A Running Heart

by Kendra Vasquez

  As if he read her thoughts, Charlie said, “He would’ve heard about it with the nine o’clock news anyway.”

  “You mean I’m a news bulletin now?” She dropped back into the chair. Her eyes searched out the air. “As of now,” a memory sliced through her calling up an older newscast: “Police have no idea toward the cause of this devastating accident.”

  Amanda started to shake, a cold sweat trickled over her skin. I have to get out of here.

  Adam stepped into the conversation. “The cops’ll probably send some of the security footage to the networks. Maybe the public can help I.D. the culprit. We’ll get this guy, Amanda.”

  “Great,” she said, far from the relief he had meant for her to feel. That guy knew too much for the police to find him. She had to get to him first. He couldn’t hold this over her head forever. She’d figure something out, once she knew who the guy was.

  The two policemen approached the front entrance. Laura stood and rounded the glass wall to unlock the door. From inside the office, the others watched Laura escort them in.

  “Ma’am.” The junior officer, taller with a lot more brown in his neatly trimmed hair than the other officer who possessed a stout stature and gray hair, nodded to Laura.

  “Amanda Hudson?” The senior asked, assuming correctly that the woman in the chair, surrounded by support staff, was the victim.

  Couldn’t put much past him, huh? “Yes,” Amanda answered. Her heart had begun adding another beat to each second. A voice, her father’s, sounded in her head: “Don’t talk about it, ever. You can’t trust anyone.”

  “Bill Johnson.” The senior officer said, introducing himself before gesturing to the tall rookie at his right. “And this is John Billbeck.”

  She nodded. “Hello.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  Her hands turned the coffee cup, skin that had been scoured by the street less than an hour ago dragged at the Styrofoam. She shook her head. “No.”

  “Then may we ask you a few questions?”

  She nodded.

  Except Adam, all the others stepped out of the room. The senior officer pulled up a chair while John pulled out a note pad and leaned back against the wall behind Charlie’s desk.

  Amanda quenched a sudden thirst with lukewarm, employee-grade coffee. Bill put his elbows on his knees and leaned in. “Tell us what happened.”

  She walked them through the attack from when she first saw the kidnapper squatting between the cars to when she stepped—fell out—of the trunk, meeting the pavement. “. . . I guess from there my co-workers spotted me. They helped me get where I am now.” Having to lie to police officers.

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  “He told me to get into the trunk.” Wasn’t my idea.

  “What about after that?”

  “He, uh . . .” Referred to my shady past that I don’t want you guys, the justice men, looking into. “There was a row of seats between us. We didn’t carry on much from there.”

  “Any idea why he took you only to bring you back?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he thought he might need directions. Or maybe, I am a technician. Maybe he wanted me to check out a noise back there.”

  Bill sat back and sighed. “Maybe you should come back with us.”

  “What?” She sat up, ramrod straight and wholly tensed.

  “You’ve been through a lot.”

  “That’s right, I have.” Not including this second interrogation. “You have your report, and a security video, and I’m tired. I won’t be leaving town. There’s nothing else I can say about it.”

  Sitting cop lifted his brow. “Are you sure?”

  She looked inward as if searching her memories. “Yeah, I’m sure. There’s nothing left.”

  “So in the end, this guy just wanted to take you for a nice, quiet ride?”

  “If that’s what you think. It’s not my job to figure out why.”

  “Listen, Miss Hudson, what happened—”

  “—was Grand Theft Auto. And you’re the ones who find the car, right?” She took turns in meeting each set of eyes in the room. Headlights flashed across the office as another car pulled up. Amanda recognized the hatchback. “Looks like my ride’s here.”

  They stood, and Johnson said, “Thank you, Miss Hudson. If we learn anything about this attacker, we’ll let you know.”

  “Thank you, officers.” She tried for sincere, not sure how successful she was before she turned.

  “Amanda,” Adam said.

  She looked back, and his soft eyes captured her gaze. Warmth grew inside her.

  “If you need anything . . .”

