When Carabella Went Missing

By Tammy Nolan

When Carabella Karstedt disappears from her home, leaving nothing behind but a trail of blood, law enforcement charges her husband, Obi, with her murder. Near death, Carabella must outwit the man who attacked and abducted her before he decides she is no longer of any use to him alive. When she regains consciousness at Tom's house, she has no memory of who she is, and she is initially paralyzed. She is left with nothing but her instincts, determination, and the devotion of a dog to give her the physical and mental strength she needs to heal and escape her prison.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Jun 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645364665

Tammy Nolan

Tammy Nolan is a Kentucky native who studied writing at the University of Kentucky. She resides on a horse farm in Virginia. Tammy has been a long-time fan of mystery, suspense, and horror books. For more than 15 years, she has made a living as a copywriter and a ghostwriter. She is now pursuing her writing interests in the suspense and horror genres with her first published novel, When Carabella Went Missing.

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About The Author

Tammy Nolan is a Kentucky native who studied writing at the University of Kentucky. She resides on a horse farm in Virginia. Tammy has been a long-time fan of mystery, suspense, and horror books. For more than 15 years, she has made a living as a copywriter and a ghostwriter. She is now pursuing her writing interests in the suspense and horror genres with her first published novel, When Carabella Went Missing.

Copyright Information ©

Tammy Nolan (2020)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Nolan, Tammy

When Carabella Went Missing

ISBN 9781641827164 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781641827171 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645364665 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020905033

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Chapter 1

Carabella normally enjoyed the short walk to the barn, but she was glad to have the truck to get her there and back to the house today. The cuts on the bottom of her feet throbbed and sent a new jolt of pain each time she put her weight on them.

She parked close to the front entrance, carefully stepped out, and unlatched the two gates that led inside. Now that the intrusive rain had stopped, there was ample light shining in through the front and back entrance and into the brief openings over the stalls so that she didn’t need to turn on the overhead lights to find her way around inside. She walked slowly down the hallway to the enclosed feed room in the middle of the structure.

The sunlight fell short here, the walls and door leaving the feed room in total darkness, regardless of the time of day or weather. She instinctively reached around the doorway to find the light switch. It was a ritual she had performed thousands of times before.

The horses nickered, protesting her late arrival in the only way they knew how. Now that they sensed their feed was within reach, each became impatient to have his or her turn. Feeding was normally a simple job that Carabella enjoyed as a way to get her day started. Of course, ‘normally’ she could walk freely and keep her mind on her business.

She used the large scoop to reach into the grain bin on the far side of the feed room, knowing instinctively how much to measure out for each horse. Today, she decided to use both buckets to carry feed, instead of just one like she normally did, cutting the number of trips she would have to make nearly into half. The less she had to walk, the better.

She didn’t feed the horses from one end of the barn to the other or in sequence, but according to which one was most likely to get rowdy first if it was made to wait. Like people, each horse had its own personality and some of them were much more demanding than others. The last horse to get his grain was Jasper, the big stud at the far end of the barn.

Studs were known for being more aggressive and Jasper’s large size made him appear even more intimidating when people saw him for the first time. But looks could be deceiving in animals as well as with people. The horse was actually a ‘gentle giant’ that enjoyed a little scratch behind the ears from whoever was willing to provide it.

Jasper was just a nickname. Carabella couldn’t even remember what the name was that the horse was registered under, or even where they had gotten the nickname. Nicknaming was practically a tradition in the area and, at least on this farm, it was one that carried over to the animals.

Most people would have expected her to have a nickname, especially with the long and tedious name that her parents had chosen to bestow upon her, but that was not the case. Her father had always told her to call people by their rightful name as a matter of respect. That lesson had stuck with her over the years, and only in cases where people made it perfectly clear that they preferred a nickname to their actual name had she given in. It was also a courtesy that she insisted on for herself.

Jasper nickered quietly as Carabella entered his stall, not as demanding as the other horses. More often than not, the big horse preferred to eat his hay before indulging in the grain. He might pick at the sweet feed until he had his hay but quickly deserted it once the forage had been placed in the hayrack.

Hey, Jasper. How are you doing today? He nodded his head, almost as though responding to her question with an, affirmative, everything is good. She poured the feed into the corner feeder, reassuring him that she would be right back with his hay.

