Gone in a Flash (12 page)

‘Jesus!’ Mr Smith whispered. ‘What the hell?’

‘Get the satchel!’ Mr Jones whispered back.

‘Now we’ve got to kill her!’ Mr Smith said.

‘No!’ Mr Jones said. ‘We can leave her—’

‘To scream her head off before we even get out of the house?’

‘So we take her with us?’ Mr Jones suggested.

When Alicia heard Mr Jones’s suggestion, she managed to arrange her mouth under the pressure of his hand so she could bite his palm. Mr Jones instinctively pulled his hand away, and Alicia sucked in air to scream, but Mr Smith’s hand was over her mouth before the air or the scream came out.

‘Take the bag!’ Mr Smith hissed at Mr Jones. ‘I’ll take the girl.’ Mr Smith, shorter, and though stocky, still lighter than Mr Jones, attempted to lift the sixteen-year-old, who was mostly all legs, off her bed. Her arms were hitting him, her legs kicking him. It was therefore hard to keep a hand over her mouth.

‘OK,’ Mr Smith said, rethinking, ‘I’ll take the bag, you take the girl.’

The two men switched places and Mr Jones easily lifted Alicia while still able to keep a meaty palm over her mouth. They went quietly down the stairs and out the front door.

I woke up at eight a.m., which is my habit, did my morning ablutions, got dressed for breakfast, then sat down between the two queen beds, picked up the phone and called my son’s house. Early as it was, all I got was their silly machine and its silly message. I left a cryptic one of my own – serves E.J. right for all the cryptic ones she’s left me – and headed out the door for breakfast.

There was only one of our group in the dining room, Mr Norris – Gerald Norris – a lovely tenor who’d moved to Codderville three or four years ago. He was a widower and had joined our church right off the bat. He’d always seemed like a good man.

As he was sitting at a table for four, and all by himself, I asked if I might join him. I don’t think that was inappropriate, but no matter, tongues will wag.

He half stood but I waved him back down. Such chivalry no longer seems the norm, which is unfortunate. He said, ‘I’d be delighted.’

After I’d perused the menu and gave the girl my order, Mr Norris said, ‘You were rooming with Mrs Donley, right?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘Any word from her?’ he asked.

‘Well,’ I started, but hesitated. Is this the person to confide in? I’d like to talk this over with E.J., but I was still waiting for her to call me back. ‘When I got back to my room earlier yesterday, her bags were gone and she’d left a note saying she’d gone to be with a friend who was distraught about her pending divorce.’

Mr Norris smiled. ‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘All’s well that ends well.’

‘That’s not quite the end of it, however,’ I said, then quieted as the server brought my breakfast – oatmeal with strawberries, wheat toast, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee.

When my meal had been placed before me, Mr Norris leaned forward. ‘What?’ he said, eagerly.

So I explained about what she said about her contacts, and how I’d found the whole lot still in the bedside table.

‘Somebody else packed her up,’ he said, ‘but didn’t know about her contacts and glasses. Somebody who obviously didn’t know her all that well. Did you compare the handwriting on that note to something else of hers?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t have anything to compare it to.’

‘Well, surely we can find something,’ Mr Norris said.

I smiled at him. He smiled back. The teeth may have been false, but the dimples were real.

Bess made it downstairs first, clad in an Indian-print mini-dress with black leggings and ankle boots. She looked adorable but I knew better than to say so. ‘Where’s Alicia?’ she asked.

‘Probably in the bathroom,’ I said, setting out juices and cereal.

‘No, I just came out of the bathroom. She’s not in her bed, either, and it’s not made. Which is a first,’ Bess said.

Megan wandered down the stairs. She’d managed to pull on jeans, a bra and a top, but her shoes were in her hands, as well as her make-up bag. And by the bags under her eyes, she looked like she needed it.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ I asked her.

‘God! I hardly slept a wink last night,’ she complained, throwing her body onto one of the bar stools. ‘Something woke me up.’

‘Did you see Alicia upstairs?’ Bess asked her.

‘I wasn’t looking for her,’ Megan said.

‘But did you see her?’ Bess insisted.

‘No! Jeez. I just said I didn’t sleep a wink last night! Get off my back!’

I left the kitchen and went to the bottom of the staircase, calling up, ‘Alicia! Time to get up! Breakfast is ready!’

There was no reply.

‘You don’t want to be late on your second day of school!’ I called up the stairs.

