Across State Lines

By CJ Johnson

Heather Whitaker has experienced more in her young life than women twice her age.   After being beaten and raped by her boyfriend Heather sought refuge at a domestic violence shelter.  Here, where she should be safe, Heather is befriended by a woman who lu

• Language: English
• Publisher: City of Fountains Press
• Release date: Feb 6, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989999651

CJ Johnson

CJ Johnson was born and raised in the mid-west and spent over ten years working for a major metropolitan police department with the last six spent as a detective in the Sex Crimes Section of the Special Victims Unit. Passionate about her work, she fought hard for justice for every victim - especially those others often overlooked. In 2012, she left the high-stress, fast paced career of law enforcement investigations to spend more time with her family. As a nationally recognized subject matter expert on sexual assault investigations, she focused on developing and executing training curriculum focusing on sex crime investigations to law enforcement agencies and their officers for the state of North Carolina. She continues to play an active role in her mission to end interpersonal violence through training, volunteerism, and leading a team of investigators for an organization with an aligned mission while working on the City of Fountains series.

Book preview

CHAPTER

ONE

The sound of the tires rolling across the pavement echoed in Heather’s ears. She twisted her body but couldn’t loosen the duct tape binding her hands and feet. She took slow, deep breaths, trying not to panic as the trunk walls close in around her.

Heather felt the car begin to slow down and eventually stop. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She listened to the muffled voices but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. The doors of the car creaked open, then slammed shut. She waited.

After what seemed like forever, Heather heard the doors of the car open again. The car shuddered as the engine turned over and roared to a start. Laughter echoed from the backseat as tears rolled down Heather’s cheeks.

Heather felt the seat back move against her head, then the center console lower. A rush of cool air forced its way into the hot, cramped trunk. Heather gulped the fresh air and fought the urge to scream.

Drink this.

Heather saw a straw sticking out of a white Styrofoam cup. She hesitated, afraid of what might be inside. Tentatively she sipped the amber liquid, sighing with relief at the familiar taste of cola. The cup was moved abruptly from her mouth causing the liquid to dribble down her chin.

Heather pleaded when the console started to close, Please! Leave it open. It’s so hot back here.

She heard the men chuckling in the backseat, but the console was left down.

Where are you taking me?

Heather lay there listening to the sounds of the radio, waiting for an answer to her question. She twisted her hands to loosen the tape, but her efforts were futile. If anything, the binds felt tighter.

Let me out of here. Why are you doing this? Where are we going? Just let me go. Heather continued to ask questions, barely stopping long enough to take a breath.

Once again Heather felt the car slow. When it came to a stop, the radio went silent. The chatter within the car came to a lull and the car door creaked open. Heather heard steps thump on the pavement then come to a stop at the back of the car. The latch holding the trunk closed was released. The trunk opened to bright sunlight shielded by the hulking man who had shoved her inside. They appeared to be on the side of the road, but Heather did not know where they were. Heather wriggled her body and tried to sit up.

Please let me out of here. I won’t tell anyone if you just let me go.

Corey looked at her and laughed a deep, sinister laugh. You aren’t going anywhere. He grabbed a pillowcase from the trunk. He pulled Heather into a sitting position and started to put it over her head.

Please don’t! I promise, I’ll be quiet! Please don’t cover my head. I won’t be able to breathe!

Corey looked at Tubby and said, Does your dad still have that fishing boat?

Tubby started to shake his head no, then saw the look in Corey’s eyes and said, Yeah. He said I can use it any time I want.

We should take this girl for a boat ride. Maybe at sunset? I hear girls like that, Corey chuckled. He looked back at Heather and said, It will be the last sunset you see before I throw your dead body into the water.

Corey put the pillowcase over Heather’s head and grabbed the duct tape. She continued to plead until he removed the fabric but took a strip of tape and covered her mouth. He hesitated before shoving her back into the trunk, dropping the roll of duct tape next to her body.

Heather twisted her body and moved her head from side to side, trying to get the tape off her mouth. But the more she twisted the more the tape pulled against her hair. She finally stopped moving and lay quietly wondering why someone she thought was her friend would do something like this to her.

CHAPTER

TWO

Heather didn’t know how long they drove before the car once again came to a stop. Her eyes were sore from crying, and her chest hurt from the strain of trying to breathe inside the cramped space.

The car doors opened, and Heather could hear the muffled sounds of someone talking, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Sweat trickled from her damp hair down her face and into her red eyes. Heather blinked, trying to clear her vision. Blood oozed from the wound on her cheek and mixed with the salt of her tears. Heather’s body ached from being cramped inside the trunk. The fear of her fate echoed in her mind.

Corey knocked on the door and after a few moments the doorway filled with a dark, imposing figure.

