Three Mill or So

By Sandra Prinzing

Trish Kelly Adams is a tough, stubborn daughter of Irish farmers in northern Minnesota. She loses her mother young and nursed her father till death, with the help of an American Indian couple who were farming partners of her parents. Growing up near a reservation and eventually living with the Lakota couple, she learns what it means to belong to a family. Being hardworking and doing things for others became a way of life. Trish spent college years in Minneapolis for trauma-nurse training. All that training was needed so she could handle what life was going to throw at her.

Mourning her best friend’s death, Trish takes on her friend’ family; it doesn’t go well. Little did she know she would deal with alcoholism, drug addiction, PTSD, ailing parents, kidnapping, death threats, and being in protective custody that felt more like captivity. Will life ever get easy for her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781546262145

Sandra Prinzing

Sandra Prinzing was born the eleventh of fourteen children on a farm in south central Minnesota. From a young age, she daydreamed. Stories played out in her imagination. Sandra finished school and married young. She attended Inver Hills Community College and Mankato State majoring in Psychology. Sandra and Ron had two children and foster children. While working as Secretary/bookkeeper for her son’s company, she went back to college majoring in Business Management. The long marriage to a musician/history buff and a long career in health care has offered her many experiences that further fueled her imagination. To tease her orthodontist, she wrote about her personal experience of wearing braces as an adult. Working with several environmental groups, she was mentioned as a contributor to a pamphlet on Reforestation of Minnesota. Currently living among the pines in northern Minnesota has offered fodder for this book. And hopefully many more to come.

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Copyright © 2019 Sandra Prinzing. All rights reserved.

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 07/15/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5462-6216-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-6215-2 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-6214-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018911616

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

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

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

For all my readers:

Thanks to:

Chapter 1

Trish woke, it was dark She struggled to sit up, her body was feeling stiff and sore pushing against the floor she realized it was a hardwood floor under her hand. Listening… three distinct breathing or snoring sounds were coming from in front of her. Trish shook her head to get the sleepy fog out of her brain. As her mind cleared of sleep, fear crept in. Where am I, she wondered.

A pillow, a small soft sleeping bag and a rougher blanket was there. Feeling behind and beside her was a corner, high mopboards and wallpapered walls. Reaching out low in front of her was the leg of an upholstered piece of furniture. She sensed two things in the air near her face that smelt of feet.

Someone snorted in their sleep. Freezing in motion for a few seconds, she listened for movement. Slowly she leaned back pulling her knees up to her chin and waited.

The only light in the room came from the clock on the technical equipment at the other end of the room. Trying to remember where she was, she realized her head hurt. Raising her left arm to touch her blood matted hair she, also, felt the stiff ache in her rib cage and left breast. She was waking up to reality now.

And she wasn’t anywhere near home. Where was she? Where is this house? In town, in the country… how do I get home from here if I do get out? During the early morning hours, while rubbing the ache in her wrists and ankles left by the zip ties, the memories slowly came.

The three men keeping her in the corner were waking up as light began to filter into the room. One went to the kitchen and started frying bacon and eggs. The young one with the stinky feet, woke like an old dog, walking toward the kitchen, pausing to scratch his ribs and yawn. The toothless one snored away, on the couch in front of Trish. Taking a chance they wouldn’t see her, with one of the crayons she had found, she marked the second day-Monday on the wall next to her name, birthdate and a statement that she was kidnapped and the date and time it happened..

As the brightness of the rising sun leaked through the cracks around the drapes on the window beside her, Trish took stock of where she was. Two old couches lined the front and back walls of a long narrow livingroom. Her spot was roughly three by twelve feet behind the couch ends, an end table and the back of an overstuffed chair.

The kid came back and woke toothless. Then asked Trish to slide out behind Toothless’s couch and he would let her use the bathroom. Yesterday they ran out of zip ties, when they tried to take them off and retie her hands every time she used the bathroom. No food yesterday. This morning, they offered her one cold strip of bacon and a half a cup of cold scrambled eggs.

Why am I here?

No answer from the quiet one. The toothless one was stinking up the bathroom and the kid was in the kitchen looking for food again.

What are you going to do with me?

I don’t know.

Will you tell me when you know?

Probably not, then the kid came back and they all basically ignored her.

Other than when they picked her up and threw her in the van, and moved her from the van to the house, they really hadn’t paid much attention to her so far. What did they want from her? Her Ex had no money to pay ransom. The Indians…everyone knew people living on the reservation was not a way get rich. Her folks were dead. Maria left her no money to care for Angelia. Trish hoped Angelia; her adopted daughter would go to her Grandparents and not stay alone in their house while Trish was here, where ever she was.