  She nodded and dropped her eyes. Her mind jumped onto another track: His shoulders were broad, weren’t they?

  There was a knock on the door, and Rebecca poked her head into the office.

  Amanda smiled, this one feeling more genuine than most lately. “Hey, Rebbie.” She could relax to a small degree now.

  “Amanda,” Rebecca breathed as she stepped inside.

  Amanda waited as her cousin’s eyes assessed the damage.

  “You’re okay,” Rebecca decided.

  “I’m fantastic. Can we go now?”

  “Ma’am,” the junior officer said to Rebecca.

  Her expressive gray eyes widened. Amanda followed them to the junior officer. It must be the heavy brown hair and the gun at his trim waist.

  “Well, gentleman,” Amanda started. “It’s been fun. C’mon Rebbie. Let’s go.”

  Rebecca nodded as Amanda passed by and exited.

  “Officers,” Rebecca said.

  They nodded. The junior officer added, “Have a nice night.”

  Amanda popped back in. “She will. Come on, Rebbie.”

  “Yes. Home. Let’s get you there.” Rebecca followed as her cousin led the way out.

  Finally.

  Amanda stepped out into the night air. Rebecca had left the car running, and Amanda went right for the passenger seat and was getting closer to a bedroom of solitude, her place to do some real thinking. She caught sight of herself in the door mirror. Her ponytail needed serious attention—half of her dirty blond hair had been snagged out of it. A spot of blue and purple colored her jaw line. She touched the bruise and wondered if that was what had caused Adam to look so furious.

  Rebecca came around to the driver’s side of the red, three-door Civic.

  Amanda leaned back into the cloth seat and closed her eyes.

  ~ ~ ~

  With the clutch pedal pressed in, Rebecca shifted into reverse and took the opportunity to fully assess her cousin while her right hand went to the back of the passenger seat in order to check before pulling out of the spot.

  Amanda’s up-tilted face was traced by the parking lot’s lights. Dark circles had settled under her eyes, and her face had lost a lot of the cheery color she normally showed the world so it would turn a blind eye.

  Rebecca shook her head. Her cousin needed a break. If only she ever took one.

  She went back to maneuvering the car from the parking lot. In first gear, she touched the gas pedal and climbed the speed bump, then merged into traffic.

  When they hit their first red light, Rebecca said, “That was intense.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Rebecca turned on her signal and looked to Amanda. “So . . . you’re going to be all right, right?”

  “You bet.”

  “It’s incredible, what you just went through.”

  Amanda opened an eye. “Yeah, I heard something like that already.” She nodded at the light. “It’s green.”

  Rebecca turned back to the road. “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” Amanda re-settled in the seat as she adde
d, “Even without A/C in this thing, it sure beats being a piece of luggage. Why couldn’t he have just used those bungee cords to strap me to the back seat?”

  Rebecca held onto her questions, not wanting to push, but mentally willing her cousin to continue.

  Littleton’s main street passed by, walled in with old trees and independent shops. This was one of the highest patrolled suburbs of Denver, Rebecca considered. Why would someone risk it? The guy hadn’t got anything out of it. On her way to the dealership she’d listened to a news bulletin saying the cops had found the stolen car. No sign of the assailant.

  Once Amanda’s silence carried on, Rebecca shared her internal thought, wanting her cousin to open up to her. “Why would anyone do that?”

  They crossed Santa Fe Drive and the cottonwood-clothed South Platte River. Rush hour had abated two hours ago allowing Rebecca to concentrate on her passenger.

  “He wasn’t ‘anyone,’” Amanda answered.

  What? Amanda knew him? “Who was he?” Rebecca pressed as Amanda had returned to a closed-mouth position. Rebecca was feeling well-baited. It was her cousin’s way.

  “He was . . .”

  Rebecca stared at the road, not seeing. Her hearing went hyper-sensitive as she wished that Amanda was about to let her help.

  Amanda sighed. “Someone who wanted a car.”