Hey Big Bruce.

What do you want?

We need to stash a girl here while we use her car. Can we put her in your basement?

Bruce looked through the doorway to the car. Not seeing anyone inside, he said, Boy, quit messin’ with me.

Bruce turned his back to Corey and let the door slam closed behind him.

Corey returned to the car and unlocked the trunk. The lid popped open, causing Heather to jump in surprise. Corey stood over her body with William and a man she only knew as Tubby.

Corey grabbed her by the shoulders, looked at Tubby, and said, Get her feet.

The pair carried Heather to the back door of the small block house. She twisted her head and tried to catch a glimpse of the rundown neighborhood as William opened the back door. He stepped aside to give Corey and Tubby room to carry Heather into the kitchen.

Corey was moving towards the basement stairs when a man’s voice boomed, What the hell’s going on in here?

Big Bruce, I told you we needed a place to hold this girl.

What’s wrong with you, boy. Don’t take her down there, Bruce barked. Go sit her on the couch.

Corey and Tubby carried Heather into the sparsely furnished living room and dropped her as directed. Heather suddenly wished the tape was off her mouth, so she did not have to breathe through her nose. The smell of rotting food and days-old garbage made her gag with each breath. Heather surveyed the room, and a motion out of the corner of her eye caused her to turn just as cockroaches scurried up the wall.

Big Bruce followed the men into the living room. He stood in front of Heather and looked down, towering over her with question in his eyes. She jerked her head backward in fear as he reached down with his bear-like hand and grabbed the tape’s edge, then ripped it from her mouth. Heather gulped the air hungrily and then began to cough. She opened her mouth to speak, but the look in Corey’s eyes caused her to stop.

Bruce walked into the kitchen, with William close behind. Tubby retrieved a brown vial from his pants pocket and poured a fine white powder onto a mirror lying on the coffee table. Using a razor, he divided the powder into lines. Tubby made a straw out of a twenty-dollar bill, placed it near the powder and inhaled. Corey took the makeshift straw and snorted the rest. Heather looked on in silence.

Snapping his head to the side, Corey said, Damn man, that’s good stuff. You aren’t cooking with that shit, are you?

Naw, man, this is my personal stash.

Corey nodded then stood up to leave the room. Tubby’s eyes bore through Heather. With her hands and feet still bound, she scooted her body as far back against the couch as she could. Sensing her fear, Tubby stood up and started to move towards her, a smirk forming on his mouth.

Corey and William got theirs, now it’s time for me to get mines.

Softly Heather asked, What about Audrey? Won’t she be mad?

Bitch don’t own me. I do what I want. I’m my own man. Heather cowered as Tubby made his way to stand in front of her. He exposed himself, grabbed her hair, and said, Suck it bitch.

She clenched her lips tightly.

Tubby twisted her hair and jerked, Maybe you didn’t hear what I said. I said, suck it.

Tears trickled down Heather’s red cheeks as she complied with Tubby’s orders. When he was finished, he shoved her back onto the couch, zipped his pants, and left the room.

CHAPTER

THREE

Big Bruce led the men back into the living room and asked, How long are you going to be gone?

A few hours. I got some business to handle, Corey answered.

Why can’t you take her with you?

Corey looked at Heather, I need the space in the trunk. Besides, she ain’t going nowhere. Accept maybe the morgue. She won’t be no problem for you.

Heather flinched as Tubby ran the side of his hand across her jaw and said, I’m sure she’ll take care of whatever needs you have. Won’t you?

Bruce hesitated before saying, Leave her.

Give me your phone number, Corey demanded.

Bruce looked from Heather to Corey, 741-1925.

Okay. We’ll call you when we’re done. Don’t let her out of your sight.

Bruce waited until the men left to ask Heather her name.

Heather. Heather Whitaker.

Where are you from?

South Kansas City. Grandview, actually.

How’d you get mixed up with them boys?

Tubby’s girlfriend, Audrey. She’s my roommate at the women’s shelter. Heather paused before quietly adding, I thought Audrey was my friend.

Bruce gently placed his hand on Heather’s knee. She instinctively jerked her knee away in fear. Realizing what she must have thought, Bruce lifted his hand and said, I’m not going to do anything to you. You have got to be about my baby girl’s age.

Heather didn’t respond but her stomach began to rumble.

Are you hungry?

She nodded.

Do you like chicken nuggets?

Heather nodded.

Alright. I’ll go fix you some. Bruce clicked the power onto the television and went into the kitchen.

Heather could hear Bruce talking to someone, but the television masked what he said. She moved her body, trying to ease the pain in her wrists and shoulders. When Bruce finally returned with a plate of food, she softly asked, Can you please undo my hands?

