19
I’ve never been so frustrated with a federal police investigation as I am right now. People are scattered all around my house, trying to collect clues and evidence and I’m sitting around being fucking useless. Marcus quickly gave me no other option but to sit idly by while he and his teams did their jobs; within thirty seconds, I was ready to yank out my hair. I don’t understand why we’re just staying here while Samantha and Tyler are God knows where. Time is of the essence. If my suspicion on who has taken them is accurate, anything could be happening to them right now. I stand suddenly from the bar stool in my kitchen, drawing Marcus’s attention across the room. He raises an eyebrow at me, reminding me I’ve been told to stay put. I gesture that I’m just going upstairs; he nods reluctantly, knowing me well enough to know how easily I could give him the slip, especially in my own home.
But I have no intention of giving him the slip. At least not right now. I head upstairs into my bedroom, noticing immediately it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been in here for months. I’d half-expected Sam to move directly in here, since it’s the place we spent most of our time and made several hundred very wonderful memories. Though I can understand if she needed to separate herself from such constant reminders of those memories. For the hundredth time, I imagine what our reunion will be like. The look of joy on her face reflecting what I would be feeling internally. Incredulousness. Possible severe annoyance for making her think I was dead. I have every intention of dragging her back in here once things calm down and spending as much time as possible with her, reacquainting ourselves with each other.
There are still so many things she and I need to discuss, of course. What it is we want; though I know exactly what I want and it involves her and my son back in my life on a very permanent basis. I have to assure her she’s safe, despite what’s gone on recently. I know I’ll need to convince her she’s who I want, who I’ve always wanted, and who I will always want. There is nobody else for me and I believe with every bone in my body she feels the same about me. And once things settle, we can get back to where we’re supposed to be—married again, increasing our family. I missed so much of my son’s life and I regret that. I never saw him take his first steps or heard him speak his first words. I didn’t teach him to ride a bike or read him bedtime stories or any of the things I promised myself I would do for him. Even as a teenager, I swore I wouldn’t raise my child the way I was raised—with an absent father. Of course I understood why my father was away so much; Navy life tends to do that. But I always wished he was there more often and that we had a better relationship than the one we have even now. I wanted to be there for my son and I failed in that duty. That will change and when (if) Samantha and I have more children, I will be there for them every step of the way.
Rubbing my hand over my face roughly, I head out of my bedroom and down the hall to my office. I’m going to have my work cut out for me cleaning this mess... Luckily my fish are unharmed. I sit back behind my desk, switching on my computer and trying to take stock of anything that might be missing or broken. Only a few of my prototypes were actually in complete working order and none of those would spark any interest for the people who have taken my family. The missing chip is slightly worrisome, but that’s easy enough to remotely destroy to ensure it can’t be used for its intended uses.
I’m feeling anxious again as I pull up several different programs, the first of which is a long shot in locating Samantha and Tyler, but it certainly won’t harm anything. At least I really hope it won’t...
When I developed the chip for the IRS, I’d been experimenting with shrinking the size of GPS trackers. My first dozen attempts were useless—the trackers worked, but only reached about twenty feet out. Not really all that useful in practice. Eventually I realized making a useful compact GPS tracker was easier than I was making it out to be. I’d been overcomplicating things. The day I placed both the chip and tracker into Tyler’s watch, I had no idea whether the latter would actually work since I hadn’t had much time for field testing.
The first thing I did when my plane touched down in Italy was to logon to check the status of the chip. Much to both my relief and delight, I could find Tyler’s location accurately to within twelve feet. And I knew his location to be true when I checked with the guards I assigned to keep my son and Samantha safe. At the time, I’d only wanted peace of mind that Tyler was in no harm; I never actually believed I’d have to use the tracker to physically find him. Of course there’s the concern that he’s no longer wearing the watch or that somebody took it from him.
Waiting for the program to boot, I notice the surveillance program my company developed has been used recently. I bring it up and feel my blood freeze for a moment before it boils again. Frank fucking Marone. He’s sitting in his office at East Coast Travel alternately writing something and glancing with what I can only describe as an expectant expression at his desk phone. Having once been my friend, I trusted Frank more than most. By the time I ended our business and personal relationship I would have been much more at ease dragging him out to the woods and getting him out of the picture altogether.
Leo and I have known him for years, and I should have trusted my judgment on that first meeting. Frank can be a nice enough guy when he wants to be—usually when there’s something in it for him—but some of the decisions he’s made for his business dealings are downright illegal. I don’t have any proof aside from my gut instinct, but I believe Frank has gotten into the arms dealing business with a side gig dealing drugs.. Even Leo knows there’s something off about him and his supposed travel agency; more than once Bonnie has mentioned seeing some very shady characters pulling up to the building in the middle of the night. She’s smart enough not to be seen by those people and it’s left an unpleasant taste in her mouth about Frank.
Samantha met him once, though I doubt she remembers. It was at a party during which I was working to get funding for a new project and was one of the first times I brought her along to such an event. She’d looked gorgeous, of course, in a little black dress and her hair styled. And I suppose I can’t blame Frank for flirting with her—if it had been the first time I’d seen her, I wouldn’t have rested until she agreed to go out with me—but the moment he realized she was with me, his entire demeanor changed. He’d made her incredibly uncomfortable and that alone should have been enough for me to permanently imprint my fist in his face, but the leering, lustful looks he shot her for the rest of the night made me nervous and protective enough not to let her out of my sight for longer than absolutely necessary. She wrote the evening off as Frank drinking too much and hitting on her, which was fine with me; the less she realized the better. But I never trusted Frank enough to invite him to my home when Samantha was around.
Watching Frank now, I have to wonder what he’s been up to these last few months. I’m well aware of his involvement in my current situation, though I don’t know how he seems to think he’ll benefit from this. The minute I lay eyes on him, he’s going to regret ever crossing me.
