Girl in Trouble

by Stacy Claflin

  He paced the room again, and finally glared at his reflection in the mirror above his old dresser. It had only been six years since he'd last lived in this room, but he looked like it had been at least twice that long. The bags under his eyes and the creases around his mouth gave him the illusion of being older than he really was. He felt like he'd aged five years since the previous morning.

  Exhaustion squeezed him. He needed to either sleep or get out there and help find Ariana. Pacing and looking in the mirror were such a waste of time.

  Alex grabbed his phone, climbed under the messed up covers, and set the alarm to go off in a few hours. His mind raced, so he opened an ebook. But that didn't work—he couldn't focus on a single sentence, much less the story. He turned back to social media, hoping that might somehow help.

  Even more notifications. There were all kinds of posts on his profile. Skimming them, they mostly expressed condolences, but he couldn't take the time to read those. He was too raw.

  He went to his feed, but that proved to be a mistake. It was full of articles about Ariana's disappearance, and all of them had more than a handful of comments.

  Sighing, he clicked on one. That was an even bigger mistake.

  How could he let that happen? What a jerk.

  I know, right? How stupid do you get? A text isn't more important than your kid.

  I'd never take my eyes off my girls in a place like that. You're just asking for them to get snatched away.

  Alex Mercer is the worst father.

  I feel so bad for that girl. Even if she does come back alive, she has to deal with that scumbag as her dad.

  He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. It was one thing to read comments like those about other news articles, but it was something else entirely having them directed at him. And yet he couldn't stop reading them.

  Some people are too stupid to live.

  He needs to die.

  If I ever see him in person, Alex better watch out. I'll do to him what the kidnapper is probably doing to Ariana.

  Alex closed the app and threw his phone across the room. He'd read too much. Stupid jerks spouting off empty threats.

  He pulled the pillow over his head, but the comments all ran through his head, practically shouting at him. He sat up and threw the pillow. This was getting him nowhere. If he couldn't sleep, he may as well get out there and do something useful.

  Station

  Alex flung open the door of the police station. A flurry of memories rushed at him from a kidnapping long ago. He and his parents had been dragged down there more times than he could count when Macy was gone.

  He cleared his throat and walked up to the main desk. "I need to talk with someone."

  The tired-looking lady pulled some hair behind her ears and glanced up at him. "About?"

  "Ariana Nakano."

  "You are?"

  "Alex Mercer. Her dad."

  She glanced down at a paper. "That's not the name I have for her dad."

  "I'm her birth dad. She was adopted. I need—"

  "I can help," came a deep male voice behind the desk. A tall man with dark hair and big muscles stepped into view.

  "Detective Fleshman?" Alex asked. "You still work here?"

  "Yes, and I'm captain now. Come on back to my office." He waved Alex down the hall and led him past the interrogation rooms.

  It was a relief to not be going back into those. Seeing them made it feel like he'd sat in them just the other day.

  Fleshman stopped in front of a door with his name on it and motioned for Alex to go in first. Once they were inside, Alex sat in a plush chair across from the desk and Fleshman sat behind the desk and shuffled some papers. "I'd say it's good to see you again, Alex, but when people come in here, it's usually the worst day of their life."

  Alex nodded and raked his fingers through his hair. "Have you guys found anything?"

  Fleshman frowned and shook his head. "We have all our manpower on it and someone is scrubbing local security camera footage and traffic cams to try and find the vehicle. I've put officers on the case around the clock and clearly, I'm here late. We—"

  "Someone should also be looking at the Ball Palace cameras, to see if they can get the guy's face in a shot. They have to have cameras there."

  "We're on that, too. There's more going on than I can list for you at the moment. Everyone has their job, and all the bases are covered."

  "There has to be more we can do," Alex said. "But what?"

  "We're doing everything we can." Fleshman held his gaze. "These first forty-eight hours are crucial. Statistically speaking, they're the most important hours of the case. I've contacted the FBI, and their agents should be here,"—he glanced at the clock—"in a few hours."

  "You're going to let them take over the case?"

  Fleshman shook his head. "This isn't TV. They're here to work with us and give us resources we don't have access to as a small town department."

  "I need to do something." Alex buried his face into his palms.

  "You look like you could use some sleep."

  "It's not happening." Alex glanced up, his mind spinning. "Can I talk to a sketch artist? That would be better than the description I already gave. Or I could try to think of something about the SUV that I didn't before?"

  Fleshman gave him a sad but reassuring expression. "I'll make sure the sketch artist has your number. Officers all over the state are on the lookout for them. We've issued an AMBER Alert, and your daughter's picture is all over the news and social media."

  "It doesn't feel like enough. I need to be doing something."

  "I can only imagine. If it was one of my kids, I'd be coming unglued."

  They stared at each other for a moment. Alex believed him, but he couldn't just go home and sleep.

  "You know, I never forgot about Macy's case. It's stuck with me all these years, and I never forgot about you or your family. I've wondered many times how you're doing. The others, I usually see around town."

  Alex frowned. Maybe he really was a rotten dad. "I'm busy with work."