Tears returned to Heather’s eyes and her stomach sank with defeat when Bruce turned and left the room. She sat and stared at the food, silently wondering if he expected her to eat like a dog with her hands bound behind her back.

A few moments later, Bruce returned with a knife in his hand. Heather shrank into the sofa, jumping when a bug crawled across her leg.

Can you stand up?

She looked up with hesitation, then nodded her head slightly. She scooted towards the edge of the sofa, put her bound feet on the floor, and used her hands to push herself up. Bruce pulled her hands away from her body and sliced the tape.

Oh my gosh, thank you! Heather rubbed her shoulder and rolled her neck. My arms were starting to go numb. Can I cut the tape on my feet too?

Bruce paused, unsure if giving this woman a knife was a good idea.

Sensing his reluctance, Heather said, I promise I won’t do anything or try to go anywhere. I just want to undo the tape.

Bruce said, Sit down.

Just as Heather thought he was going to leave her feet bound together, Bruce knelt and cut the tape.

Once her hands and feet were free, Heather hungrily ate the chicken pieces that had been laid before her. When she was almost finished, she asked, Can I please have something to drink?

Bruce went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. Sitting it on the table, he asked, Where do you live?

Heather took a long drink of water then said, I’ve been staying at the women’s shelter by the highway. I’ve only been there for a few weeks. I couldn’t stay in my apartment anymore.

Why not?

Bobby-that’s my ex-boyfriend-he tried to kill me a few weeks ago, so the cops thought I’d be safer in a shelter. My caseworker said they’d help me transition into my own place again, but I need to find a job first. Do you know of anywhere I could work? I’m reliable. I have a car. Shoot, they’re going to bring me my car back, right? I mean, I have to have the car. It’s not even my car. It’s my grandma’s. She’s going to be so mad if I don’t get it back. Do you think they’ll bring it back?

Bruce tried to keep up with all of Heather’s ramblings without answering her. He had no idea what these boys were capable of.

CHAPTER

FOUR

When Heather finally stopped her barrage of questions to take a breath, Bruce said, I thought they would be back with your car by now. Let me see if I can get them on the phone.

Bruce picked up the phone then realized Corey never gave him his number. They hadn’t called him, and Bruce knew he was going to have to do something.

The sunlight coming through the window was starting to fade when he looked at Heather and said, I can’t keep you here. My lady friend will be coming by tonight and if she sees you here, there’ll be a heap of trouble.

Tears welled in Heather’s eyes. She blinked to keep them from falling down her cheeks. She was afraid to voice her thoughts but to herself she wondered, "Is he going to kill me?"

Where do you want me to take you? Bruce asked.

Can you take me back to the shelter? I’m not sure where I am, so I don’t think I can walk there. Or can you at least take me by it? I can walk some of the ways.

Bruce nodded and then asked, Where’s the shelter?

Heather thought for a minute before saying, I’m not supposed to tell anyone the address. Can you take me by Prospect? I can show you where to drop me off.

Heather noticed the tape Tubby had taken off her mouth lying on the couch. When Bruce looked away, she carefully grasped it in her hand. With a barely perceptible nod, Bruce led Heather to the back door.

Heather directed Bruce to the neighborhood near the shelter. Before they could see the gate that enclosed the property, she told him to let her out of the car, I’ll walk from here.

Are you going to call the cops?

Heather shook her head as she surreptitiously moved the tape that had been on her mouth from her hand to the back pocket of her pants.

Before she got out of the car Heather turned to Bruce and said, Thank you, Big Bruce.

Bruce nodded.

Heather stepped out of the car and closed the door softly behind her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but Heather held her head high as she walked away.

Once Bruce pulled away Heather walked to a bus stop a couple blocks from the shelter and sat on the bench to contemplate her options. She could go back to the shelter but wasn’t sure she’d be safe there. Her roommate was how she met the men who kidnapped her. She could call the cops, but Corey said he’d kill her if she did. And she believed him.

Heather sat at the bus stop shelter until the sky started to turn gray and the first stars began to dot the sky. When she saw the drug dealers taking their positions on the corner, Heather started to get scared and walked back to the shelter.

CHAPTER

FIVE

Night lay like a heavy blanket on the City of Fountains. The police cars parked on either side of the road reflected the glow of the streetlamps and lights from the buildings surrounding them. Detective Francesca Frankie Thomas stood looking out her fourth-floor office window, not seeing the scene below. She couldn’t shake the thoughts racing through her head. Or the images. The sound of the telephone ringing jolted Frankie from her thoughts, but she didn’t turn away from the window, knowing her partner would answer.

Sex Crimes, Detective Boden.