  Relying on old habits, Rebecca’s limbs slowed the car and turned it into a parking lot off of Federal while Rebecca, her conscious self, wrestled with a measurable letdown. Twenty-four hours, and her cousin had gotten into serious trouble.

  With her sensible sandals and beige blouse over brown capris, Rebecca attempted to convince herself properly armed for facing her cousin and her distrust of anyone in heels and a skirt. However, she faced a losing battle.

  “Home sweet home,” she said, deflated.

  Amanda turned to her, smiled. “Thanks, Reb.”

  Her cousin still needed her. Under the glow of the dome lamp, Rebecca saw it in the exhausted-but-relieved expression on Amanda’s face. Light scratches marred one rounded cheek. Dirt had been dusted across her forehead. Her uniform top had taken the brunt of the skid across pavement.

  “Anytime, babe.”

  After all, who else would be there for her? Being an only child, Amanda had no other kin her age. Rebecca thought about her own sister, Cassie. Sure, there might’ve been the urge to strangle someone when they were both under the same roof. They’d fight for use of the bathroom, computer, or television.

  Now, out of the house, Rebecca still had her family ties. Having someone there for you was sometimes all one needed to know.

  Rebecca breathed deep then stepped out of the small, three-door hatchback. She took the stairs toward their apartment, heard Amanda’s boot-clomping step close behind her.

  Inside the entryway, Amanda collapsed in a pink lawn chair, started unlacing her boots.

  Rebecca slipped out of her sandals and went to the kitchen. She dumped her keys on the plastic countertop. Needing to do something productive with her hands, she grabbed a plastic cup from a cabinet then orange juice from the fridge. She eyed Amanda as she poured. “You want me to skip class tomorrow? Stick it out here with you?”

  “I work tomorrow, Rebbie. You know that.”

  “But after what you’ve just been through—”

  Amanda dropped her foot and sighed. “Look, forget about it, right?” She smiled. “I can’t let those guys think I’m some sort of girl.”

  “C’mon Amanda.” Rebecca returned the juice carton to the fridge. “I’m your cousin and roommate, not some flippant cop. I know there’s more to this. What are you keeping from us, from me?”

  Amanda sighed. “Well, I might have left out . . .”

  Rebecca eased into attention. “Yes?”

  “The car’s interior was gray.”

  Rebecca dropped her shoulders and released a breath. She’d been baited, again. Closing her eyes, she tried, “Amanda, this man kidnapped you. Then, several minutes later, he was kind enough to drop you off at the same place, unharmed. What happened in between? Lay off this smile-and-everything’s-okay routine. Let me help.”

  Amanda shot out of the chair. “How? How can you possibly help? It’s not your past he knows about.”

  Rebecca set her cup on the counter. “Your past?” She hoped to build on the slip before Amanda slammed her guard down.

  Instead, Amanda studied the ceiling. “Well, he sure doesn’t know my future.” She sighed and dropped back into the chair. “I don’t know, Rebbie. I mean, he had to ask me my name. Is it really my past he’s talking about?”

  Rebecca searched out her own too-brief knowledge of Amanda’s past. She gazed unfocused at the blank taupe wall behind her cousin. Could it be . . . but why would someone kidnap a person because her mom walked out on her? How about the still unclear cause for Amanda’s dad taking her from her childhood town to start a repair shop in another town? The two could be related. Maybe too many family memories lingered in Bayfield.

  “Are you done yet?” Rebecca’s gaze shot to Amanda’s pale-blue one. Amanda glared at her. “What have you come up with? Look, he’s crazy, Reb. Everyone has a past. I’m done.” She rose and stepped into the living area.

  “Just like that, huh?” Rebecca tried baiting, “strong enough to face the world alone?”

  Amanda whipped around and fired back, “Stop it, Rebecca. Stop trying to play substitute mother. Just because you have one doesn’t mean I can’t get along without. I don’t want you in those,” her lip curled, “high heels.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened, lost without moving. Had she been right? Amanda was certainly up-in-arms about her past. What would interest a car thief about a girl who had abandonment issues? Rebecca opened her mouth then closed it as her cousin maintained her piercing glare.

