Milwaukee Deep

She sat silent in the dark on the cold, concrete floor.

Unable to move her arms and legs, Hillary Willow sobbed. Her wrists hurt; the handcuffs had started to cut into them. The gag in her mouth had dried out her throat, swallowing now was painful. Her eyes, earlier blinded by tears and the absence of light, had become accustomed to the dark. The only light piercing her gloom was coming from the crack in the door that sat up above her, at the top of the stairs. The door had only opened once since her time in the dungeon – he had come in and given her a glass of water.

She couldn’t remember when that was now, the days and nights were one big blur – she had lost track of the time spent in that basement.

The door creaked. She didn’t look up to see the dark form with the bright light behind it.

She could hear his weight falling on each stair as he laboured his way to the concrete.

Hillary Willow tensed.

“Brought you another glass,” he offered, his voice crisp - she hadn’t heard anything for days.

Hillary closed her eyes as he reached forward to pull off the black tape that covered her mouth. She spat out the cloth.

“Here, drink.”

Most of the water spilled down her chin as she gulped at her drink, thankful at least for relief from the dryness.

Once she had finished, he moved towards her to put the cloth back into her mouth.

Hillary flinched, her head turning instinctively.

“Now don’t make me hurt you.”

She turned back towards him, his beady little eyes staring into hers, his teeth black and rotten. She opened her mouth slightly, submitting only as much as she had to.

The dirty cloth was shoved back in, the sound of the tape tearing from the roll deafening.

The tape was fastened over her mouth.

“That ought to hold you.”

He stood up. She could hear the creaking as he attacked the stairs. She heard the door slam shut.

Darkness again consumed the room.

Special Agent Anthony Perks made his way over to Robert Myles, who stood within the restricted police perimeter in Central Park – a five hundred yard boundary surrounding the spot where Hillary Willow’s shoe was found.

It was just after 10:00am, the mist that sat as a blanket over the park for the better part of the morning had finally lifted.

“I got here as fast as I could – what have you got for me?” he asked

“As you know, we’ve been testing a fair number of items found in the park bins over the past few days. Well we caught a break this morning. We found a cloth that has traces of chloroform on it,” Myles informed him.

“Do we know which bin it was found in?”

“Yes, we’re sifting through its remains right now.”

“Okay, good work. Is the cloth still with forensics?” asked Perks

“Yes. They’re analysing it now for finger prints,” said Myles.

“Good work, Robert. Keep scanning the park – see if we find anything else.”

Before Myles could reply, Perks’ cell phone rang.

“Agent Perks,” he said by way of identification.

“Sir.”

He paused as the questions began to roll in.

“Yes that’s right a cloth. No, Sir. They’re running for fingerprints as we speak. It was covered in chloroform, Sir. Yes, we’re aware of that. Well, you’re more than welcome to come down here and I’ll walk you through the process myself. Okay, I’ll see you then,” Perks snapped shut his cell phone.

“Was that Defence Secretary Willow?” asked Myles.

“Yes,” replied Perks, “he’ll be here within the hour.”

Sam sat in the back of the yellow cab on the way to the airport. He checked his watch again – the third time in the last few minutes – the taxi crawling at a snail’s pace along the Van Wyck Expressway.

“I think there’s an accident up ahead,” the cab driver informed Sam who leaned forward to see if he could figure out what was going on.

Sam’s cell phone rang just as he was about to respond to the driver.

“Sam Crease,” he called out.

Anthony Perks was on the other end of the line.

“Anthony, how are you?”

The taxi started to move.

“You got my message? ...Yeah, I’m hoping it’s a day trip. I should be back in the office tomorrow morning.”

The cab driver leaned on his horn as a vehicle in front crossed lanes without notice.

“Any news on the Willow case?”

Sam nodded as he listened intently to his superior explain the morning’s events.

“Well I’ll be back within a day. As soon as I get in I’ll call to see what I can do to assist.”

The cab again came to a sudden stop.

“Sure. And if you need me before that don’t hesitate to ring...I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck.”

Sam checked his watch again. If he was lucky it was only another four and a half hours before he would land in Florida.

Resigned to sitting in the back of the stationary cab Sam pulled out the file from his briefcase and opened it in his lap.

A single photo of Michael Burton stapled to the top let corner of the folder stared back at him.

“Where the hell have you been all these years, Michael?”