  A look of regret covered Fleshman's face. "I know how that goes." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, while everyone else is focused on other aspects of the case, I'm looking into other kidnappings around the country for similarities."

  Alex sat up. "Have you found anything?"

  "It's too early to say just yet, but I'm not going to stop until I find something."

  "Too early?" Alex exclaimed. "Isn't the first two days the most crucial? That's what you said."

  "That's why I'm here. My shift ended hours ago."

  Alex stared at him. "It did?"

  Fleshman nodded. "Like you, I have a nine-to-five job, but as soon as I heard about this, I dropped everything and came in. Yes, it's an all-hands-on-deck thing, but we're still not required to work outside of our typical hours."

  "Then why are you?"

  "Like I said, I never forgot you or your family. I'd just had my first child when Macy went missing, and it hit me hard. I couldn't imagine anything happening to my Ava. I've always remembered you. In a way, your family has kept me going in this job—it's rough at times. But I know I'm making a difference."

  Alex gave a slight nod, not sure what to say. It was strange to have the tough cop level with him like that.

  "I'm doing everything I can, and I'll stay here all weekend if I need to. These hours really are crucial."

  "What about your family?"

  Fleshman shifted some papers around on his desk. "My kids live with their mom. I'm free to focus all my efforts here."

  Alex gave him a double-take. They had more in common than he'd thought—they were both separated from their children's mother, and Fleshman probably didn't see his kids as much as he should, either. Alex felt overwhelmed with gratitude for the captain's concern. In fact, he had to blink back tears he didn't want the other man to see. "Is there anything I can do?"

  "I wouldn't mind some real coffee. The stuff here is pretty stale."
>
  He was working outside his normal hours to find Ariana and all he wanted was coffee? Alex fumbled out of the chair. "What do you want? Mocha? Latte? What else is there?"

  "I usually just get a drip coffee, black, but a mocha sounds great right now."

  "Sure thing."

  "Hey, thanks. And when you get back here, just tell them I'm expecting you."

  Alex nodded and hurried out of the station with renewed hope. It wasn't much, but it was something. He climbed into his car and made his way to the nearest coffee shop.

  It was, and even better, almost nobody was there. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing anyone. Some of those people could have been the ones writing horrible comments about him online—there had been so many more that he hadn't read. He just hadn't been able to stomach it. He wasn't sure he ever could.

  Alex reached into his backseat and found a baseball cap. He wasn't going to make it easy for anyone to recognize him, and around here, everyone already knew him. He'd been forever branded as the brother of the kidnapped girl years ago. Now his daughter…

  He sighed and went inside, ordering two mochas without making eye contact with the barista. He even gave her a twenty and told her to keep the change.

  While he stood waiting for the coffees, a group of ladies came and whispered.

  "That's him."

  "No, it's not."

  "Yeah, it is. My friend had a crush on him in high school. That's definitely Alex."

  "What's that lowlife doing here? His daughter's missing and he's getting a latte?"

  Alex gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone, pretending to text. It was just gossip. People would move onto something more interesting soon enough. No, it wouldn't be soon enough.

  "Do you think he really had something to do with it?"

  "I don't know. He doesn't look like he got any sleep. Poor guy."

  "Poor guy? Are you kidding? If it weren't for that loser, little Ariana would be sleeping in her bed now."

  Alex's anger nearly bubbled to the surface. It took all of his self-control not to turn around and tell those two cows off.

  A barista called his name and put the two mochas on the counter.

  One of the whisperer's gasped. "It is him."

  "Told you."

  Alex grabbed the mochas and glared at the two women, making eye contact with each of them. "Would you grow up? Yes, I'm dad of the missing girl. No, it wasn't my fault—a man grabbed her and put her into his car. I couldn't stop him. This coffee,"—he held up one of the cups—"is for a cop working the case. If you have any more questions, next time, ask them to my face!" He stared down one and then the other.

  Both looked away and moved from him, hiding behind a shelf of seasonal coffee mugs for sale.

  Alex swore loud enough for them to hear and stormed out of the coffee shop.

  Rest

  Kellen McKay sank into the white leather couch and rubbed his fiancée's back. "Get some sleep, Zo."

  Zoey spun around and glared at him. "Sleep? Ariana's missing!"

  He kissed her temple, reminding himself to stay patient. He focused on a framed poster of Paris at sunset. "I know, but you have to rest."

  "For what?" She grabbed a silver throw pillow and squeezed it.

  He took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. "Someone said something about a press conference tomorrow. You'll have an easier time fending off the questions if you're not exhausted." He massaged her shoulders.

  "I think people would understand if I'm not at the top of my game." She rose from the couch and paced the room, stopping only to pick up a picture of Ariana.

  Kellen stifled a yawn. He would pass out if he didn't get some sleep soon. It had been a horribly long night, and neither of them would do any good in the state they were in.

  He got up and put his arm around her, not saying anything for a few moments. Obviously, there was nothing he could say to make the situation better. He didn't want to give her false hope and say they would find Ariana. Who knew what the outcome would be?

  "She knows how much you love her," Kellen finally said.

  Zoey leaned her head against his shoulder and sobbed. He led her to the bedroom and helped her onto the bed without a word. She whimpered, her only protest to lying down, then rolled onto her side and trembled.