Still no answer.

‘Oh, for God’s sake. You’re supposed to be the good one,’ I said under my breath and headed up the stairs. I went to her room first and, like Bess had said, the bed was unmade. She wasn’t in it, or anywhere else in her room. Not only was her bed unmade, but her desk chair was tipped over and papers from her desk were on the floor. Very un-Alicia-like. I moved down the hall to the bathroom. The door stood open. It was a mess – towels on the floor, hair-care products littering the sink counter. But no Alicia. I looked behind the shower curtain, just in case she was playing a joke. Alicia didn’t joke much, but hey, it could happen. She wasn’t there.

I looked inside both the open doors of the girls’ rooms. No Alicia. I opened Graham’s door and looked in. She wasn’t in there either. With a sinking heart, I went back to Alicia’s room, in search of the satchel. It wasn’t in there.

I rushed down the stairs. She wasn’t in the formal living or dining rooms. She wasn’t in the master bedroom or bathroom, and I already knew she wasn’t in the kitchen and family room, where I’d already been.

‘Mom?’ Bess said, seeing me rushing around.

‘Is the minivan out there?’ I asked.

Bess jumped down from her stool and looked out the window of the back door. ‘Yes. Mom?’

Willis came out of the bedroom. Megan was down from her stool too. And the three of us, Bess, Megan and myself, were staring at each other.

‘What’s wrong?’ Willis asked.

I turned to him quickly. ‘Alicia’s gone.’

‘What do you mean, gone?’

‘As in she’s not here, Dad! Jeez! But her bed was slept in.’ Bess turned to me, panic on her face. ‘Mom?’

‘Did you check—’ Willis started.

‘Everywhere!’ I said. I didn’t add ‘duh’ but I wanted to.

‘The utility room? Your office?’ he offered.

OK. He got me. The two places I hadn’t checked. I moved fast, Willis and the girls right behind me. My office was under the stairs, down the hall from the formal dining room. She wasn’t in there. Across from my office was a combo utility room and half bathroom that shared the plumbing of the master bath we’d added when we’d had the extension made a couple of years ago. It ran the length of the dining room and had a window. Alicia wasn’t in there, but the window was broken.

The girls both screamed and burst into tears. Willis and I ran for our phones.

Luna called the school, giving vague excuses for all three girls’ absences. She was in our house with Chief Donaldson, arguing about whether or not to call in the FBI. I’d tried to get the girls to go back to their rooms and lie down, but neither of them were having it.

‘We’re here for the duration, Mom,’ Megan said. ‘We’ll do whatever is necessary to get her back.’ She had her arm around Bess’s shoulders. Bess, usually the stronger one, was still gulping back sobs, tears running down her cheeks.

‘I think right now it would be good if you’d take Bess upstairs—’ I started.

‘No!’ Bess all but shouted. ‘I’m staying down here!’ She wiped at her tear-streaked face. ‘I’m OK.’

I pulled the girls to me and we hugged for a moment.

Together we went into the living room where Luna sat on the sectional with Chief Donaldson and Willis.

Stealing myself, I told those present, ‘I checked Alicia’s room again when I was pretty sure she really was gone – and so is the satchel.’

Chief Donaldson nodded. ‘I’m not surprised,’ he said. ‘But thanks for checking, E.J. Meanwhile, it’s protocol to call in the FBI when there’s a kidnapping, which this obviously is,’ the chief said.

Bess left the embrace of her sister and me and moved further into the room. ‘The FBI only comes in if it’s across state lines or there’s a ransom, right?’ she asked. She didn’t wait for a response. ‘There won’t be a ransom and I’m sure they’re around here somewhere. All they wanted was the satchel, and they have that. And Alicia …’

She turned her back on them and came back into our huddle, tears leaking again.

‘She’s right, Barry,’ Luna said. ‘We’re on our own on this one.’

‘What’s this “we” shit?’ he said, then turned to me and my girls. ‘Excuse my French, ladies.’

‘Chief Polk is lending me to you,’ Luna said, stating the name of the chief of police of Codderville, her boss. ‘Until this thing is over.’

Barry nodded. ‘Well, that’s good,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to thank him.’

‘Thank me. I’m the one who talked him into it,’ Luna said.

‘Well, OK, then. Elena, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome, Barry.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ I said, stepping out of our huddle. ‘Skip all this “Cumbiya” shit and let’s find Alicia!’

