Reduced to Ruin

Chapter 39

Next sign said Topeka 40 miles. I knew from all of the news I had watched that Topeka was the closest big city just west of Kansas City. I drove so carefully, constantly monitoring the rear and side view mirrors and never going faster than the flow of traffic. Sixty-three miles per hour.

I got off on the first Topeka exit and pulled into a gas station. I put the SUV in park and realized just how cramped my hands were. I had gripped the steering wheel so hard for so long, my fingers hurt.

OK, Corrine, figure out this complex car, I thought as I looked at the fancy in-dash navigation system. My old car didn't have any advanced features like these new vehicles where the cars talk to you and give you accurate directions. But I figured out how to get to the menu, then select Transit, then bus station.

Fantastic. There was a bus station just two miles from where I was, so I told the navigation system to lead the way as I shakily followed its commands.

When the female voice told me I had reached my destination, I decided to drive past it and dump the car somewhere. About a quarter mile down the road, I located a strip mall with a 24-hour Wal-Mart and all night Taco Bell. Perfect. The parking lot was about half full with vehicles. I figured her car could sit there for at least a day before anyone might notice.

I quickly parked and changed my clothes. I had grabbed a pair of Sophia's jeans, a blouse, and jacket. I barely fit into her jeans, and they were way too long for me. So I rolled them up a few inches. That would have to do.

Shit. What would I do about my bloody shoes? In my haste, I hadn't thought to look for another pair of shoes. I looked in her glove compartment and found a Swiffer mop thing she must've used to wipe dust off the dashboard. Without any water or cleaner, I spit on my shoes and cleaned them up as best I could. At least they were a medium-toned brown and somewhat blended in with the disgusting blood.

My adrenaline suddenly pumped as the realization hit me I was about to leave the safe haven of the car and into unknown elements. People. People who could be B.F.O. people. But I told myself there's no turning back now. The only way to go was forward. If that meant my death, at least I tried.

I locked the SUV from within and slammed the driver's side door shut while buttoning up Sophia's warm jacket. I looked myself up and down. Not half bad, considering. Maybe that was because there was hardly any light in the parking lot. Regardless, the only way was forward. Onward.

That quarter mile walk felt like forever, even though it was probably about five minutes. And when I saw the bus station more closely, the neon sign seemed to welcome me with its bright, flashing colors. I slowed down my walking pace and tried to slow down my breathing. Be casual. Be cool. Be calm. Be free.

I opened the door and saw there were about seven or eight passengers inside. I made a bee-line to the bathroom to make sure I looked okay. Thank God I did because some blood had splattered on my neck, and I needed to wash my hands. I scrubbed and scrubbed, well past when there was no blood in sight. I scrubbed until my skin was its own raw red.

I looked in the mirror. OK, girl. Let's do this. Be strong.

I walked out of the bathroom and straight to the ticket booth.

"Hello, ma'am," said a young looking male employee, taking his eyes off of the TV screen the passengers were watching. "How may I help you this evening?"

"Hi. What time is the next bus into Kansas City leaving?"

"You're just in time. It leaves in about twenty minutes. Would you like a ticket?"

"Yes, please."

"Just one?"

He had a nice smile and seemed way too young to ever be involved in the messes of the B.F.O.

"Yes, please."

He printed my ticket, I gave him the money, and he handed me the change. I couldn't keep my hands from shaking, though, and he noticed as I picked up the change from the counter.

"Sorry. Too much coffee," I chuckled nervously.

"I can relate," he replied.

I plopped down in the farthest corner and looked back at him. He was back to watching his TV show, which I took as a good sign.

I looked around and watched as ordinary people were living their presumably ordinary lives. All I had left were Sophia's clothes on my back. And a ticket. A ticket to freedom.

I stared at my Kansas City ticket in awe. I had made it this far. I was determined to make it all the way.

*  *  *

Time seemed to go at warp speed once I arrived. I had a rough time, but the Kansas City police officers would end up being the best around—and with no B.F.O. members. Or at least not that I was aware of. I made sure I was never left alone with just one or two officers. It took hours to tell my story. Even days as they continued to ask me questions and trying to keep their shock in check. After all, nothing was ever supposed to shock them. I thought I'd be too fearful to tell about the B. F. O., but once I got to that part, it was as if I couldn't stop talking. And crying. And babbling. I must've looked crazy, but they didn't treat me that way.

In the days and weeks ahead, I was placed in a witness protection program. Corrine Whitman died that night in Dr. Manning's kitchen. Along with Sophia. Or so we hoped the B.F.O. would believe from the fabricated reports and news articles. The police reported to the news outlets that three bodies were located at the Manning residence, not two. My name was released, along with Sophia's and Dr. Manning's.

Seven months later, "Corrine" was a distant memory for me. I was now Shelly Mitchell who lived in West Virginia and constantly looked over her shoulder at the shadows behind her.

But my life, Corrine's life, meant something in the end. Because of her, the FBI was able to take down at least some of the B.F.O. and save forty-two victims of all ages from their captors all across the country. They even took down Detective Santini. But I knew forty-two victims wasn't everyone. After all, "the B.F.O. is everywhere." And the police were still investigating. Maybe they'd find even more victims, if they were lucky.

But that wasn't Shelly's problem. For now, watching the sunrise above the tree line was enough. Feeling the golden sun on her face was enough. Knowing today was another new beginning was enough. Hope. Love. Peace. It was all in Shelly's future. She closed her eyes and breathed in the cool, damp air.

This is enough, Shelly thought. Yes, this is enough.

Readers, I can't thank you enough for investing your time in Reduced to Ruin! This has been a novel in the making for over (clearing throat) 20 years since I was in college. It's had an age change for Corrine, four different beginnings, three different endings, and the amount of kidnappers has changed. I'd like to thank my beta reader, Jim Clark-Dawe, and friends and family who've taken the huge amount of time to read this piece. I am indebted to you all for your expertise, encouragement, and love. 

People sometimes ask me, "How did you come up with this idea?" as if something is off about me. ;) I have always been fascinated and appalled at how many people have been found or escaped from captivity, particularly long-term cases. Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Lee Dugard, Natascha Kampusch, the Ariel Castro (Ohio) kidnappings, Katie Beers, Colleen Stan, Steven Stayner, and so many others. Although the B.F.O. is purely fictional, I truly believe so many other victims are out there somewhere alive. Hopefully, we find them soon. 

I would love to hear from you of any feedback you'd like to give. I hope you enjoyed my first novel, and thank you again. <3 

If you would like to read my second novel, a young adult piece, or any of my future pieces, please follow me for updates! :)