Frankie waited while Mia listened to the person on the phone.

Okay. Where is she now? Silence. Do we know where this happened?

Frankie turned and walked back to her desk.

Okay. One of us will meet you at the hospital, Mia hung up the phone.

Well?

Kidnap. Rape. Assault. Two jurisdictions. The other agency is en route and will meet us at County Hospital. Here I thought we were going to leave on time tonight.

Is there a scene or anything?

No. Sounds like there were a couple of houses and a car, but the officer doesn’t know the location of the houses, and the suspects still have her car. They have put a BOLO out for the car.

Why don’t you go on home. I’ll get a preliminary statement, and we can follow up on the locations tomorrow.

Are you sure? Mia asked.

Yeah. The kids are with Sophie, so I’m in no hurry to get home. You should go be with Erik. Besides, I’m on call anyway.

Mia smiled, Okay. I’ll gladly go spend some time with the hubs.

The detectives continued talking as they walked down the four flights of stairs to the garage exit and then said their good-byes.

Thanks again, Frankie. Call me if you need any help.

Frankie smiled, knowing Mia was being genuine and would come back to work if she called. I will. See you tomorrow!

During the ten-minute drive to County Hospital, Frankie let her thoughts return to what she had seen earlier that evening. She and Mia had been at the county jail interviewing Tessa Kemp about her connection to another case. Frankie and Mia were responsible for the investigation that originally brought Tessa into custody a few months prior. Tessa and another woman, Hannah Reitzell, reported a physical assault and a rape during a lawsuit they had filed against their employer. Frankie and Mia discovered Tessa wasn’t a victim but had collaborated with her friend Geoffrey Finnegan to facilitate the attack to increase the value of a civil settlement. Tessa and Finnegan were both in jail awaiting trial.

During an unrelated rape investigation, Frankie and Mia stumbled upon two dead women in a hotel, both of which had a rose tattoo on the inside of their wrists. The same tattoo Tessa had on her wrist. The same tattoo as another woman found in the trunk of a car in the West Bottoms over a year before. The Intelligence Unit and FBI had been called in to work the case, and since Frankie and Mia were familiar with Tessa, they were asked to talk to her and see if they could make a connection. Tessa had identified the dead women but had clammed up as soon as they asked about the tattoo.

When they left the jail to return to police headquarters, Frankie and Mia passed by the county courthouse. Frankie glanced over at the near-empty parking lot and watched the man she was dating, Derek Kensington, leaving in his car with a woman in the passenger seat. She couldn’t be certain but thought it was his co-counsel, Jessica Moon. The woman he had been sleeping with and had told Frankie he would stop seeing.

Frankie wasn’t sure what she should say or do with this information. She and Derek had a long history of being casual, but she had recently told him she wanted more. Derek had agreed to end his affair with Moon, which gave Frankie hope they would be taking things to the next level. Now it seemed like he might not have ended the affair after all.

As she pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, Frankie shook her head and said, Get it together.

CHAPTER

SIX

Frankie walked through the doors of the hospital emergency department with the confidence of someone who had been there many times and knew exactly where to go. She nodded at the security guard and told the admissions desk she was going to the forensic examination room. She navigated the hallways and found the room designated for collecting evidence in what was often referred to as a rape kit.

Frankie knocked lightly, then opened the door. She was baffled by what she saw. The tiny room was full of people. The examination table was flanked by a police officer from Kansas City, Missouri, an officer and detective from the Wyandotte County Sheriff’s office, and Alex, a victim advocate from the local rape crisis center. All were towering over the young girl seated on the examination table.

Frankie surveyed the young woman who looked to be about nineteen or twenty years old. Gray duct tape circled the pant legs of her torn blue jeans, and streaks of blood covered her white t-shirt. More duct tape cuffed the wrists of her hands which were clasped tightly in her lap. Frankie tried not to stare at the purple and black bruises forming around both her eyes or at the gash that dissected the left side of her face.

Looks like I’m the last one to arrive, Frankie said, trying to make light of the overwhelming number of people in the room. Looking towards the young woman, she said, I’m Detective Thomas. And you are?

Heather Whitaker.

Looking towards the uniformed officers, Frankie asked, Do you guys have what you need to write your incident reports?

Both officers nodded.

Okay, why don’t you leave Detective… Frankie looked at the other detective with a look of question.

Steel was the gruff response.

…Detective Steel and I to talk to Ms. Whitaker.

The officers quickly left the room.

Now that’s better. Would you mind if we sit down?

Sure.

Frankie pulled up a chair for Detective Steel and a stool for herself. Alex sat in the chair on the opposite side of the examination table. The tension in the room lessened slightly.

Can you tell us what happened that made you come to the hospital tonight?