They would find her SUV, purse and keys at Wal-Mart. There were people at work, at home, at the farm, the Reservation and her friends all looking for her, she was sure. She was missing twenty-four hours now. Barry and Joy Walker, the EMT’s would get Police Chief Ned and the troops out. Her friends would wonder where she was. Chief and the boys would check the farm. Matt and Tom Whitefeather and others would search the Res. They’ll come for me. Someone will figure it out. I just have to wait… and pray, she told herself.

The times Trish was escorted to the bathroom, she peered toward the kitchen and saw she would have to maneuver around the table and chairs to get out the back door. The short hallway had five doorways. Two on either side of the bathroom were locked with paddle locks. What or who was locked up in there she wondered? The bathroom had a small window, too small to crawl out of, above the claw foot tub. The tub was fairly clean, except for the rust stain near the drain. Water dripped slowly from the tarnished faucet, creating a plopping sound with each drop of water. There was a dirty old toilet. A porcelain sink with a silver toothbrush holder below an empty medicine cabinet with a foggy mirror. Not a place you would want to stay long.

Trish tried to stay on the clean path worn in the dirty floor from the door to the urine stained toilet to the sink and back out the door. One of the five doorways led back to the livingroom, the other to the kitchen. The front door had a couch in front of it; usually with the big guy laying on it. Not a viable option for an escape either.

The kid shared the other couch with the toothless one or slouched on the big overstuffed chair with its back to Trish. They didn’t use their proper names; instead it was Dude, Kid or Stupid.

The Kid was watching TV, sitting in the stuffed chair. The quiet one was making supper and the toothless one was on the porch talking on the phone. Trish wondered if the Kid would tell her what was going on.

Why did you kidnap me?

Huh?

I asked why you guys kidnapped me.

I don’t want to talk about it, then he increased the volume on the remote.

They must have intentionally closed off the windows and front door with heavy drapes and furniture. The placement of the furniture and semi darkness created a theatre effect. On the wall sandwiched between the kitchen and hall doorways was an entertainment center held up with cement blocks. A big screen TV and several other technical appliances lit up the room most of the time. Video game cases were haphazardly spilling off the shelves provided the decor’s finishing touch.

Her area must have been designed for a child’s play room with a narrow outlet behind the couch on the interior wall. The play area was where Trish was told to stay. At first her hands were tied, but after several trips to the bathroom in the first twenty-four hours, they just gave up and escorted her to the bathroom.

The little girl left behind some girly things, such as a pink Princess sleeping bag, a dark blanket, several old pillows and a doll with a neat pile of outfits. Coloring books, Princess tablets, pink girly pencils, crayons and a green Ninja Turtle backpack all had their place along the wall, nice and neat. That was until Trish got there and searched for something to use as a weapon. But there was nothing…

The coffee table between the couches was strewn with beer cans and over- flowing ashtrays. She took a deep breath but the smell of the old unkempt house with its stale cigarette smoke, dooby butts and old cooking grease filled her nostrils. It made her nauseous; along with being overly hungry. Then combine that with a growing fear. As the days worn on and no explanation as to why she was held here, Trish grew more and more afraid.

At first thinking it was a joke on her, she didn’t get too worried. But as the time of being held here increased so did the fear. Why? Why me? Money…how would they know I just won the lottery? I don’t even have the money in the bank yet…

They gave her several bottles of warm water, mainly just so they wouldn’t be bothered to get up if she wanted a drink. The Kid offered her beer once at the toothless ones insistence. The big quiet guy told them to Knock it off.

The men ate twice a day, a big breakfast of eggs and sausage or bacon in the kitchen around 10:00 a.m. Around 6 p.m. a supper off the coffee table usually of quick foods like pizza rolls, frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, French fries and tator tots. It was usually when they ate supper that they thought to share with Trish. It wasn’t much and usually cold, even so Trish was thankful.

Trish used what she had of the little girls to make herself comfortable sitting and sleeping on the floor. And for exercise she paced the twelve foot length of the area she was kept in. She watched the men sleep in shifts. If Trish had to use the bathroom they followed her like a shadow to and from. She didn’t know if it helped or hurt her situation, but she always said Please and Thank you.

Trish never saw anyone else ever come to the house. She heard their phones ring once in a while. When this happened, she noticed they must have walked to the porch or outside to talk. Trish could hear the doors close and someone talking, but couldn’t make out what was being said.

They watched TV and played video games most of the time. If the van left, it was the big quiet one and the Kid. That was only twice to get more food and/or drugs. Trish would be alone with the toothless one. The first time, she thought she would ask him questions, maybe he would talk.

