Entrapments

By Ellen Williamson

Zoey Ryce never imagined she would encounter a serial rapist in a safe town in central Mississippi. She had escaped or outwitted all such encounters in New Orleans, her hometown. She dreamed of falling in love but not with a Christian who refuses to compromise his convictions for the love of an atheist. Logic fails her at the most crucial moment and leaves herentrapped.

When Evelyn Nichols has to change her spending habits of the past fifty years she is thrown into a panic with physical manifestations. Evelyn finds herselfentrapped.

A serial rapist customizes his van for his prowls about town looking for unsuspecting victims. He longs for love, but resorts to - a few minutes in the back of his van. His unmet passion leaves himentrapped.

Dr. Dub Sachzman struggles with whether to follow God's calling or marry a woman who captivates his heart, mind, and if hes not careful, his soul. Between wisdom and the heart, Dub isentrapped.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491861868

Ellen Williamson

Ellen Williamson is a passionate writer who strives to share the message of Christ in every imaginative and fascinating story she writes. From historical novels to mystery-thrillers, she keeps readers of all ages and interests riveted. Somewhere in every story, if you are interested, you will find your pathway to salvation. Ellen lives in Brandon, MS where she is a Sunday School teacher at Park Place Baptist Church. She is a talented artist who loves to work in acrylic and pencil. At her speaking engagements audiences are treated to a passionate, funny, and engaging message sure to inspire. For information on any of her books or to request her for an event, you may reach her at [phone], or [e-mail].

Book preview

© 2014 Ellen Williamson. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and names are products of the author’s imagination and do not represent actual people or events. Any resemblances to businesses, events, locations, companies or any person living or dead is strictly coincidental.

It is hoped that the story will serve as a warning to women of the insidious dangers lurking in parking lots and other public places.

The plight of Ernie and Evelyn is one that exists among today’s senior citizens. Many will identify with their problems.

The spiritual emphases at the end of the chapters were not meant to enhance the story but were added to offer a bit of spiritual encouragement or food for thought.

Cover design by Lori Weatherford

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/07/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4918-6187-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-6186-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Five

Fifty-Six

Fifty-Seven

Fifty-Eight

Fifty-Nine

Sixty

Sixty-One

Sixty-Two

Sixty-Three

Sixty-Four

Sixty-Five

Sixty-Six

Sixty-Seven

Sixty-Eight

Sixty-Nine

Seventy

Seventy-One

Seventy-Two

Seventy-Three

Seventy-Four

Seventy-Five

Seventy-Six

Seventy-Seven

Seventy-Eight

Seventy-Nine

Eighty

Eighty-One

Eighty-Two

Eighty-Three

Eighty-Four

Eighty-Five

Eighty-Six

Eighty-Seven

Eighty-Eight

Eighty-Nine

Ninety

Ninety-One

About The Author

ENTRAPMENTS

(en.trap.ments)

Ensnarement/entanglement

Things that hold you captive

The most important things in life,

aren’t things.

(copied)

ENTRAPMENTS

My master had a job for me

A work for me to do.

My goal was to obey Him

Determined to follow-through.

But Satan tried to hinder me

To keep me from the tasks.

So he helped me collect things,

And in their beauty bask.

Into my bosom, treasures

Took first place.

The glistening of the gold

Dimmed my master’s face.

Like the web of a spider

Wealth drew me in

Intricate bars of a prison

Too opaque to be seen.

So painful was the effort,

The effort to be free

’till I longed to go back,

Even to poverty.

So, I offer this advice,

Wisdom to you, my friend.

Beware the entrapments

Of things that take you in.

Ellen Williamson

2013

DEDICATION

Soli deo Gloria

(to God alone the glory)

(Quote of Johann Sebastian Bach)

To: My great-grandson, Jesse Wayne James who has a wonderful life ahead of him! He puts truth, honesty and integrity in all his dealings with his friends and family. I love you, Jesse.

To: All my family, friends and fans. Thank you a thousand times for all the encouragement and help you have given me. I wish I could put all your names here but it would be impossible. You know the things you have said and done and I appreciate them all. Thank you for buying my books.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to all my family and friends for their encouragement and support.