  Rebecca wasn’t trying for a mom role. Instead, Amanda needed a friend, but Rebecca had lost her opportunity for the night. She turned back into the kitchen. “Okay, cuz. Whatever you say.” She rinsed out the cup and set it in the drain pan.

  Hearing cushion springs compress, she readied herself. She wouldn’t leave Amanda. Approaching the back of the couch, she offered, “I’m still your cousin, Amanda. And I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  “Right.”

  Rebecca sighed. “Sleep well. You need the rest.”

  She entered her bedroom, dropped her back against the door. What else could she have done?

  Amanda had let slip that her mother’s leaving still affected her. Rebecca had picked at a wound she could only try to imagine. But she didn’t want to pretend her own parents weren’t a loving couple. Amanda’s dad, Jim, was her uncle, and Rebecca’s father, Jason Hudson, had chosen the automotive road, too. He sold heavy machinery. Her mom did research for an agricultural company in Fort Collins. And along with Rebecca’s sister, they’d formed a complete family unit.

  She couldn’t tell Amanda she understood. She’d no idea where her cousin was coming from, or how to relate. But wherever she went, Rebecca was willing to join her, to help her.

  She pushed off the door and went to her oak desk, clicked on the green-shaded lamp, eyed the open textbooks. One page compared hydrocarbon chains propyl and isopropyl. Another was opened to a page of The Chrysanthemums by Steinbeck, notes tucked underneath. She dropped her head and took a breath, released it. No use in trying to focus now.

  Reading facts wouldn’t bury her emotions this time even if reading books was easier than reading people.

  She clicked off the miniature desk lamp then changed into a long t-shirt. Climbing into bed, she admitted Amanda could be right—sometimes problems were easiest to deal with by putting them off.

  Amanda had wanted to downplay her mother leaving her, like she'd wanted people to forget the man who’d taken her.
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  How could Rebecca possibly forget though? Things could’ve turned out much worse. The kind of man who takes property and people like they have the same value had the potential to hurt with the same disregard. Amanda wasn’t dumb. She knew the danger.

  If the guy tried anything else, and Amanda kept it to herself, refusing to ask for help, no one would know how to save her.

  Chapter 5

  She was here. It was the first thing he’d made sure of when he pulled up to the dealership that morning.

  He’d gone in and talked to a receptionist. The name tag had said to call her Laura. And he had, right before asking if Amanda Hudson was working today. She’d answered in the positive but regarded him hesitantly. No, he wasn’t a reporter, he’d assured her and no, he hadn’t needed Ms. Hudson paged. He’d told her it wasn’t important enough to tear her away from her job. He’d smiled and thanked her for her time.

  Back in his truck, he pulled back out of range. He didn’t need any curious stares as he waited and watched. Sure, he could’ve hunted her down around lunch time but that would’ve raised additional suspicion. Plus, Ryan wanted her free of distraction and to have her time for more than a half-hour-long food-stuffing session.

  Yes, it could be more important than he’d led the receptionist to believe, life-threatening, in fact. But the less people who knew that, then the less interested parties who’d be asking what had been going on in a woman’s past which spanned from yesterday to half a decade ago.

  With most of the day to think, he’d done far too much of it and had come up with more clues pointing to a connection between him finding a part, making a call, and Amanda getting attacked the next day. He neatly arranged clues from his finding the pump to calling Amanda’s dad. Somehow he’d gotten Amanda attacked.

  The news in Bayfield last night had briefly reported on Denver and how Grand Theft Auto had turned into Grand Theft Auto Technician. “The woman was forced into . . .” Ryan had heard enough. Leaving Bill’s Grill, he’d gone to his computer and searched for specifics regarding the incident including the name of said woman. He was far from satisfied when he had it. Amanda had gotten away, but he couldn’t escape. Guilt kept repeating in his mind how the day after he’d contacted her, Amanda had been attacked.