Given New Worlds

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Given New Worlds Page 35

by Rachael Sircar


  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED

  ONCE they’d passed through the whirlwind of cameras and shouting voices lining the exterior of the venue, Abby, Veena, and Sean were escorted to the dining room, which was already filled to capacity. Security had advised that they arrive fifteen minutes after the event had started, and they’d done them one better by arriving a half hour after the meal had been served.

  Sean and Abby followed Director Schmidt’s orders and worked the room with Dr. Bing and his wife. According to Mrs. Bing, ‘Seanigail’ would be the hit of the party and she was beside herself with delight that they’d taken time out of their busy schedules to come to the event. She didn’t mention the fact that Dr. Bing had made it a mandatory requirement for Abby’s internship. She received a squeeze of the hand from Sean and was once more overwhelmed at the fact that God had provided her the gift of this man amidst all they’d been through.

  The crowd was respectful and pleasant, refraining from taking pictures or asking for autographs. Occasionally, Abby would see a camera flash, but it was typically people taking group photos. After an hour, they managed to escape the crowds and find a table in the corner of the room, but it didn’t take long for them to be discovered again.

  “Sean Court?” A woman made her way to their table. “I’m Dr. Maggie Kuvuruga. Neurology. From upstate New York,” Abby tried to place the name, but over three hundred invites had been accepted and she’d found that she’d been unable to track all of them.

  Sean, of course, shook her hand, plastered on his winning smile, and listened politely.

  “I’ve read that you’re diving into the neurology department now. I’d be happy to give you a few pointers.”

  That seemed to brighten Sean up and he shrugged as Dr. Kuvuruga took a seat next to him and began pounding him with questions about his internship.

  Once Sean began falling into the doctor’s flattering conversation, Abby excused herself to get another glass of wine. As she was standing in line at the bar, Veena sidled up next to her. “I just saw a woman wearing your dress.”

  “You’re kidding.” Abby was surprised. It was last season and a few thousand dollars beyond what doctors normally wore to a conference.

  “She isn’t half as pretty as you though. Looks like a strung-out crack ho. I could see her jonesing as she lurked in the back hallway.”

  “Veena. That’s not nice.”

  “I got a picture of her. Your mom is going to be pissed if she finds out. I bet you twenty bucks that your seamstress ratted you out after increasing the bust-line for those knockers you’re displaying.”

  “How much have you had to drink?” Abby asked. Veena was normally quiet and shy around crowds, but her tongue had been loosened by something - and it wasn’t Dr. Otieno’s jokes.

  “Just a couple of these,” Veena said, holding up a glass of some sort of fruity mixture. “It’s called a Vino Vaccine. One of the waiters was bringing them around.”

  “Sounds gross.”

  “Totally not.”

  “Maybe you should go sit down,” Abby said, pointing to the corner where Sean was still deep in conversation with Dr. Kuvuruga. “You can rescue Sean from that woman.”

  “Hm. He doesn’t look like he minds the lecture he’s receiving,” Veena laughed and sipped at her drink. “I think you’re jealous.”

  “Go sit down, Veena. Before you embarrass yourself in front of three hundred potential employers.”

  Veena got the hint and walked towards the back table while Abby ordered a Chardonnay.

  Just as the bartender handed Abby the glass, Dr. Otieno appeared next to her.

  “Miss Jamie,” he said, his voice authoritative, but a hint of nervousness within. His speech was clear as always, and Abby was glad he hadn’t partaken of whatever highly concentrated drink Veena had gotten herself into. “I am having word with security officials. I am being advised that I must remove you immediately.”

  Abby glanced over to where Veena was animatedly talking at the back table. Dr. Kuvuruga was seemingly not pleased about the interruption, but it was enough to distract Sean into glancing over at Abby. She motioned to Sean, trying to communicate urgency. He got the hint and excused himself as Abby followed Dr. Otieno towards a side door.

  “They are telling me that a security car is available for you,” he said, his dark skin damp with nervous perspiration.