Thank you to Veronica Hamilton, Gloria Wilson, Helen Skinner and James Skinner for proof-reading, editing and critiquing. Especially to Lori Weatherford who spent hours editing and making corrections.

ONE

It was a plain, simple, nondescript, beige van, nothing on the outside - to call attention to it, to be admired or identified in any manner. It was not new but not so old that it would cause someone to speculate whether or not it was still mobile. It was a utility van having no windows in the back and only the two windows on the driver’s and passenger sides. They were tinted the darkest allowed by law.

Its evil intent was indiscernible. Sometimes, a magnetic sign hastily slapped on the driver’s door, declared it was from a florist in a small town in south Mississippi or at other times maybe a plumber or a lawn-care business in some distant town. The varied signs which displayed a non-existent telephone number were seldom used more than once.

When it made its way through traffic there was nothing that gave a clue to its souped-up engine, or to the specially designed interior – an interior which looked nothing like a van. The owner designed the inside to resemble a tent or a small room with delicate floral designs – décor which he changed from time to time. Should one wake up in his van in a groggy state they would never be able to tell they were in a van, but in some odd place the likes of which they had never seen - a very small room.

Clayton Lufkin never allowed anyone to see inside his van. It was his own private lair which he kept hidden away except for his special excursions. Tonight would be one of those times should he be lucky enough to find an appropriate victim. He smiled. I’m always successful in finding the right one - if I’m patient.

Thirty-four-year-old Clayton was a handsome man, and he knew it. He had even been listed once as one of Jackson’s most eligible bachelors. He was five feet nine inches, and muscular. He was what all the ladies called built and he stayed that way by working out on a regular basis. A stylist regularly kept his light brown hair styled and touched up any gray patches which popped up. His clothes were of the latest fashion and he kept them cleaned and pressed professionally.

His eyes were deep brown. For his prowling trips he wore bright blue contact lenses, a black wig and a fake chin with a deep cleft in the middle. He had gone to New York and had the piece made especially for him. He had the maker put in the slightest bit of fashionable hair on the chin giving him an unshaved look. The piece was easily attached with an adhesive and he concealed the edges with make-up.

Tonight Clayton circled the Mall, in and out of the parking lanes – observing, watching, waiting - confidently waiting. Someone would show up and she would let down her guard just long enough for him to make his move. He took deep breaths and exhaled slowly. Stupid, trusting women! Mothers really should warn their daughters about men like me.

He waited patiently as he chewed his Dentyne gum slowly, folding it over his tongue to make little air pockets then chewing firmly on it to make little snapping sounds. It had become such a habit that he was unaware of doing it - a little gesture which he could never teach the other kids in school. Chew, snap, chew, snap - often to the annoyance of people around him.

He loved the little sting of cinnamon on the tip of his tongue when he first bit into a fresh stick of red Dentyne. Chewing gum relaxed him, kept him calm; helped him concentrate. However, in social situations, a dinner, a business meeting, any social gathering, he was careful to refrain from gum chewing. His mother had taught him it was impolite to chew gum at a social event. He put forth great effort to make his behavior socially acceptable - and for the most part he succeeded. He was known in his circles as being a good guy, shy, an introvert, but harmless as a dove.

A cold, November wind whipped through the parking lot of the mall and flapped the coat-tails of shoppers dashing from their vehicles in and out of the mall. Unsuspecting girls with short skirts and long, stringy hair left their coats in their cars as they sprinted towards the doors of the mall. Their girlish giggles and preoccupation with their destination was a clue to Clayton that they were unsuspecting, not wary of the harm lurking inside the van.

49967.png

You need not fear insignificance

when you serve the Lord.

(copied)

TWO

A weary Evelyn Nichols sank down on the bench in the aisle of the shopping mall, covered her face with her trembling, wrinkled hands and cried from fatigue and frustration - mostly frustration. Her shoulders shook with every sob, which, with much effort, she was able to effectively muffle, but she could not muffle the Christmas sounds coming at her from every direction. In her state of mind they were annoying, irritating and at the moment very obnoxious, reminding her of her plight.