Why am I here? No answer.

Why did you guys kidnap me? he shifted his legs. Her questions bothered him. She didn’t care.

I asked you a question.

I don’t wana talk wiff you.

The men must have talked among themselves, because after that they all ignored her questions. It was only when she asked to use the bathroom or asked for more water, that they responded. Toward the middle of the week, there appeared to be more phone calls. But as there were more calls, the men got increasingly anxious. She wasn’t sure if she made them angry. Maybe they didn’t know what they were supposed to do with her. Is that why they wouldn’t talk to her?

Or maybe they are just in over their heads. Trish found she was getting angry. Knowing crying probably wouldn’t sway these tough men; she wondered if she got angry and demanded they let her go. After further thought, the fact, that there were three of them and one of her, stifled any and all aggressive action on her part. Any scheme to get away she came up with, had no chance of working anyway.

The toothless one tried to harass Trish by grabbing the air in front of her and pretending to squeeze her neck. When she didn’t respond, he stayed in the livingroom and acted like he was bored; mumbling about killing people or watching porn to insult her. Trish concentrated on remembering the turns and stops they made getting to this house; and not looking in his direction kept her from outwardly reacting to his efforts. Inside her heart was pounding and it was all she could do to control her breathing. She sat on the floor on a pillow with her hands between her thighs and her head down. This man was becoming relentless. How much longer could she tolerate this? What do they want with her, she wondered?

By the fourth day, the Kid tried to mimic the toothless one in verbally abusing Trish. His tactic was to say, No one was looking for her. No one cared about her. No one loved her. She couldn’t keep a husband. At first Trish tried to ignore him. Then she wondered how he knew all about her. Had they been watching her? Following her?

As she marked each new day on the wall and no one came to her defense, her mental strength started to break down. It was now another MON and the 9th day she wrote on the wall with a prayer. Dear God you know where I a.m., help them find me and take me home.

Trish had wondered if anyone was looking for her. At first she told herself, of course. Sue couldn’t go a day without bragging about her kids or joking around with Trish. Joy and Barry were always comparing medical techniques they had learned.

The first days she was held in this house, on her guided trips to the bathroom, she looked for ways to escape. The bathroom window was too small. Bedroom doors were locked. How would she get out?

Over a week of being held and with the verbal abuse from the two of the three men, she began to doubt herself. Whenever she woke from a sound sleep, she got frightened all over again. Heart pounding, body jitters, mouth dry, stomach lurching or gurgling kept her senses on hyper alert. The left over cold fried food when she got, didn’t appear to help her stomach any.

Doubts began to plague her tired mind. A borrowed husband and daughter, who was she kidding. Single child, parents dead, Trish did not appear to be prone to doubts or depression before. But this was the ninth day of being scared and thinking negative thoughts. Would they rape me? Kill me would be better than rape she thought. The tears tried to come but she fought them back and wiped them away quickly.

If she could just melt into the woodwork, they might forget she was there. But how would she get out. These thoughts just made her more scared. To try to calm her shaking body, she pressed her back harder against the green wallpaper, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.

They used all the Kid’s pot the first few nights, she knew enough to open the little bathroom window and get some good air when she was getting giddy. A couple of days later, they went to the tooth-less one’s pills. Recognizing some of the opioids that she saw on the coffee table, she knew that anything could happen.

There were other pills dumped on the coffee table that they missed. This time was especially worrisome for Trish. Fortunately for her the men were seasoned users and they were just more animated in their video games; playing for hours on end. They slept one or two at a time, only.

At night while the men slept, she listened to see if all three were asleep. During the day they would doze, but not at the same time. This made her wonder, who didn’t sleep at night. Did they take turns? The constant stress made her sleep hard at times.

For comfort, she stuffed the extra pillows in the sleeping bag. Using it as a mattress, she lay in a fetal position covered with the dark blanket. She really aimed at being strong. But the darkness of the nights always brings on the negative thoughts and silent tears.

Most nights she was tired, but sleep wouldn’t come until early morning. Curled in a fetal position in the corner struggling to tune out the sounds and smells, she would picture herself somewhere else. Then one of the men would snort or pass gas in their sleep. The tightness in her stomach and shaking of her hands and whole body, just never seemed to stop.

Chapter 2

When the men were all in the kitchen, Trish felt she could relax a little. She counted the marks on the wall to remind her of each day she was held captive. It was late in the afternoon on the second Monday. Trish could hear some of what the men were saying. They talked of food. Suddenly her eyes darted in fear knowing what that meant for her, the time alone again with the toothless one.