Willis stood up and took my arm. ‘Calm down, baby—’ he started.

I pulled away from him. ‘You calm down!’ I said. Turning to the two professionals sitting there, I said, ‘Do you have any leads on these assholes? You said they rented the car under the name Brown, right?’

Luna answered. ‘That’s what we found out,’ she agreed.

‘So what are you doing to track him down? This Mr Brown? Surely we can do something—’

‘Mrs Pugh,’ Chief Donaldson said, standing up. ‘Lieutenant Luna and I will do everything in our power to bring your foster daughter home. Until then, you and your family need to stay put and let us do our work.’

He and Luna left by the front door, and all I could think as they departed was, Fat chance, Chief.

The rest of the night had gone decidedly downhill, as far as Alicia was concerned. The two men, who called themselves Smith and Jones, which she told them was extremely derivative, if not a little clichéd, found duct tape in the truck, which she could only conclude was not theirs since they had no idea where anything was and since it was neither the blue car nor the white car they’d been in earlier, and taped her mouth shut. The old truck did not have a back seat, so the three of them rode on the front bench seat, Alicia in the middle. At one point she managed to get a foot over the hump in the middle to the driver’s side, with hopes of slamming on the brakes and killing the pair of bookends, but unfortunately she hit the accelerator instead, only managing to throw them all back against the seat.

‘Grab her foot, for Christ’s sake!’ Mr Smith had yelled at Mr Jones. Mr Jones grabbed both her legs and put one of his larger legs over them, thus trapping her. She vowed never to wear shorty pajamas again. She felt violated by the man’s touch on her thigh. When this was over, she had every intention of taking a bath in hand sanitizer.

Meek Alicia was gone. She was channeling Megan and doing a good job of it. At least she was pissing them off. But she had every intention of busting out and heading home, with or without their heads in her satchel that was sitting on the floor board beneath her trapped legs.

They hadn’t blindfolded her, which she thought of as possibly a bad sign. If she knew where they were going, would they want to silence her? Within fifteen to twenty minutes, Mr Smith turned into a driveway, the headlights picking out barbed-wire fencing, a few trees, and some cattle whose sleep was disturbed by the bright light. She felt the old truck roll over a cattle guard, and within minutes Mr Smith had stopped and turned off the engine. They were parked in front of an old, two-story-frame house that leaned just a little to the right. Cement steps that didn’t connect to the front porch nevertheless led to it, and Mr Jones had her by the arm, leading her up the steps, across the porch, and into the barren front hall. Off to the right was a room with a light on and they took her in there. An old man sat in a ladder-backed chair, tied to it with duct tape. She nodded her head at him and he nodded back.

‘My, aren’t we polite!’ Mr Smith said sarcastically.

‘They’re just being friendly. I think, under the circumstances, they should both be commended for it!’ Mr Jones said.

‘I’ve decided I’m going to kill you with a knife, rather than a gun,’ Mr Smith said to Mr Jones. ‘It’s slower. I’ll have more fun.’

Mr Jones rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t listen to him,’ he said to Alicia and Bert. ‘I think he has a problem with low blood sugar.’

He sat Alicia down on the sofa, an old beat-up affair, held together with duct tape, possibly from the same role as the tape decorating Alicia and Bert.

‘If you promise not to be mean, I’ll take the tape off,’ Mr Jones said. Alicia nodded her head and Mr Jones removed the restraint.

‘What about that man? You know he could choke, or even get his nose stopped up and die because he can’t breathe out of his mouth,’ Alicia said, as sweetly as possible.

Mr Smith, having heard Alicia’s comment, turned quickly to Bert. ‘Take it off him,’ he said to Mr Jones.

‘You take it off!’ Mr Jones said, even though he was up and moving toward Bert. He removed the tape and Bert stretched his mouth in different ways, then tried his voice.

‘Excuse me, but I really gotta pee,’ he said.

Mr Jones looked at Mr Smith, who was on the phone, talking to Mr Brown, he assumed.

‘OK,’ Mr Jones said to Bert. Taking out his pocket knife, he knelt beside Bert and began to cut the tape. When he was finished, he helped the old man to stand up.

Mr Smith waved at him frantically. Then mouthed: ‘The girl! Tape!’

Mr Jones sighed and sat Alicia in the ladder-back chair and, only using enough tape to go around her body twice, adhered her to said chair.

‘This is ridiculous!’ Alicia said loudly.