The tune of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer pounded in her left ear while the song, Jingle Bells jangled in her right. She was inundated by the sounds of Christmas, and not one of them even mentioned the Christ child.

The actual jingle of a bell came from Santa’s hand as he stood beside a red pot on a tripod at the entrance of the food court. He rang it constantly and Evelyn wondered how his arm could endure the constant movement. She wanted to scream, Stop! Please, just for one minute, Stop! She dramatically clamped her hands over her ears to muffle the sounds but if it helped at all, she could not tell it.

She squelched the urge to pull her hair and scream but she remembered the price she had paid earlier in the week for a haircut, styling and blond tinting. Even the price for that had increased tremendously in the past year. Her husband, Ernie, once suggested she cut back on that but the anxiety attack she had at the possibility of going gray frightened him so severely that he dared not mention it again. Now with all the noise around her she even considered it, but her anxiety increased at the thought.

She cried harder. She was disgusted with having to check the price of everything she bought, however it did remind her of all the money she wasted in the past buying any and everything that caught her eye. Things! Things! Unnecessary things! She had been caught up in the if I want it - buy it mode of spending. If she didn’t have the money, she simply put it on a credit card. She paid no attention when the interest rate went up-up-up. 18%, 21%, 24%, 26%, 28%, 29%.

She envied all these women rushing from store to store, lugging bulky packages filled with gifts for their families. I was once one of them. She envied and yet, felt sympathy for them. If they just knew the lesson she had learned about spending, charging, credit card debts and gifts she had showered on her ungrateful grandchildren.

She battled with this knowledge and the mistakes she had made, yet, she envied the chance to once again buy everything her family desired with no thought of price.

If anyone noticed a seventy-year-old woman in a stylish pant suit and an expensive leather jacket sobbing on the bench, they figured she needed her privacy and walked on by. Three giggling, teenage girls brushed against her and kept walking, an oops, sorry, their only apology. Her old self would have smiled and said, sure or no problem but today she scowled at them and muttered: Impertinent little brats.

Evelyn clenched her eyes tightly to shut out the blinking lights which dangled from every projectile in the mall and seemed to exacerbate the sharp, piercing pain behind her eyes. She could not, however, quench the mixed fragrances coming from the candle shop across from her. Cherry, apple blossom, pine and cedar fragrances stung her nose and stifled the sweet vanilla fragrance which she usually cherished. She sneezed, and then wiped her nose and eyes with a tissue. She thought of the frigid, odorless breeze outside and longed to go to it, and, she would, just as soon as she felt better.

Her husband’s words from the night before resounded inside her head. At the time he said them she didn’t take it too seriously and his proclamation seemed like more of a joke. Only two-hundred-dollars on Christmas presents this year! Remember, we’re on a budget. When he handed her two one-hundred-dollar bills, she grinned, winked at him and gave her solemn promise that she would not use a credit card. Now his ominous words took on a different meaning than they had the night before.

Since she retired, her shopping trips had become few and far between and the price increase of everything she looked at today was overwhelming. Gasoline over three dollars a gallon! It took at least a gallon of gas to run up to Wal-Mart or Kroger. Multiply that by two or three times a day for thirty days and it took a good chunk out of their Social Security check. No more hopping in the car and running down to the store every time she needed something. She had learned to improvise or do without until she was going that way.

Even Ernie had a problem adjusting to that new rule. When the gas gauge indicated that it was dangerously close to the little red E they occasionally even missed prayer meeting. That was far different from the days when gasoline was fifty cents a gallon or even ninety-nine cents and they were both working.

Evelyn was acutely aware of the increase in the price of groceries and the decrease in volume of the packages. She had even changed her menus and the places she shopped. Dollar Tree, Dollar General and Fred’s had helped tremendously but prices were increasing there as well.

The budget she and Ernie adopted when they retired no longer covered expenses and their Social Security increase did not even cover the increase in insurance premiums, to say nothing of the price of gasoline, utilities and food. Not to mention clothes, in which she no longer indulged. She was determined to wear the same ole’ things - for a while, at least. Her choice in the past of expensive, classic styles, rather than trendy fashions was now an advantage. So far she had managed to not worry about the economy, but today she was so upset she could not control her anxiety.

