Payback

by Jonnie Jacobs

Another time, Marta would have called her sister out for walking away from a job, but she didn’t have time for Cassie’s problems. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Only thing is, I’m a little short on cash right now. Can you lend me the money for a ticket?”

  At least one thing in Marta’s world hadn’t changed.

  Chapter 39

  Gordon concluded his lecture and dismissed class ten minutes before the end of the hour. He was surprised he’d managed to stay focused as long as he had. His mind was a million different places, and none of them had anything to do with American history.

  His behavior toward Marta this morning had bordered on cruel. He’d known it at the time and that hadn’t stopped him. But now, he regretted it. Why hadn’t he kept quiet? As angry as he was, he had trouble imagining his life without Marta.

  He didn’t want to imagine his life without her. Which was why what had happened with Todd was so hard to take.

  And on top of that, his daughter had run off—with Todd.

  There he was again, full circle. Todd. And it was Marta who’d set the whole thing in motion.

  His mind tumbled from one thought to another, from one fear to a worse fear. His chest was so tight he felt he might explode.

  As he left the classroom, he ran into the department chairman, Alan Warner. Gordon cringed, caught in the act of cutting out early. But Warner didn’t seem to notice.

  “Any news on your daughter?” Warner asked.

  “Nothing new.” Gordon wasn’t about to mention the photo of Jamie naked in the bathtub.

  “Sorry to hear that. She’s what, fifteen or sixteen?

  “Seventeen.”

  “It must be tough being a parent these days. I look at some of our students here on campus and thank my lucky stars my own kids are grown and settled.”

  “It’s not easy,” Gordon acknowledged. Tough being a husband, too, he added silently. Tough trying to be a family.

  “I hope you get good news soon.”

  “Thanks.” Gordon stopped at the vending machine and bought a bag of peanuts so he wouldn’t have to walk the rest of the way with Warner. He had nothing against the chairman, but he didn’t want to discuss Jamie, his daughter, his baby girl—how the hell had this happened?

  When Jamie was young, he’d happily answered the never-ending stream of questions she threw his way. Questions about stars and bugs and the endless wonder that was a child’s universe. He taught her to ride a bike and encouraged her fledgling attempts at gymnastics. He attended father–daughter cookouts with her Girl Scout troop, helped her with math homework, and together they’d painted her bedroom the bright yellow she had chosen in defiance of Marta’s preference for a softer color.

  He knew she wasn’t a child anymore, but she was still his baby girl, his Jamie. Or she had been until Todd showed up.

  The daughter he knew wouldn’t have lied. She wouldn’t have run away from home. She wouldn’t have chosen Todd over her parents.

  But that’s what she’d done.

  With a heavy heart, Gordon braced himself for office hours. He set his briefcase on his desk and powered up his cell phone.

  A message from Marta greeted him.

  *****

  Gordon arrived home to find his wife at the computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. Her hair was disheveled and her brow furrowed in concentration.

  “I’m home,” he said from the doorway.

  She looked up, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I tried calling when I got your message, but I couldn’t get through.”

  “I’ve been on the phone all afternoon.”

  Gordon cleared a stack of papers from the extra office chair and sat down. “You really talked to Jamie?” Marta nodded.

  “Is she okay?”

  “I couldn’t tell. We hardly talked. Todd yanked the phone from her hand in the middle of our conversation.” Marta’s words caught in her throat. “I got the feeling she had to sneak the call in behind his back.”

  “How did she sound?”

  “Scared. She wants to come home.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Todd won’t let her. He wouldn’t even let her talk to me.” Marta’s voice trembled. “He hit her.”

  Gordon flinched as though he’d been punched himself. “Where are they?”

  “They were in the San Francisco area, now they’re in a cabin somewhere, five or six hours’ drive from the city. In the woods. That’s about all she could tell me.”

  “So we don’t know how to find her?”

  “No. What if he’s keeping her locked up or something?”

  His daughter held prisoner by a crazy man. Gordon could barely contain himself. “What did the police say? You called them, right?”

  “Of course I called them. Phillips said they’d ‘alert the authorities,’ which is cop-speak for going through the motions. They don’t give a rat’s ass about a runaway seventeen-year-old.”

  “But she wants to come home,” Gordon protested. “She’s being held prisoner.”

  “We can’t leave this to the police. We have to find her ourselves.”

  “We don’t have the foggiest idea where she is!”

  “We’ll have to blanket northern California news outlets with pleas for information.” Marta’s eyes narrowed as they did whenever she was on a mission. “I’m trying to get her picture in every newspaper, on every television station, in every coffee shop possible. Someone has to have seen her. That’s why I’ve been on the phone all afternoon.”

  Gordon was familiar with his wife’s determination. When she set her mind to something, she gave it her all. But connecting with someone who knew where to find Jamie was worse than a long shot. It would be close to impossible.

  “Five or six hours from San Francisco covers a lot of territory,” he pointed out. He’d spent a summer there when he was in college. Three hours east took you from the ocean to the sierra. Going north, practically to the Oregon border.

  “I know it’s a big area, but that’s all we have to go on.”

