Forsaken (20 page)

“Of course not today, you’re sick. But perhaps we could issue a written retraction of your statement at the Challenger Airlines Center. That would buy some time until you’re ready to do a live retraction. Letting people share in your reunion with Kacey might help put the whole thing in perspective, help them remember what was at stake.”

Kacey cocked her head. “What statement?” She looked at Simon, her brow furrowing. “What did you say, Dad?”

Elise put her hand to her mouth. “Hasn’t anyone told you? It’s been all over the news. I assumed you knew.”

“She hasn’t seen any TV,” I said. “We were with the police the whole time in Chicago. I didn’t think it was my place to discuss it with her.”

Simon set the cards on the food tray and frowned at Elise. She froze. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet. Thank you for bringing it up, though.”

Kacey looked at Elise, then at Simon. “What are you guys talking about?”

Elise got up and walked over to Kacey. She knelt beside her and put her hand on her knee. “Honey, your father had to—”

“Elise, please run downstairs and let the press know that I’ll talk to them tomorrow morning, here at the
hospital,” Simon said. “If you go right now, you can probably catch them before they scatter for lunch.”

Elise blinked several times. “Oh, you changed your mind?”

“Yes, I changed my mind.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I understand. I’ll take care of it.” She picked up her purse and walked out the door.

Despite the way Elise treated me, it was still painful to watch her interact with Simon. I could understand why he wouldn’t want to encourage her feelings for him, but I didn’t see why he couldn’t be a little gentler.

Kacey put the phone in the pocket of her jeans. “Is anyone going to tell me what happened?”

I got up. “I’ll go out in the hall for a while so you two can talk.”

Simon waved me back. “No, please stay.”

“All right.” I sat in the chair Elise had vacated, crossed my legs, and wondered why he wanted me to be part of such a personal conversation.

Simon picked up the deck of cards and shuffled them in his lap. “The kidnappers made a demand. I had to meet it to get them to let you go. Did they say anything about it to you?”

“No, they barely talked to me the whole time. What was the demand?”

He continued to shuffle the cards, his fingers moving more and more quickly.

She reached over the bed rail and touched the deck. “I think the cards are shuffled now, Dad. What was the demand?”

He set the cards back on the tray. “I had to deny my faith in Jesus, and I had to do it on television.”

She blinked hard. “And you did it?”

“Yes.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Elise said something about the Challenger Airlines Center. What was that about?”

“That’s where I made the statement, at the celebration in Dallas on Saturday. Listen, you’re alive, Kace. That’s all that matters.”

“It’s
one
thing that matters; it’s not
all
that matters.”

“It’s all that matters to me.”

Kacey got up and went to the window, which overlooked a courtyard where many of the media had set up their equipment. She stood with her arms folded for a few moments. Then she turned and faced Simon. “I want to talk to the press.”

“What?” Simon looked at me.

I raised an eyebrow but kept my mouth shut.

He propped himself on one elbow. “Why would you want to talk to the press?”

“I had a lot of time to think during the past week. There was nothing else to do but think and pray and be scared. One of the things that I thought about was how I would describe what happened if I ever got out of there. I would like to do that.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Simon said. “You don’t have any experience with the press. What would you tell them?”

“That the guys who took me are cowards; that they didn’t have the guts to talk to me or let me see their faces. I want to tell them how they did this.” She held up her bandaged hand. Her face flushed. “I want to tell them what kind of people did this to me—and to you. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.” She covered her face with her hands.

“Oh, Kace, come here.” He held out his arms. She moved over, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned into him. After a few moments he eased her away and looked her in the eye. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything. They’re criminals. They did this; you didn’t. I don’t ever want you to feel a bit guilty about this.” He pulled a tissue out of a box on the end table next to his bed and handed it to her. “I still don’t think talking to the press would be such a good idea, though.”

I stood up. “I think you should let her do it.”

They turned and looked at me as if they had completely forgotten I was in the room. I’d never seen Simon really lose his temper, but I figured that if he was ever going to, this was a likely time. He tilted his head to one side and frowned. An explanation was called for, and fast.

“Kacey went through a lot. If she wants a chance to tell people about it, I think it’s great. Number one, it could help her deal with everything. Number two, any chance we get to expose these people for what they really are, we should take it. Besides, what’s the press going to do to her? She’s a twenty-year-old kid who just survived a
kidnapping. They’ll handle her with kid gloves.” I waited for the explosion.

Simon leaned back on his pillow. He ran his hand over his head and squinted at the ceiling. After a few moments, he turned toward us. “You’re right, Taylor. If you really want to do this, Kace, I’m okay with it.”

I exhaled.

“I do want to.”

He wagged a finger at her. “It won’t do any good, though, if you lose your temper. Can you keep your composure? Because if you can’t, this will be a disaster.”

“I can do it.”

“We’ll have to clear this with Michael,” I said. “We need to be sure it won’t affect the investigation. There may be information Kacey shouldn’t give out. I’ll call him.”

I pulled out my cell phone and made the call. Within minutes I had the okay from Michael. His only instructions were that she stay away from information about specific locations and times.

Simon picked up his cell phone and punched a number. “Elise? Kacey is going to talk to the press with me tomorrow, so you can let them know. I’m sure that will increase attendance by about fifty percent.” He paused. “Yes, nine o’clock would be great. Then I can check out of this place. Thanks.”

He clicked off the phone. “She’s going to set something up outside if the weather is okay. There isn’t any place in the building that could handle all the press for something like this.”