The excited squeal of children playing chase behind her and the one crying loudly in a stroller in front of her made her head ache worse. I must get out of here! She fumbled in her purse for a dry tissue, then blew her nose, dried her eyes and looked around frantically for a place to escape. She gasped for breath. The car is on the opposite end of the mall. I CANNOT make it that far!

The welcoming sign indicating the rest rooms caught her eye so she hastily picked up her two small packages and raced in that direction. She practically brushed the arm of the bell-ringing Santa and scowled at him when he seemed to scream at her, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Her usual cheerful, pleasant personality faded away in the wake of the bah humbug attitude that raced through her head and made her heart pound.

The long, narrow passage to the rest room became quieter the further Evelyn went but the sound of her racing heart and gasps for breath sounded louder in her ears than Santa’s ho, ho, ho’s which echoed down the cavernous hallway.

I can’t breathe! My chest hurts! I’m having a heart attack!" She stumbled down the narrow hall to the restroom and put her full weight on the door.

49970.png

There is a peace that can be found

only in listening to the quiet of God’s love.

(copied)

THREE

Unaware of the van parked two spaces away Zoey Ryce switched the ignition key off with a snap and flung the car door open with one swift jerk. She snatched off her heavy, jacket, threw it on the back seat and then slammed the car door. It trembled on four well-worn tires. The cold, air felt good to her flushed cheeks and the burning sensation in her eyes. A fast, brisk walk through the mall was just what she needed to work off her anger, which felt red hot in the back of her throat. Some girls would call it an urge to cry but she seldom ever cried.

She was tough! At least that is what she told herself. She was short and slender, lithe but muscular, staying fit for her own preservation and defense, which she considered a necessity, having been brought up in the city of New Orleans. She wore her long, auburn hair straight or pulled back in a ponytail or a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her attitude was one of self-reliance, determination and self-preservation. She considered herself stoic and her male friends described her as earthy, unpretentious. She was thirty-years old and, by golly, she didn’t have to have the help of anyone, especially a conceited, full-of-himself doctor who claimed he was in love with her!

A re-play of their early-morning conversation played over in her thoughts making her crazy as she stepped out of her car. Her temples pounded with anger and frustration making her oblivious to her surroundings. She was not quite ready to admit that her feelings were hurt. That would come later.

She would graduate from nursing school in two weeks and she was settling in for a career she loved and making plans for a future life. She and Dub (short for W, the initial of his first name, which happened to be Wellingsly), had been dating for three years and he was finishing up his Internship at the Medical Center. He would be a Pediatrician and already had two offers from doctors with established practices, to be a partner.

Zoey and Dub had made verbal life-time commitments and she had hinted that the two of them move in together to save money on rent and utilities. Their combined tuition and college expenses had reached an exorbitant amount, in spite of grants, and they both were concerned about their ability to make the payments and still live a reasonably comfortable lifestyle.

Dub, however had balked at the idea of living together, saying that it was against his principles. At the time, she thought it was an admirable trait but now his holier-than-thou attitudes had really gotten to her.

She expected a marriage proposal, (or rather a specific date for the wedding), and had made it clear that morning after breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. It had all come to a head over a discussion about graduation and the most desirable community in which to live. The scene rattled around in her tired, angry mind and she relived it on her way to the door of the mall.

49972.png

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart;

And lean not, unto thine

own understanding.

In all thy ways acknowledge him,

and he shall direct thy paths.

Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)

FOUR

As usual, she and Dub met in the cafeteria of the Medical Center before clocking in to begin work. Dub took a sip of his coffee with a noisy deliberate slurp and let out an audible a-a-h and smacked his lips loudly. (Followed by a big mischievous, boyish grin.)

Dub! Zoey said as she slapped his arm and looked around to see if anyone heard. How rude!

He laughed. I know. Excuse me. It’s just that with an end to my schooling and residency I feel like a million bucks. I feel like abandoning all social decorum, jumping up on this table and shouting to the top of my voice. ‘Look at me! I am Doctor Wellingsly Wallace Sachzman! You can call me Doctor Dub! He made a move as if he were going to carry out his urge. A fellow intern gave him a thumbs up as he passed by their table.