  “I need to wait for Sean,” Abby explained, glancing behind her as they swiftly walked out of the ballroom towards west concourse.

  “Yes. Of course…”

  Dr. Otieno’s voice was interrupted when a fire alarm began to sound throughout the building. Abby pressed herself against the wall and watched as people streamed out of the ballroom.

  “This is not good,” Dr. Otieno said. “It is not safe. We should get you to the security as requested.”

  Abby tried to crane her neck and step forward, looking for Sean, but the streaming rush of hundreds of people heading to fire exits was making her progress seem like she was swimming upstream.

  “Get the hell out of the way,” a man said, as he pushed her back towards the wall. Another woman almost toppled over Abby as she drunkenly made her way towards the exit.

  Abby glanced over to where Dr. Otieno was also being jostled by the moving crowd. “Okay. Let’s go,” she said, deciding to let Sean find her when they got out of the crowd.

  They made their way towards a less populated hallway. Only several patrons were taking this route, so Abby had a chance to look back for Sean. He was most likely being tossed about on a sea of surgeons. A spike of fear stood Abby’s neck hairs straight up and she glanced around for any of the security detail that she could go to. Unfortunately, there were currently none in view. It didn’t matter. The car would be secure, and Director Schmidt’s men would be able to contact Sean and bring him to wherever they were going.

  Before they reached the exit, two of the security personnel greeted them. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll take her from here. I suggest you get yourself somewhere safe as well. Would you like for me to arrange transportation for you?”

  Abby was pleased that Director Schmidt had hired someone kind enough to care about Dr. Otieno. Normally the security guards didn’t give one thought to anyone but their charge.

  “Oh no. I will be fine,” he said.

  Abby waved goodbye and allowed the guard to guide her out the door to a waiting limousine. It was large and pretentious, very different from the cars that normally hauled security personnel from one location to another, but she knew that they were trying to lay low in this particular situation, and if that meant blending in with famous surgeons and their grandiose personalities, so be it.

  But when the car door closed behind her, Abby realized her mistake.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE

  FABRIC dropped over Abby’s head, and she felt it tighten around her neck. She could sense her throat begin to spasmodically close in fear and knew she had very little time left in which she would have the ability to speak. Thick hands had her arms pinned painfully behind her back and directed her attention towards the individual sitting in front of her.

  “Hello Abigail Ellwood. It’s so good to meet with you again.” His words were slow and coiling, as if they were slithering towards her, looking for the perfect moment to strike. Memories of the attack at Mike Minck’s house shoved hot pokers into her brain as the voice penetrated areas she hadn’t allowed herself to wallow in for years.

  “Lance,” she whispered, unable to speak the name out loud.

  “Yeah, right,” he laughed. She knew it wasn’t his real name. They’d all known. But without knowledge of who he truly was, she could only refer to him as the name that represented all that was horrifying in this world.

  A strong shiver began to take over Abby’s body and she wondered how long it would take for shock to settle in - probably not long at the rate her body processes were changing. She focused on regulating her breathing, but whatever they’d put over her head was
distracting, and she couldn’t focus. She began to feel nauseous and wondered if Lance would be mad when she vomited in his limousine.

  “You know what you are, Abigail?”

  She shook her head under the bag.

  “You’re our little red herring. You know what else you are?”

  She didn’t bother communicating a reply. These were clearly rhetorical questions.

  “You’re a fucking thorn in my side. Now, I have a message that I’d like you to communicate to your dad. Tell him that he’d better stay on his toes the next couple months. Your birthday is coming up and I’ve got a special surprise for the whole family. Oh, and as far as your little boy toy, Sean Court goes. You can tell him to fuck himself.”

  Abby felt Lance’s hand close around her throat. “You can’t talk, can you?” he laughed. “I am so very happy to take credit for that fine work.”

  Struggling to pull away from his grip, she felt hands on her arms shove her forward again. The sickening knowledge of what could happen in the next few moments churned in her chest. She prayed Psalm 140 over and over with each muscle of her body.