Simon turned to Kacey. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. I’ll sit next to you. If you decide you want to stop at any time, you just let me know and I’ll end it. We can go over some things tonight, like sitting up straight and keeping your voice loud enough.”

Kacey nodded. “I guess I’ll stay at the house tonight. This cot isn’t the most comfortable.”

“By yourself? I don’t think that’s going to happen. Why don’t you stay with Meg?”

“I’ll have to wake up early to get ready for the press conference. I won’t have all of my stuff at Meg’s.” She looked at me. “Can you stay at our house with me tonight?”

I was taken aback and didn’t know what to say. Simon spoke up. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”

“Well, you’ve got the police outside your door here, Simon, so I guess you’ll be fine. Sure, I’d be happy to do it. Kind of like a sleepover, right, Kacey?”

She pumped a fist. “Yeah, let’s trash the place.”

“Funny,” Simon said.

Kacey got up. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She grabbed the overnight bag I brought her, walked around the corner, and closed the door behind her.

Simon looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“She’s got a lot of guts. You’d think she just came back from a tough day at school rather than a kidnapping.”

“Do you think this is real, or is she holding things in?”

I shrugged. “She’s got to be holding things in to some extent. No one could be this composed after something that traumatic. I guess only time will tell whether it’s a problem. She’s a tough kid. She’s got a lot of her father in her.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m no psychiatrist, but I think that telling the story at the press conference might help her.”

Kacey came out of the bathroom. Her dark hair was brushed and shiny, and fell smoothly over her shoulders. “How’s this look for my first press conference?”

I smiled. “You’re gorgeous. But you might be getting ready a little bit early since it’s not until tomorrow morning.”

Simon frowned. “If you’re going to do this, you have to be serious. If you go out there acting like a princess, they’ll eat you alive.”

“Give me some credit, Dad.”

He smiled. “I do, honey. Believe me, I do.”

THAT NIGHT KACEY AND I stayed up too late watching a romantic comedy. We ate buttered popcorn and ridiculous amounts of candy. The next morning we were up early fixing her hair for the press conference. I never had a brother or sister, and I have to admit that it was one of the most fun things I’d done in ten years. We laughed like middle-school girls and spent a full hour picking out just the right outfit. We settled on a blue skirt, white camisole, and yellow crop sweater with three-quarter length sleeves. She was gorgeous and wholesome, the perfect combination for the press conference. I was sorry when it was time to leave.

The hospital was shaped like a giant letter
E,
with the long back side of the
E
in front. The press conference would take place in a courtyard tucked between two of the wings
.
The building faced east, and in the early morning sun most of the courtyard was in the shade. The air was dry and cool as Kacey, Elise, and I walked out the side door. Behind us a nurse pushed Simon in a wheelchair, his sprained ankle wrapped in a blue boot. Kacey slowed her pace and shivered. I had on a white cotton cardigan, which I took off and draped over her shoulders. We laughed about instantly ruining the “look” we had worked so hard that morning to create.

“I’m not sure I’m really cold,” she said. “It might just be nerves. Besides, I’d rather freeze to death than cover up my outfit. This is my first time on TV.” She pulled the sweater off and held it out to me.

“You’ll be fine. You’re going to be sitting in the shade, though, so why don’t you hang onto the sweater in case you need it?”

She rolled it up and carried it in one hand.

At least a hundred reporters, photographers, and camera operators stood on the grass, chatting in clusters of two and three. A rope separated them from a long folding table set up with a row of microphones. When the press saw Kacey and Simon, the photographers surged toward the rope, clicking as they moved. The television camera operators slung their cameras onto their shoulders and trotted to the front, twisting and slide-stepping for position.

Elise stopped next to the table and spoke to a tall, freckled young man with thick red hair. He wore a hospital ID card on a cord around his neck. He pointed toward the rope and shouted, “Let’s keep this organized, folks. We’ll have a few minutes for photos. Then Reverend Mason and Kacey will take some questions.”

Elise tapped him on the shoulder. He leaned over and she whispered in his ear. He straightened and opened his mouth to speak but stopped, wrinkled his forehead, and leaned over to her again. They whispered some more. Then he held up his index finger. “Correction. Only Kacey will be taking questions today. Reverend Mason will have a separate press conference tomorrow morning at his house.” Elise had talked it over with Simon, and they had agreed that Kacey was likely to have an easier go of it if Simon was not fielding questions with her.

It was the time of year in North Texas when spring nudges the remaining traces of winter from the landscape for good. Azaleas lined the back wall of the building with dark pink flowers. The lawn was still mostly brown and dormant, crunching beneath our shoes as we walked. But sprigs of new Bermuda poked through here and there, speckling the courtyard with patches of green.

I stopped short of the table while Kacey and Elise made their way to the folding chairs. They sat behind the microphones. The nurse wheeled Simon next to Kacey. On the press side of the rope, the hospital had lined up ten rows of chairs in a setting that reminded me of a high-school assembly. Within a few minutes the
physician who had examined Kacey hurried across the lawn in his blue scrubs to join them at the table.

After an introductory statement by the doctor and about ten minutes of questions for him, Elise held up a hand. “Dr. Sabbathia has to get back to surgery. Thank you, doctor.” He nodded and got up. “Now, Kacey will take a few questions. Please remember that she’s just a college student and she’s been through a lot more in the past week than most of us will ever experience.”

Several reporters shouted questions at once. “Let’s take them one at a time, please,” Elise said. She pointed at an Asian woman in the front row.