. He
did and wished he hadn’t. His eyes closed from the sight but his body continued
to move until he was inside with her.
The missing girl, he had
found her.
“Hey,” Spike said, so softly
that it barely broke through the silence. It was hardly louder than her
breathing. “My name is Officer Nagle. I’m a cop. You’re safe now.”
She didn’t hear. Buffy was
lost somewhere else. Her bone thin arms were wrapped around her legs while she
rocked back and forth on the filthy mattress. Her once soft, blonde hair hung
in matted tangles around her otherwise nude body. Chains held her captive in
some sick bastard’s idea of prison. She had been barricaded behind the
furniture in a corner where it would be easy to overlook her. Trapped where
there was barely any light and no sun for weeks if she had been here since her
kidnapping.
Spike flashed the light
around to make sure everything was safe before he approached her. The sight
only made his stomach threaten to empty. Between the mattress and the wall was
a bucket for her personal use. Empty fast food bags littered the floor but they
had been torn apart by the rats. And a few hadn’t made it. Their soft gray
bodies lay scattered across the floor.
Taking a few more steps,
Spike crouched next to the mattress and took his first good look at her. His
mind chronicled her injuries for his reports and testimonies. There were
bruises littering her body, random, varying in colors and intensity. Blood was
caked on her legs, back and hips. His eyes traveled down her legs, taking in
the bites from what must have been the rats that were now dead. The tale was as he had known it would be;
sexual assault, numerous beatings to keep her in line and a desperate attempt
on her part to stay alive. He glanced back up at her face. She still hadn’t
acknowledged him. Buffy was still rocking, still breathing, her eyes still
closed.
“Hey, Nagle, you find
anything man?” Thorson called out.
“Yeah, get the paramedics,”
Spike answered. “She’s here.”
The sound of the radio
beeping broke through the silence more than words ever could. Buffy jumped as
the first one jarred her. She rocked faster, her fingers tightening on her
legs, as if she thought it could keep him
away from her.
“They’re on their way,” Thorson
said, stepping into the small space. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck did…”
“Get a blanket,” Spike
ordered, leaning protectively in front of the girl. She’s only fourteen, only fourteen, a little girl still, kept
repeating in his mind. He didn’t want anyone else to see her small, broken
body. She was so fragile looking, so frightened in spite of the fact that she
seemed to be mentally existing somewhere else.
“Here,” and a blanket sailed
through the air, landing on Spike’s back. He called out a
thanks and fell to his knees to wrap it around her.
“It’s all over, pet. The
ambulance is coming to get you,” he cooed to her. Using the same voice he did
when he rocked his cousin, Angel’s baby. It was then that he saw the chains
again. Damn it. He finished tucking
the blanket around her then picked up his flashlight. He swung the beam over
the walls and the furniture, hoping that somehow the key was there. It would be
easier on her than taking a hack saw to them. He spotted them and for the first
time since he had found her, an intense anger filled him.
They were hanging just out
of Buffy’s reach and the scratches on the wall showed how hard she had tried to
get to them. God help her kidnapper if he found him first and he was alone.
Spike didn’t think he’d have any qualms about breaking the bastard’s neck. The hell with justice. There shouldn’t be justice for anyone
who could do this to a child.
Her eyes opened, wide in the
frightened face as she looked at him then to where he was reaching. They followed
him as he took the keys. Knowing that one wrong move might send her further
into her hell, Spike moved slower as he turned to sit in front of her on the
mattress.
“I’m going to undo them
now,” Spike said, soft and easy. “I’m going to let you go. Bet those things
hurt, don’t they?” He took her hand in his, saw the rips on her skin where she
had stretched to reach the keys or tried to pull her hand off in order to free
herself. She was still watching him. No tears though, no words, no movement,
she just let him undo the chains. Spike dropped them off the side of the bed.
“Is that better, lamb? The paramedics are coming now. They’re going to take you
to the hospital.”
Buffy glanced toward the
entry then back to him. There were more voices, more noise as they brought a
stretcher into the basement. Suddenly two men appeared, brisk and business
like, carrying their medical equipment. It was too much for her and Spike
reached for her as the first scream erupted from her lips. She burrowed against
him. Her hands hanging desperately onto his shirt as he rocked her.
“You’re safe, it’s going to
be okay,” Spike said. “They just want to check you out before they take you to
the hospital. I bet your mom and dad will be waiting for you. Don’t you want to
see them?”
Buffy wouldn’t let go of him
and eventually the paramedics did a preliminary exam on her with Spike still
holding her. They decided that he would ride with them to the hospital in an
effort to keep her calm. She never said a word as he wrapped the blanket
securely around her and scooped her up in his arms. Her face was buried against
his neck as he walked by the other officers who were watching with saddened
eyes. On the ride to the hospital, she sat in his lap, never letting go of him.
He had been right. Her
parents were waiting by the door for the ambulance. In a surreal desire not to
let go of his responsibility, Spike hugged her tighter to him as he stepped
from the vehicle. She had given him her trust and a part of him wanted to stay
with her forever but her mother’s arms were waiting. Buffy accepted the
stretcher as her parent’s fussed over her. He watched as they rolled her away.
Her eyes never left his until they turned a corner and she was gone from view.
A sense of loss filled him
as he turned to walk away. It was over. She was safe. His job was done. He
stood in the afternoon sun reliving the last hour in his mind as he waited for
his partner to pick him up. The horror of it reached through his soul and he
barely reached a trash can before he lost his lunch.
to be continued…