  Kellen's heart broke for her. He slid off his shoes and wrapped an arm around her, lying down, also. He could feel the picture frame still in her hands. He moved her long, thick hair away from his face before rubbing her shoulders. He fought to keep his eyes open until Zoey's breathing turned into the soft, rhythmic breathing of sleep.

  He lightened his touch as he continued rubbing until he could stop without waking her. Her breathing grew deeper, and finally, he relaxed. Kellen rested his arm over her waist and closed his eyes.

  Sleep didn't overtake him as he'd hoped. His mind spun out of control over the events of the long night. He still felt the sting of shock from Zoey announcing that she wanted custody of Ariana. He'd been stunned speechless at her parents' table. They were getting married, but she hadn't even bothered to talk with him about that before bringing it up with her parents—who had been equally surprised by the news.

  Zoey had always told him that her parents would always be solely responsible for Ariana. That had been their deal, and it was also what Kellen expected going into marriage. He knew Ariana would be part of their lives, but he was not ready for becoming an instant parent. He knew that much about himself.

  Kellen had had no time to digest the news when they heard about Ariana's abduction, which was by far a worse slap. He was worried sick—he'd really grown close to the girl over the time he'd spent with Zoey. Ariana was sweet and charming, almost to a fault. She'd managed to win him over quickly, and Kellen had never had any interest in kids. Not even with his own nieces and nephews. He'd always felt awkward around kids until Ariana.

  Guilt stung at him for having been so upset over Zoey's announcement now that Ariana was missing. He felt like the world's biggest jerk. He would do whatever he could to help find her.

  He'd already spoken with his parents who had promised to spring for the best attorneys money could buy. It was a mystery how lawyers could help find a missing child, but he wasn't going to turn down their help.

  Kellen's thoughts grew fuzzy and slow, and finally, his mind tumbled into a restless sleep.

  He woke to an empty bed and the sounds of a shower. Zoey had covered him with a blanket. He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

  The sun shone brightly through the blinds and he felt rested—well, more rested than before falling asleep. He still felt like he'd been hit by a semi-truck. His stomach tightened as he thought about Ariana. Ugly, bloody images flashed before his mind. As a teenager, he'd been obsessed with horror movies, and now they haunted him.

  Kellen got up and tried to shake the thoughts away, but they wouldn't leave. Bloody knives, ropes, and bodies were all he could see. Along with that sweet face and big brown eyes.

  He tightened one hand into a fist and clenched it. He punched his other palm as hard as he could. That little girl was the last person on earth who deserved anything bad.

  Zoey came into the bedroom, wearing a thick bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair. "Are you okay?"

  Kellen clenched his jaw. "Just thinking about what I'd like to do to the kidnapper."

  She frowned and nodded. "I don't have any messages from the police. I guess that means they haven't found anything new."

  "I'm going to check my phone and see if any of the attorneys called."

  "On a Saturday?"

  "They jump when my parents call."

  "I need to do something." She leaned over and rubbed the towel over her hair. "We passed out fliers when Macy was missing. I think I need to make some."

  At least that would keep her busy. "You do that, and I'll make some calls." Kellen went out to the living room and found his phone on the coffee table. He had a couple missed calls from the attorney's offic
e.

  They'd never steered his parents or siblings wrong. Hopefully, he would be able to say the same for himself.

  He returned one of the calls, and went straight through to the lawyer's office.

  "Kellen," he answered. "I hear you've had a terrible night."

  "The worst." Kellen flung himself onto the sofa and played with the fringe of a decorative pillow.

  "I'm afraid it's going to get worse."

  He sat upright. "What do you mean?"

  "I've got the inside track that they're looking at you as a suspect."

  "Me? What?" His pulse raced through him like an out-of-control locomotive.

  "The police say nobody saw you at the time of the abduction. Where were you?"

  Kellen's mouth dropped. He'd gone home for more trash bags because Zoey's parents had run out.

  "Kellen?"

  The room spun around him. "I went home. They needed garbage bags."

  "Did anyone see you?"

  "I… I… No."

  "You'd better get down here. Now. And you need to tell me everything."

  Home

  Ariana woke with a start. Everything was black, and her arms were pinned back behind her. She tried to move them, but her wrists were tied together. The more she struggled, the more everything hurt. Her ankles were also bound.

  Wherever she was, it had a funny smell. Like a strange mixture of sweet perfume and old stuff.

  She continued struggling against her restraints. The mattress beneath her creaked and groaned.

  Where was she? Ariana couldn't remember anything after being shoved into the car. There had been a bad smelling cloth and then… what?

  A door squeaked and made the noise of opening on top of carpet.

  Ariana held still.

  What was going to happen next?

  Her heart beat so hard she was afraid it would break out of her chest. Surely the person opening the door could hear it. It had never been louder.

  "You're awake," said the familiar masculine voice. It was the man who had said he'd found the pumpkin king.

  He hadn't.

  "How do you feel?"

  Ariana didn't reply. Maybe if she stayed perfectly still, he would think she was still asleep and leave her alone. But then her stomach rumbled, giving her away.