  He reached for a copy of the press release Marta had prepared. Seeing Jamie’s picture on a “missing” poster sucked the air from his lungs.

  Marta stood and began shuffling papers on her desk. “I’m going out to San Francisco to spread the word in person.”

  Gordon stood also. “I’ll see if I can get someone to cover my classes tomorrow.”

  “You’re planning to come?”

  “You were planning on going alone?” he said, stung.

  “My sister is meeting me there.”

  “Cassie? You’re kidding. She’ll be useless.”

  “You never give her the benefit of the doubt, do you?”

  “How many times do you need to get burned?”

  “She wants to help,” Marta said.

  “So do I!” He couldn’t believe his wife would choose her neurotic sister over him. She was a disaster waiting to happen.

  “What about your classes?”

  “I’ll figure out something.” Covering for one day would be doable. Longer than that, more difficult. Gordon had missed half his classes already this past week. But surely people would understand that his daughter took precedence.

  “You’re sure you should do that?” Marta asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I know that area and you’ve never even been there.”

  “You think I’m not capable of handling this myself?”

  “That’s not what I meant. But I do know my way around—”

  ”You spent one summer there years ago. I don’t see what ‘knowing the area’ has to do with it, anyway.”

  “Don’t be dense. Besides, a father’s presence makes an impact in the media.”

  “And a mother’s doesn’t?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Someone should stay here in case there’s a break locally.”

  Gordon’s resentment flared. “Jamie’s not here. She’s in California. Besides, if
anyone stays here, it should be you. You’re the one who caused all this with your reprehensible behavior in Minneapolis.”

  Marta’s face closed up tight, as though she’d been slapped. A deep flush spread across her cheeks. “Low blow, Gordon.”

  “It’s the truth.” Marta could apologize until she was blue in the face but it didn’t change what she’d done. Or what had happened because of it.

  She crossed her arms. “What’s going to happen to us if you get fired again?”

  “I didn’t get fired from Tufts,” Gordon shot back. “My contract wasn’t renewed.”

  “Because you were accused of sexual harassment!”

  “It was a trumped-up charge, as you well know.”

  “Call it what you want. We ended up having to move to a hick town in the middle of nowhere. I had a good life there, a successful career, and Jamie had a group of friends she was comfortable with. We lost all of that because of you.”

  “So this is about me now? You’re saying this is my fault?”

  She glared at him. “You’re the one who started with the blame game.”

  “I was merely pointing out a fact.”

  Marta took a stack of papers from the printer and set them next to the computer. “It doesn’t make sense for you to go to San Francisco. At this stage, I’m just pounding the pavement. If I learn anything useful, then you can think about coming out.”

  Gordon gave up. He took a breath and leaned away. “When are you leaving?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll send you an email with my travel information.”

  “Fine. Have a good trip.” He turned on his heel and left the room.

  Chapter 40

  As her plane sped down the runway for takeoff, Marta couldn’t help remembering the last time she’d flown—leaving Minneapolis following her precipitous and foolish tryst with Todd Wilson. She was ashamed to remember what she’d been feeling that day. Along with the guilt, she’d savored the thrill of being considered desirable. It had been a long time since she’d felt that way.

  She hadn’t expected to hear from him again. Hadn’t wanted to. But she’d basked in the memory of a night that was as exciting as it was regrettable.

  Now, that same memory made her ill. Her reckless behavior had shattered her world. She’d caused pain to those she cared about most and had put Jamie in jeopardy. God willing, her daughter would be safe. She wasn’t so sure about her marriage.

  Rather than brooding over what she couldn’t control, Marta tried to focus on Jamie. Only one Bay Area television station had expressed interest in an interview, but she wasn’t giving up on the others. She intended to make contact again, once she was there. Along with contacting radio stations and newspapers. And she wanted to visit with the local police. Detective Phillips was supposedly coordinating efforts with the SFPD, but Marta wasn’t counting on his having made a forceful case for finding Jamie.

  When the plane leveled off, Marta pulled out her laptop and got to work. Finding her daughter was the most important media campaign of her life.

  *****

  As soon as they landed, Marta checked her phone for messages. Nothing. She felt a stab of disappointment. She’d been hoping for more responses to her inquiries from yesterday. Instead, it was looking as though the media wasn’t interested.

  She’d just have to persuade them.

  On the way to baggage claim, she picked up a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle, thinking maybe the paper had run at least a short blurb based on the press release she’d sent out. She scanned the entire paper while she was waiting for her suitcase to come through, and was once again disappointed. Not a single mention of Jamie.

  She took a shuttle to the hotel, silently cursing the heavy traffic that clogged the roads. She was eager to get to work.

  She had booked a room through the HotDeals website because the regular price of a centrally located hotel was well beyond her budget. With the Web discount she didn’t get lots of choices, but she got a decent price. The trip was still going to max out her credit card, but at least she and Cassie weren’t staying in a flea-bitten motel, multiple bus rides away from the places she needed to be. The Emperor Inn on Turk was old but recently renovated. Marta was crossing her fingers that it was also clean and safe.