Don’t you dare! Zoey couldn’t help but laugh at his jubilation. She threw her head back as she laughed aloud and with one hand flipped her long, auburn hair over her shoulder. They were both exhilarated and excited about their upcoming graduation. Their future looked bright, promising financial security and at last their long-awaited wedding.

She leaned across the table to whisper to him. You know, I feel like doing the same. She giggled like a school-girl and did not bother to squelch the shrill of her laughter.

Let’s do it! He said and pushed back his chair as if that were his intention. Childhood mischievousness twinkled in his eyes.

She grabbed him by the arm to prevent it, just in case he was not teasing. She recalled a time when, as a teenager, she and a friend danced on a table because of a dare. She tugged him toward the door.

We have a few minutes before time to start to work. Let’s go out front and get some fresh air.

Deep breaths of fresh air were always welcome and (they considered) vital to their health before entering a germ-laden hospital ward.

When they stepped through the double doors, the cold, brisk wind tousled her long hair, swishing it in her face. She pushed it away from her face, took a rubber band from her pocket and pulled it back into a ponytail.

Dub put a long gangly arm around her slender shoulders and squeezed her to him. I love you Miss Zoey, Ryce, Registered Nurse. He emphasized Registered Nurse with a definite prideful tone. She put one arm around his narrow waist and squeezed as they headed for the concrete benches near the front entrance of the hospital.

Wellingsly Wallace Sachzman was five-feet-ten-inches tall and had allowed himself to become less than physically fit during his schooling and grueling work schedule. One of his goals upon graduation was to join a local gym and work on his long-neglected physique.

His deep brown eyes held a studious gaze behind small, round glasses, but they crinkled at the corners when he smiled. At thirty-two, his blond hair was thinning but he kept it at a length which often sprouted over his ears and around the edges of his surgical cap. The dimple in his left cheek, which deepened when he smiled, had been the main factor which made the girls label him as cute. Long nights studying had banished much of his cuteness but he was still attractive behind the mask and cap.

His father, Oscar Sachzman had married a missionary’s daughter while she and her family were living in Scotland. They eventually moved to Memphis, Tennessee where he was a science teacher. Oscar was a strong Christian, active in the Baptist church and raised his five boys to be the same. Dub followed closely in his father’s footsteps, equally committed to Christ and Christian values.

Zoey, on the other hand was an only child of divorced parents and was raised in New Orleans by her mother, Angeline Durban Ryce who worked long hours as a waitress on Bourbon Street. She still worked there despite a desire to retire.

If it had not been for Zoey’s high I.Q. and indomitable determination she would have succumbed to the wiles and temptations of the society of Bourbon Street and the quick money found in the bars of New Orleans. If there had been any religion inbred in her at all it was from Voodoo and Witchcraft, which was so prevalent in New Orleans.

Zoey had often tagged along with her mother, clinging to her shirt-tail or holding on to her shoulder bag as she pilfered through the Voodoo items at Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo in the French Quarter. Marie Laveau had been the Queen of Voodoo and a priestess in the 1830’s in New Orleans. She was famous for her blessings and curses, although some said that she did more blessings than curses. Superstition continued to be prevalent in New Orleans although education had minimized it considerably.

Angeline insisted she did not believe in all that mumbo-jumbo but she had her own little gris-gris bag filled with all sorts of good-luck charms, which she kept tucked down in the corner of her huge hand bag. She claimed she did not really believe they possessed any powers but kept it just in case I need it for protection or good luck. Angeline was tall and very slender with dark eyes and short black - or brown - or red hair, depending on what week it was. She was somewhat emaciated from working long hours in the bars of Bourbon Street. Her face was thin and deep wrinkles were etched around her mouth and lips from smoking. Crow’s feet spread out from the corners of her eyes.

She kept her collection of voodoo dolls lined up on a shelf in the living room. One had Zoey’s name on it. Contrary to what some have been led to believe they were also used for blessings and not just for curses by sticking pins in them. Many believe that a skillful Voodoo believer can bless the doll that represents a person and it will bring them wealth, love or heal their illnesses.