Once all the horses had their grain, she returned to the hay room to start the second part of the job. She had hoped that this room would be filled with hay by the end of the day but the rain had brought that plan to a halt once again. Right now, there was a lot of empty space.

She took out her pocketknife and walked to the bale of hay that was closest to her. She cut the grass string that held the blocks of hay together and took enough to feed two of the horses, just as she had done with the grain. She was more concerned about the possibility of making her feet start bleeding again than she was about the pain.

She turned, holding the hay against her body, the knife still in her right hand as she fumbled to try and close it without laying down the hay.

The sight of the man standing in the doorway brought her to a dead stop. She managed to hold onto the hay but realized she had dropped the knife when she heard it ring as the metal hit the concrete floor.

He was a stranger. She was sure she would have remembered if she had ever met him before.

He seemed to bring with him a change in the atmosphere, tainting the very air that surrounded them. Although it had stopped raining some time ago, he was soaked from head to toe, as though he had been outside for some time, waiting and watching.

He was every bit of six-and-a-half feet tall, giving him an unsettling appearance in spite of his round baby face. It was those cold dark eyes that added harshness to the soft features of his face.

The blue jeans and brown plaid shirt he wore provided only adequate coverage of the large frame, sticking close to his body and leaving no room for growth.

He stood there without expression or sound, giving her all the time she wanted to size him up. It wasn’t unusual to have people drop by to ‘see the horses’ or just to have a friendly chat. Carabella knew that he wasn’t there to do either.

She tried to tell herself that he had caught her off-guard and her imagination was running wild because of the surprise and the man’s unusually large size.

He’s a freakin’ giant, the voice inside her head confirmed. But she knew it was more than his size that had triggered the alarm bells in her head. She sensed that this was one giant who lacked the gentleness Jasper had always shown.

Carabella stood frozen in place, her thoughts racing as she tried to figure out who this man was and what he might be doing here. She struggled to convince herself that there was nothing to be afraid of; he was probably just here to see Obi about something. But no explanation that she came up with would subdue the panic she was beginning to feel.

She didn’t know this man, didn’t remember ever seeing him before. He wasn’t a neighbor and it didn’t make sense for him to be here. She hadn’t heard a vehicle drive up and she thought from his soaked appearance that maybe he had already been nearby when she had first come into the barn.

Something didn’t ‘feel’ right. She wanted to run but there was nowhere to go. This intruder was between her and the only way out of the barn.

She was immediately on edge because of the way he had come up behind her and he still hadn’t said a word. Someone needed to break the silence. Carabella didn’t even realize she had planned to say anything until she heard the words come out of her mouth.

Can I help you with something?

He still didn’t answer, at least not immediately. His eyes followed her up and down, as though he was now taking his turn at sizing her up. Finally, he brought his eyes up level with hers.

I came to collect on a debt from Obi.

His voice had not been what she had expected, although she wasn’t sure exactly what that was. It was smooth, almost soft. More importantly, she now realized that he knew Obi. If he was here for money, she should be able to handle the situation and send him on his way.

What kind of debt, Mr…?

He seemed to mull this over for a minute, during which time Carabella felt compelled to take a step back and put some distance between them. At the same time, something was telling her not to do anything that might get a reaction from this man.

Obi took something from me a long time ago. He ain’t always had what he needed to pay me back, but now he has.

In spite of her hope that things were going to go in a better direction now, Carabella felt chill bumps creeping up her arms. The alarms in her head grew louder, warning her not to ask too many questions. But she wasn’t really in a position to do much else. She needed to find a way to get out.

Obi is up at the house. I’ll go back up and get him so he can…

He stood between her and the doorway to the stall and it didn’t look like he had any intention of moving. When the corners of his mouth moved into a half-grin, her heart began to sink.

Obi went out of here hours ago. Looked like he was running a little late this morning. I can just imagine what it was that kept him. His gaze dropped once again, looking Carabella over as though she were a heifer, he was bidding on at the stock barn.

No, he didn’t go to work. He took the day off to put up hay. He just went to the neighbor’s to let them know that they didn’t need to come over and help. You know, because of the rain. With that, she gestured upward, as though she needed to point out that it had been raining when he had obviously been standing out in it watching their movements for some time. He should be right back.