  Rescue me, O Lord, from evil men; Preserve me from violent men.

  Lance’s grip tightened on her neck and she sensed everything around her begin to grow fuzzy.

  “I’m gonna give you an early birthday gift, but it’s a surprise, so I don’t want you to open it til later. Let’s put you down for a little nap. Nighty night.”

  ~~~

  “Here she is. I found her.”

  Abby didn’t recognize the voice.

  Pain greeted her as gummy eyelids lifted from drug-baked corneas. She wasn’t in bed, but instead sprawled uncomfortably on something hard. The walls were… concrete and metal? She reached her hand out to push herself up, but stinging pain etched into her hip and arms. Laying back down, Abby looked up and noted that it was a ceiling of muted stars. She was between two buildings, in some sort of alley.

  A man was kneeling next to her, but it was unclear who he was through the haze of clouded vision. Perhaps one of Director Schmidt’s men? Maybe one of Lance’s? She considered running away but escaping into the nothingness was so much better.

  Yes. That’s where she would go. Back to the nothing.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO

  “BEH. Wukup. Now!”

  What time was it? Where was she?

  Her father’s next sentence was a warbled mix of slurred words that culminated in the message - You’d better get yourself together or I’m going to ground you until Christmas.

  Abby let the fuzz fade away and took in her surroundings. She was in her bedroom. It was daytime, and sunlight was playing with the dust motes that danced in its rays.

  “What happened?” Abby tried to ask, but it came out in silence.

  Dad lifted his hand from where he sat in his wheelchair next to her bed, almost dropping the iPad as he handed it to Abby. She took it from his shaky hand and tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her hip. Not muscle pain, but a surface injury, as if she’d been cut. She lifted the sleeves of the nightgown that she was wearing and saw that bruises and cuts had turned her arms into a blue, green, and red mosaic.

  She tapped her unvoiced question into the iPad and handed it to Dad, who in turn pounded out a message back to her.

  You were taken by car with stolen tag. Looking at a few leads.

  Abby tried to think through the muddle in her mind, but it was like walking in gravy. She began to type into the iPad when a knock sounded at the door.

  Dad grunted for the door to open, and Abby saw that Sean was there, a frown covered his lips and his eyes were rimmed in red. Abby was pretty sure she could guess at his emotions. He’d failed to protect her once again.

  Looking down at her finger, Abby noted her engagement ring was gone. Had Sean taken it off? Did he feel he was no longer able to live up to his own expectations as her husband? She called to him, but only a faint whisper came out. No words.

  Director Schmidt entered after Sean, who positioned himself in front of the window and stared at nothing, likely thinking too hard. Abby went to push herself off the bed to go to him, but once again a sharp pain drilled into her hip forcing her to immobilize until she had a better idea of what it was. If there were stitches, moving around would only cause them to rip open, and that was definitely not an area that she wanted people to be looking at - especially her dad and Director Schmidt.

  “Miss Ellwood,” Schmidt began, looking down at the notes on his cell phone. “Let me fill you in on what we’ve got so far. While you were retrieving a drink from the bar, Mr. Court and Miss Singh were being detained by a Dr. Maggie Kuvuruga. We’ve since found that this name was not listed on any of the seating charts. Dr. Otieno was questioned as well. He was approached by several men posing as security, able to convince him that you needed to be evacuated. We have the interaction on video and consider Dr. Otieno innocent. However, we were unable to determine the identity of the fake security personnel from the videos. They must have ascertained the location of the cameras prior to the event.”

  Schmidt slid his finger through his cell. Most likely attempting to determine which tidbits were considered need to know. At this point, Abby didn’t mind information being kept from her. That’s not what she wanted to fill the empty hole within her. For that, she needed Sean. But he wasn’t engaged in the conversation, only staring out the window as if the carnival had come into town and he didn’t want to miss a moment. She knew he was forcing himself to keep her out of his peripheral vision. She could see in the way his eyes would flick occasionally when she moved her hand or tipped her head in acknowledgement of Schmidt’s information.