She made sure to ask the quiet one if she could use the bathroom before he left. The toothless one started a video game just as the van left. They came back about an hour and forty-five minutes later with a bag of hamburgers, fries, and some groceries.

The big quiet one gave her a hamburger, a container of small fries and a can of Root Beer. Looking in his eyes, she thanked him. They all ate in silence as they watched an old movie on TV.

Later Trish went to the bathroom, but the toothless one grabbed her as she came out. Squeezing her arm he led her back to the couch. Trish was relieved when he let go. She went back to her spot and he went to his couch again. Trish slept for several hours in a row that night and woke more alert, but still scared.

It was the second Tuesday morning and no obvious reason for kidnapping her. Trish could not figure out why they did it. Would they just let her go? Did anyone in town know where she had gone? Work, family friends, they would all be wondering right?

A deeper sleep had eased some of the nervous exhaustion. Trish’s thinking was clearer. She had to find a way out of here. Thoughts to remedy her situation were now forming in her mind. Look, listen and act was a motto she had learned for something, what was it? Whatever just try it, she told herself. They are between her and the only exit. So Listen. Think…

How are we goin’ ta pull this off? The younger pimpled faced kid whispered; he must have been sitting on the kitchen counter banging his stocking feet against the cupboard below waiting for breakfast. Trish recognized the banging noise. He was always hungry and it wasn’t just because of the drugs. She knew he was young and probably still growing.

Do you have to sit on the cupboard? The quiet one asked out loud.

Doth you hafe a gun? Toothless whispered. Trish imagined the sounds coming from between soft unsupported lips with spit flying at every word, as usual. Before she either couldn’t hear or she didn’t pay any attention because of the filthy way they talked. Today she was listening.

I thought you know after we get the money, we’d like cut up the body…after, you know and put it in the garbage bags I got….Like just drop them off here and there along the road. The young pimple faced kid’s whisper sounded proud of his ideas. Probably eager to get into the decision making; Trish wondered what his age was and what he was talking about.

Just where do you think you are going to cut her up? Obviously the quiet one in the house wanted to know. Trish could imagine food he was frying and had seen the spattered grease on top of the stove and everything near it. Remembering that she had eaten food made on the stove made her stomach turn as she continued to listen.

Do it in the bathtub, is leth methy that way. Toothless’s voice was low and sounded juicy.

Not in my bathtub, my daughter takes a bath in there! The man hissed a little louder than a whisper.

As Trish had passed the kitchen doorway, headed for the bathroom, they ceased talking. The men all looked at each other. Trish didn’t want them to know she heard, so she walked right on by. But she did notice their positions in the kitchen. Leaving the bathroom door open a crack, she could listen for their conversation when it resumed.

However, they quit talking. Trish closed the bathroom door quietly. Wondering about what she heard and tried to make sense of it. The big quiet guy was edgy. She wondered if he was uncomfortable with kidnapping her. What was their reason for it? He must not have custody of his little girl. Is that why he is edgy? Why did they kidnap her? What did they want? The questions rolled around in her mind. Had he already gone too far? Was she a liability now? Something they had no use for and had to get rid of before they got caught? What were they going to cut up…was it her. Trish hurried in the bathroom and went back to her spot as though she hadn’t heard a thing.

Didn’t he tell yah wat ta do, how we gettin’ the dough? Toothless said as the chairs scraped the floor being moved into position for the men to eat at the table.

We’ll field dress her in the woods out back. The young one hopped off the cupboard, walked to the table and moved a chair.

We’ll give him another day to tell us what to do with ….. The big guy was evidently dishing up and starting to talk out loud. You guys are eating me out house and home. This dozen eggs and pound of bacon should hold you for a while. I took these two weeks off work and am running out of money for food.

Trish could hear the others eating. What he said evidently fell on deaf ears. There was no response other than the continued sounds of silverware hitting the plates and lips smacking.

With the threats from two of them and all of them getting high, anything could happen. Her imagination fed into that and a continuous nervous stomach and shaking hands didn’t help. She had to get away…where would she go…which way is home…would they really catch her and bring her back or worse…maybe she should just wait…does anyone know where she is…how would they find her…would they find her? Oh God help me.

The conversation stopped while they ate. It was their custom that the quiet one did the dishes and the other two sat on the couches and dozed or played video ga.m.es. She didn’t mean to, but her nerves were on super alert all morning and it was physically exhausting. She dozed.

Hearing footsteps coming from the kitchen woke her. Then someone bumped the coffee table and it rattled. Listening to the steps getting closer, her heart pounded in her chest. Her stomach muscles immediately tighten more as she lay curled up in the corner. She squeezed her back against the