Airel - Aaron Patterson [80]
The killer cleared his throat and sat down. The chair scraped on the cobblestone as he pulled it closer to the table, and I got a strong sense that it was intentional. “There will be time to ask and answer all of your questions. All the time in the world. Let us eat.” He had a calm look on his face as if this was all quite routine for him.
Michael shot me a look and pulled out a chair for me. I could only guess at the meaning of his expression. He slid his chair closer to mine so that we sat opposite from our mysterious captor, the table serving as a buffer. He glanced at us without any concern, even seeming amused by it.
There were three white china plates on the table. Each was piled with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon grilled to a perfect crisp, country sausage, and crusty cracked wheat toast with plenty of soft butter. Baskets of fruit and muffins stood in the center of the table.
I could see cherries, mango, oranges, papaya, peaches, grapes on the vine (the kind I had discovered the night previous), and fresh pineapple. Glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice were in front of each plate, droplets of condensation forming deliciously on all of them. I took the cold glass in my hand and sipped it. It was amazing.
Michael started on his eggs hungrily, and so did I. The killer took a small bite out of his toast as he studied us. Then, just as abruptly as a punch in the stomach, he introduced himself. “My name is Kale. My last name is of no importance. I thought you ought to know.”
I stopped in mid-bite and put the fork down, staring. “I bet you could tell me my name,” I baited him in vain. I waited, too, in vain, but I had to surrender. “It’s Airel.” Michael mechanically introduced himself out of obligation. It was really awkward.
“I need to tell you something so that we do not have another night like the one that put you in convalescence for a week.” He was looking directly at me. Then his gaze shifted to Michael, and he continued.
“You cannot escape, so don’t try. If you do try, I will lock you away like a dog. If you stay on the property you will be free within its boundaries.” He took a sip from his glass of orange juice, then sighed. He acted as if he was being forced to do this. I wondered if he was like an employee for someone, a hit man for some multinational power broker.
I could not help but wonder how in the world I had ended up there. Kim would have said, “I told you so,” and reminded me that we should have gone to the cops. I was shocked at myself as I wondered if I was inside the machinery of one of those human trafficking organizations I had been hearing about.
I was so mad; I couldn’t believe we were all sitting at a table eating as if we were all old friends. But I couldn’t bring myself to hate Kale or even retain my anger. He acted natural and sure of himself, which disarmed me. He didn’t even seem to consider the fact that he would end up in prison for a very long time if he was caught kidnapping minors.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. I’ll know of any plans you make before you have a chance to execute them. I do not want to hold you in a cage like animals. I would rather you were free.” He paused, indicating that he was switching gears. “You are to attend to your schooling so as not to fall behind in your studies.” Michael groaned, and I sighed aloud.
“This makes no sense,” I said. “You kidnap us, and then you act like we’re here on a field trip? Now—why did you take us, and what do you want?”
“You will obey or suffer the consequences,” he said calmly. The calmness chilled me deeply, and I backed off, feeling with certainty that I was in over my head.
“Easy now, she didn’t mean anything by it,” Michael was trying to keep the peace. “She just wanted to know what you want—money?” Kale looked at him with what can only be described as hatred. I don’t think Michael noticed it; he just kept on talking in even tones. “My dad doesn’t have much. I don’t think hers does either.” Michael tensed, opening and closing his fists as if he was about to strike.