  “The car you got into hasn’t been identified as of yet. We’re still working on that,” Schmidt continued. “There was also a decoy. A woman was wearing the same dress and had a similar hairstyle to yours. When the fire alarm went off, the decoy distracted several of our men as well as Staff Sgt. Court in the pursuit. She’s been detained but seems to know nothing. She was offered heroin and money in exchange for showing up at the event wearing the dress. We’re still following that lead.”

  Schmidt rubbed his chin and glanced at Sean before continuing.

  “I take it that you’re currently unable to speak. Would you be willing to write up a statement for us?”

  Abby pointed towards the laptop on her desk and Schmidt retrieved it while Dad grunted and complained about the slow investigation processes in the case.

  She rested the computer on her lap and leaned back in a way that would be the least painful to her hip. She noted that both Dad and Schmidt gave each other glances. They knew what was wrong with her hip but weren’t saying a word. That couldn’t be good.

  While the computer warmed up, Abby closed her eyes and concentrated on her body parts, wondering what else Lance had touched. Her stomach recoiled at the thought. There was pain in her back shoulder, most likely from laying on the concrete by the dumpster. How long had she been there? How had they found her? All questions she would ask as soon as the old laptop booted up. Her head hurt, but it was an internal headache pain from whatever medication they’d used to put her to sleep. Of course her arms hurt. She remembered them being held right before she’d been choked. There was the unexplainable stinging pain in her hip, as well as some pain in her feet from the high heels that she’d worn, but other than that - nothing.

  Abby opened her eyes and saw that Sean was finally looking at her. His shoulders hung dejectedly off his body and he was wearing that look, the one that told her how disappointed he was in himself. She lifted her hand to him, but he only turned back towards the window.

  At the sound of the computer having finally warmed up, Abby began to type.

  Dr. Otieno told me that security had advised him to get me and bring me to a waiting car. We were walking that way when the fire alarm sounded. We got to the exit and they offered to get Dr. Otieno a ride, but he refused. The security men opened the car door and I went
in. It was my own fault, I never should have left Sean.

  She deleted the last sentence and continued typing.

  The man in the car. It was

  A wave of nausea hit Abby like a freight train. Sean must have noticed because he was immediately at her side lifting her hair from her face and holding a hospital vomit bag. Once she’d deposited what seemed like her entire stomach into the bag, Schmidt handed over a damp towel and Sean wiped her cheeks.

  “I would come back later,” Schmidt said. “But time is of the essence. I’m sure you understand.”

  Abby nodded her head and once again tried to talk, but her voice only caught in her throat along with the vestiges of vomit still settled in her esophagus. She continued to type into her computer.

  It was Lance. But that’s not his real name. Another man was in the car too. He put something over my head and held my arms.

  Abby thought about rephrasing the last statement. Sean and Dad wouldn’t like hearing about her being abused. But then, the evidence was already on her arms. She needed to keep going.

  Lance wanted me to give you a message. I can’t remember it exactly, but he said that my birthday was coming up and Dad had better stay on his toes the next few months. And he said that Sean should fuck himself.

  Knowing that Dad wouldn’t like the language, she deleted the sentence, but could see that Sean’s eyes hadn’t missed what she’d typed from where he sat next to her on the bed.

  Schmidt and Dad asked several more questions, and Abby answered them as well as she could, but the nausea and confusion weren’t helping her mind settle. Eventually they left, and she watched Sean as he fiddled with the cord to her bedside clock.

  She typed another sentence and motioned for Sean to read it.

  You smell like whiskey and cigars.

  “It’s bourbon and cigarettes,” he said, then pushed the laptop away. Abby winced when it bumped the painful area on her hip. The injury was located just within the hip bone, right where the lining of her panties would sit, if she were wearing any. She typed into the computer again, hoping to draw Sean out of his self-inflicted misery.

 

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