He looked doubtful for a second and then the half-smile crept back on his face. Maybe he is back at the house. I don’t believe so, but it don’t really matter. Fact is, I believe that might make it all the better. Him knowing he was that close and he didn’t do a thing to save his pretty little woman. I believe that’s what they call ‘poetic justice.’

So, there it is, she thought. No longer did she have the luxury of thinking she was just being paranoid or of believing that this was going to end well. She had no idea what this man felt Obi had taken from him, but she was beginning to get an idea of what he wanted for payment.

Carabella was an optimistic person. She believed there was always a way out of everything. All you had to do was make the right choice and things would turn out the way they were supposed to. The problem was, she wasn’t sure what that choice was; at least, not yet.

What is it you think Obi took from you?

That was the first time she had seen real anger on the stranger’s face and it came quickly.

HE TOOK MY WIFE!

Okay, that was a good place to start. She knew that Obi had had his fair share of girlfriends before she met him, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would move in on another man’s wife. Obi was a good-looking man who had strong, old-fashioned values. He didn’t go around stealing other men’s wives. This had to be a misunderstanding.

What is your wife’s name?

‘Was’ my wife’s name! Her name was Julie. I bet Obi never even mentioned her to you, did he? The son-of-a-bitch took her away from me and then he killed her!

Carabella had never been so confused or so desperate to get a grasp on a situation; but now that this stranger was talking, the situation was becoming increasingly surreal. She tried to force the memory of Obi having mentioned the name Julie from whatever recess it was buried in with the dying hope that it was going to make a difference in the outcome of this unexpected situation. If it was there, she couldn’t find it.

There was no reason to think this was not going to turn into a physical confrontation and she was no match for this brute of a man. At 5’5 and 112 pounds, Carabella was no contender against an average-sized man, much less this one who was every bit of 6’6 and 300 pounds.

If she had any hope of coming out the winner in a battle with him, it would have to be a battle of wits. She knew that her lack of understanding of what was really going on reduced her odds significantly. All she could do was try to get some answers that would help her talk her way out of this one.

I can’t believe that Obi would have taken your wife from you, much less that he would have hurt her. Obi would never deliberately do something to hurt anyone. It isn’t in his nature to…

Carabella didn’t see the blow coming. It was more of a slap across the face than a punch, but it knocked her backward and to the floor nonetheless. She had gotten closer to him when she had hoped to go to the house on the pretense to get Obi. He had covered the remaining distance between them in a single step, infuriated by her defense of the man he had obviously come to hate.

She heard the nickering of the horses and one of them kicked the wall, realizing that something out of the ordinary was taking place in their home. The sound drew his attention away from her for a couple of seconds. She spotted the knife on the floor beside her knee. She went for it, knowing that it was her only hope for a defense.

She grabbed the knife during the split second that he turned away and regained her footing before he turned his focus back to her. She expected him to either ignore the knife and lash out at her or maybe just laugh at her for thinking she stood a chance against him. What she didn’t expect was to see him clench both fists at his side with his eyes closed as though trying to regain composure that she wasn’t sure he had.

The pocketknife was small. She would need to get to his face or neck to do any damage.

When he opened his eyes, she knew the battle to compose himself had been lost. The fury was no longer limited to the abyss that was his eyes.

He stepped toward her, once again closing the space that he had created between him with the blow he had made to her face. He held his hand outstretched, following as she backed against the feed bin that stood behind her. When she no longer had room to retreat, he wrapped his big hand around her neck in a vise-like grip, cutting off her air with ease.

She brought the knife up, reaching desperately for his thick neck. Again, the difference in their sizes gave her the disadvantage. He didn’t even seem to realize that the knife was in her hand.

She tried to hit and kick him, refusing to give in to the futility of her blows against him as long as she still had breath in her. As he used his grip around her neck to guide her around the feed bin and against the wall that ran behind it, she was helpless to resist.

He pulled her back toward him, just enough to give him room to slam her head against the wall, manipulating her as easily as he might a rag doll. The pain was fast and intense. He slammed it again. On the third hit, the color began to wash out of everything around her, taking her into darkness before she could feel the pain of the fourth blow and the continued attack that he would inflict on her body.

Chapter 2

Obi pulled in front of the house at 6:15 p.m. He was disappointed when he saw that the little pickup wasn’t parked in front, meaning that Carabella wasn’t at home. He had thought about her a lot during the day, grungy as the work had been, and was looking forward to some quiet time just for the two of them.