  Cassie had arrived first, and Marta found her in the small lobby, talking to an attractive, middle-aged man in a dark suit. As usual, Cassie looked gorgeous. Her honey-blond hair was pinned loosely with a clip at the nape of her neck and her creamy skin was practically glowing. She wore dark leggings and a low-cut, turquoise top that accentuated the blue of her eyes as well as her slender figure. Looking at her, you’d think she was a Hollywood celebrity, not a hapless alcoholic who burned through dead-end jobs as fast as she did deadbeat men.

  When she spotted Marta, Cassie rushed to greet her with a hug. “Oh my gosh, it’s good to see you. How was your flight?”

  “Boring,” Marta said, feeling inexplicably annoyed. “How long have you been here?”

  “Not long.”

  “Who was that you were talking to?”

  “Just some guy I met while waiting. He’s a financial analyst, whatever that is. He’s got a ski house in Aspen.”

  “How did that happen to come up?”

  “You know, we were just talking about stuff.”

  No, Marta didn’t know. When she talked to strangers, which wasn’t often, they never got past the nice-day stage. With Cassie, things were different, and had been as long as Marta could remember. As teens, whenever she and Cassie were together—at the movies, or the park, or simply walking through the mall—boys would flock around Cassie while ignoring Marta as though she were invisible.

  “I hope you haven’t made plans to see him while you’re here,” Marta said.

  “Why would I do that? I’m here to help you.” Cassie glanced back at the man, who was busily typing a message into his cell phone. “Besides, he’s married.”

  “That hasn’t stopped you before.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes and blew out a long slow breath. “Do you have to pick on me all the time?”

  “I wasn’t and I don’t.” Marta already had mixed feelings about having her sister along, but she also recognized her own hypocrisy. Being married hadn’t stopped her.

  She glanced at the reception desk. “Are we checked in yet?”

  “I was waiting for you.” Cassie brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You made the reservation, remember?”

  A subtle reminder that Marta was footing the bill. “Why don’t you watch our bags while I get the room?”

  Marta handed her credit card to the receptionist, filled out the paperwork, and got their keys. “Fifth floor,” she said, rejoining her sister.

  Cassie wrinkled her nose. “I hope they have an elevator.”

  “It’s around the corner.”

  “So what do we do first?” Cassie asked on the way up to their room.

  “I’ve got an interview with a television news team scheduled for later today. A local affiliate of one of the major networks. I just need to call to confirm.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “But it’s the only sure thing.” And even it might go nowhere. With television news, nothing was guaranteed. “I want to follow up with the places I contacted yesterday. Maybe once they know I’m in town, they’ll be more willing to run a story.”

  Marta opened the drapes while Cassie checked out the bathroom, mini-bar, and television, then plopped into the sole armchair. “Which bed do you want?”

  “The one by the window,” Marta said. She’d already set her purse and carry-on there. “Let’s unpack later. Why don’t you begin contacting the television and radio stations I haven’t heard back from.” Marta handed her the list she’d compiled yesterday. “Agency and phone numbers are listed here. Contact name also, if I got one.”

  Cassie gave the paper a cursory glance. “What should I say?”

  “Whatever it takes to get them to run something about J
amie. A missing kid always gets people’s interest.”

  “Innocent teen led astray by smooth-talking pervert?”

  “Now held against her will,” Marta added.

  “Got it.”

  While Marta called to confirm her afternoon interview, she heard Cassie in the background pitching the story. She was surprisingly articulate and made a persuasive case. Marta felt marginally better about leaving her sister to make calls while she met the news crew.

  *****

  The reporter was a young woman with short dark hair and a cheery, upbeat attitude that seemed inappropriate given the substance of the story. She talked to Marta for a few minutes while the cameraman set up.

  She had suggested they conduct the interview on the waterfront by the Ferry Building, a busy area on the edge of the financial district, near the news station. Normally, she explained, the reporting team would come to her home because the personal setting made the story more compelling. But Marta wasn’t at home and a hotel did not have the same impact.

  Marta had readily agreed but now she worried that the waterfront might be inappropriate, too. This wasn’t a tourism story. Wouldn’t the clear sky and throngs of pedestrians undercut the seriousness of her plea?

  “Is your husband coming?” the reporter asked.

  Marta shook her head. “We decided it was better to divvy up our efforts to find Jamie. He stayed in Sterling.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” the young woman replied in a tone that suggested it made no sense at all.

  Marta was overcome with a sudden case of the jitters. It was her fault Jamie had met Todd. If she messed up now and didn’t come across as desperate enough, would she doom Jamie’s chances of being found?

  Once the cameraman gave the signal and the interview began, Marta grew calmer. She stayed focused on her message—finding Jamie.

  “My seventeen-year-old daughter has been missing for over a week. She managed to call us two days ago and wants to come home, but she’s being held captive by a man we thought was a family friend. He is in his late thirties or early forties and sometimes goes by the names Todd Wilson and Tim Whitaker. My daughter indicated she was being held in a wooded area of northern California but had previously been in the San Francisco Bay Area. She’s five foot five with brown shoulder-length hair.”