By: Brandon James Scott Scholl
Michael leaned up against the kitchen counter, waiting for the phone to ring. The man’s wife had been missing for close to 48 hours and they knew the kidnapper was going to call soon.
The family had called in Michael for his expertise with personality. He was able to profile people and read them on the spot to tell what kind of person they were, what triggers they had, and what ways things could be said or done to them to get specific results.
As Michael watched the family and friends that were surrounding the victim’s husband, the phone rang. He quickly pushed himself off of the kitchen counter and moved towards the phone in the living room where everyone else was. Michael picked it up and answered it.
“Hello,” Michael calmly said into the phone. He heard silence on the other end of the call for a few seconds, then there were two gun shots followed by a woman’s voice.
“I’ve just killed Mrs. Perkins,” the kidnapper said with a woman’s voice.
Michael took a moment to collect his thoughts and surveyed the people in the room who could also hear the conversation.
“I’ll let them know what just happened,” Michael commented.
“Next, I’m going to come after her husband. I’m going to kill him the same way I killed his wife. First I’ll torture him, then I’ll kill him.”
“Okay,” Michael replied calmly.
“Then, I’m going to kill that couple that they’re such good friends with. I’ll take both of them and burn them into ash.”
“Okay,” he continued to reply.
“Then, the only place that’ll be left for you to hide or for anyone to be safe is at Alan’s house.” Michael looked to the last guest that was there for Mr. Perkins. Alan was a middle aged man who had a wife and two kids across town. His look back at Michael was a mixture of both fear and panic.
“Look,” Michael answered, “Are you going to continue to make threats and monologue like a comic book villain or are you going to actually tell me where Mrs. Perkins is. I know you didn’t kill her because you don’t have the stomach OR the guts to do it. So let’s cut the crap and you tell me where she is.”
Silence overtook the phone conversation. People in the room looked around at one another and then at Michael like he was crazy. They believed he was crazy and going to be the death of them. Then, the kidnapper answered with a severe stutter.
“You… bbbbettered take mmmmmmmmme seriousssssssssssly. Mrs. PPPPPerkins is DDDDDDDDead. AAllllllll of yyyyyyyyyou are nnnnnnnnnext.” Then, the kidnapper hung up.
Michael put the phone down and looked at the astonished stares that were coming from everyone in the room. He smiled and walked over to Mr. Perkins who had tears slowly moving down his face.
“Mr. Perkins, she’s alive. The kidnapper wouldn’t have called if they actually killed her because he’d have no leverage or any reason to come after you. He’s here to make you feel pain in any way he can.” Michael stood up and then continued.
“The woman we’re dealing with is someone who’s very rarely taken seriously. Usually the type of person that would sit in the background and never do anything dangerous for fear of being caught or screwing up when they were a child. She also has a low self-esteem and is trying to cope with scaring everyone else to make her feel she has control. Alan, I would suggest calling your home. Make sure your family is okay. If they answer, tell them to leave. If they don’t answer, tell call the police and meet them there.”
Michael walked over to the counter where he had been leaning and grabbed his gun then put it into the holster. He walked back through the kitchen and then the living room towards the door.
“Wait, what now,” Mr. Perkins asked.
Michael stood in the doorway and turned around.
“Now, I go save your wife and be the hero,” Michael said with a reassuring smile before closing the front door behind him. He opened his car door and got inside. He pulled out his cell phone and called his tech support.
“Miracle worker here, what kind of magic would you like?”
“Marie, I need something to go on here. Did you get a chance to trace the call?”
“You bet your ass I did. I narrowed it down to an old industrial complex across town.”
“Thanks Marie, good work.”
“Michael, how’d you know that she has a stutter?” Michael sat there for a moment, fumbling with his keys.
“I didn’t. I got lucky there.” With that, he hung up his phone and pulled out onto the road. He was going to take this kidnapper down.