He tried to keep a calm demeanor about things that he had no control over, but it was hard not to be frustrated by the weather. The rain had lasted just long enough to ruin his plans for getting the hay up and then the sun had come out with a vengeance, driving the temperature up into the low nineties. Coupled with the humidity and the hot, nasty work that he did for a living, it hadn’t made for comfortable working conditions.

Obi knew he was fortunate to have the job that he did. He needed the money from the job to support the farm and the horses that were his true passion. If they didn’t already have the roof on the new strip mall at the far end of town, the rain would have kept them from pouring concrete, too.

Sometimes trying to balance his job with his career and dodging the rain on both ends could be more than a little difficult. Carabella had a tenancy to worry about things more than he did. Just that morning, he had told her, It is what it is. We can only work with what we’ve got.

His words of wisdom had little effect on her. She knew how important it was to get the hay up once it had already been cut. Her natural clumsiness and determination to change what couldn’t be changed had led to a string of minor accidents and a generally big mess.

His time early that morning with Carabella had definitely been the better part of his day. He smiled, thinking again about how angry she had gotten at herself for breaking the cups and then walking through the broken glass before she thought better of it. She had a fiery temper, but it was usually short-lived and, more times than not, the anger was directed at herself and not anyone else.

He went inside and looked on the countertop where Carabella would normally leave a note if she wasn’t going to be home when he arrived. Nothing. Next, he checked the answering machine for messages. There was nothing there except for a couple of telemarketers whose messages he quickly erased.

Although it made them stand out as true oddities of the 21st Century, neither of them carried a cell phone. They had no desire to spend their time texting or talking to anyone. Other than Carabella’s mother, neither of them had any close family and she could always call her from home. Besides, there was no signal out here so the only time they would be useful was while he was working. With other trucks from the same pavement company on the same route, there was always somebody coming right behind you with their phone close by. If something went wrong, he could always relay a message through them.

He doubted Carabella would have gone to her mother’s unless her feet were feeling a lot better. Grace lived about 20 miles up the road and it was a pretty good walk from the closest parking spot to the house; about 5 minutes when you weren’t bandaged up.

Maybe she had decided to go to Dr. Guillian for her feet. She didn’t like to go to the doctor if she didn’t have to but the bleeding might have gotten worse. Or she could have hurt herself worse than had realized at the time. Obi had bandaged them carefully. But knowing Carabella, she had done everything she could to test his nursing abilities.

Wherever she had gone, he was sure she wouldn’t be long. The lack of a note and her condition dictated that much.

He decided to find something to eat and wait for her to get home. If she wasn’t there by the time he finished, he would start doing some calling around.

There wasn’t a lot to work with in the refrigerator. Although he was disappointed that his menu selection was slim, that did put his mind at ease somewhat about Carabella. She must have either gone to the grocery store or have driven to one of the few restaurants in town for takeout. Most likely it was the latter since she probably wasn’t up for pushing a cart around. He was too hungry to wait and see if his theory proved out right. After getting into work so late, he had pressed through what was left of the day without taking time to eat any lunch. Still, he would keep it to a minimum, in case he had a better choice in menu once she arrived.

It turned out that keeping it light wasn’t going to be difficult to do. After some effort, he came up with what he needed to make a grilled cheese sandwich and a can of chili. Not exactly a feast, but it would serve its purpose. Besides, anything more complicated and he wouldn’t know how to fix it. Obi considered himself a master at fixing grilled cheese but that was pretty much the limit to his culinary talents.

Once his sandwich was golden brown and the cheese melted to perfection, and the chili was heated, he poured himself a nice tall glass of cold milk and headed into the living room to catch some news on the TV. He went from channel to channel, only to find that the only difference was in the newscaster who was talking. Each was giving their own new spin on the same stories that had been headlining all week.

By the time he had covered the spectrum of stations twice, Obi had finished his food. Now, he felt more tired than ever. When he realized the sun was getting low and daylight was beginning to fade, he decided it was time to give Carabella’s mother a call.

It wasn’t until he heard Grace’s voice on the other end of the line that he began to think about how to go about questioning her without causing her to worry. He doubted anything was really wrong and he didn’t want to alarm her unnecessarily.

Hi Grace, it’s your favorite son-in-law.

Her voice instantly sounded perkier. Hello, Josh.

He laughed like he always did. Although Obi was