Finally my tracking program loads and it takes only a few taps on the keyboard to get a very rough map pulled up. It takes another minute or so once I’ve activated the tracker before it begins to hone in on its target. I almost laugh when the coordinates pop up on the screen and I quickly commit to memory the surroundings. It’s right on the edge of a lake, about forty-five minutes drive. Relief hits me; I know I’ve found my family. Now that I’ve got a rough idea of where they are, I pull my phone from my back pocket and turn it on for the first time in weeks, then leave the office to find Marcus.
-------------o-------------
Even before opening my eyes, I know something is very wrong. My head aches, my throat hurts, and I’m queasy. Taking a few quick breaths, I run through the last few things I remember, none of which puts me at ease in the slightest. I try to figure out where I am. All I can conclude is that I’m lying on a wooden floor that’s moving. The air is musty and humid.
Every part of
me hurts, but the moment I hear a tiny sniffle, I’m completely alert. My eyes snap open and look around until they find the little boy huddled up in a corner. “Tyler,” I whisper, pushing myself into a sitting position and watch as his head whips around and his eyes widen at the sight of me. “Come here, baby.”
I didn’t need to say the words; he’s already halfway across the tiny room, then he’s in my lap shaking and crying and holding onto me. I breathe him in, gently running my hands all over his body to check for injuries. He seems unharmed. Thank God. “Are you okay, sweetie?” I ask him.
He nods, nuzzling himself further into me. I don’t know where we are, but I need to get us out of here. Before that I need to know what the immediate threats may be. “Tyler, have you seen any people?” I ask him.
Again he nods, looking up at me. “A woman,” he whispers. “She brought me in here. She told me we’ll be okay.”
Blinking, I process this information. “Do you remember what the woman looked like?”
“Tall,” Tyler says decisively. “Taller than you. And dark hair.”
“Was she old or young?”
Tyler purses his lips together in thought. “Old,” he says. “As old as you.”
In any other situation, I might laugh at my son’s idea of “old.” “Was there anyone else? Any men?”
“Nope,” he says, shaking his head. “And I think we’re on a boat.”
“A boat?” I repeat. That’s actually helpful. “Why do you think that?”
“Because it feels like it did when Tom and me went fishing on Matt’s boat,” he says. “And Tom got sick because the boat was rocking so much.”
Tom got seasick? That’s news to me. Another tidbit to file away for later amusement. “Have we moved?”
Tyler shakes his head, his hair going everywhere. “Don’t think so,” he tells me.
I take a deep breath and, holding my son in my arms, push myself to my feet, giving myself a moment to adjust for the rocking motions beneath me. We tiptoe to the one little porthole in the room and I look out, trying to gather my bearings. From what I can tell, we’re still docked, though I have no idea where we’re docked. It doesn’t look familiar, which means it’s not Matthew’s dock. We could be anywhere. There aren’t any sounds above us, no footsteps, no voices, so I briefly consider making a run for it. The only problem being wherever we go, we’d be lost and if someone caught up to us, we’d be screwed. Despite not knowing what level of danger we’re currently in, I can’t risk putting Tyler in anymore.
I walk us back to the spot where I woke up and sit down, trying to keep my emotions in check. There’s a crash of some sort just above us and I have to place my hand over my son’s mouth to keep him from yelping too loudly. I listen intently at the low, grumbling voices that I can’t quite make out. Lowering my hand from Tyler’s mouth, I try to relax, though I know it’s not doing either of us any good right now and it’s certainly not fooling my son.
“Are you scared, Mommy?” he asks me very quietly, resting his head on my chest.
I could lie. Tell him I’m not scared and he shouldn’t be either. “Yes, baby, I’m scared,” I whisper.
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
Smiling genuinely, I kiss his forehead. “I know you will.” I start to say something else but I can hear footsteps approaching the door just feet from us. Instinctively, I gather Tyler against me and push back with my feet until I’m resting against a wall. Someone tests the doorknob before finally turning it. An unfamiliar woman enters the room. Though it’s too dark to see her in great detail, I can tell she’s got long dark hair and she’s tall.
“Mommy, that’s her.” Tyler stretches up to whisper the words in my ear. I nod, wrapping him more tightly in my arms.
“Well, it’s good to see you awake, Samantha,” says the woman. “I do apologize for the less than stellar surroundings, but it was the best we could get at the last minute.”
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice stronger than what I’m actually feeling. “What do you want?”
She raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow. “We’ll get to that,” she says dismissively. “In the meantime, are you comfortable? If you’re cold, I can fetch a few blankets.”
“We’re fine,” I say icily. “Though I would appreciate it if you took us home. My son needs to sleep before school in the morning.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. As valuable as an education is, I think you have bigger things to worry about,” she says smoothly.
“Like what?”
“Like where I might find Matthew Young.”
My eyes widen and I swear to God, I almost laugh. “Good luck with that,” I say. “From what I understand he’s all over Europe. Literally.”
Amusement flashes across her expression and I really want to slap it off. “The sad thing is you really believe that,” she murmurs thoughtfully. My eyes widen at her words and my breathing is shallow, though I have no idea what she might mean by them. “Okay, we’ll try a different track. Where’s the chip?”
I try to keep my expression as blank as I can, though inside I’m on the verge of panic. If I’m right about Matthew’s actions, this chip she’s looking for is much closer than she knows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say evenly.
Irritation flashes across the woman’s face. “Don’t play games with me,” she threatens in a low voice. “You are not in any position to pretend you don’t know exactly what’s going on right now.”
“But I don’t!” I insist. “What do you want from me?”
“I already told you,” she says. Her mouth opens to continue, but a noise from above distracts us. The woman’s mouth curves down into a frown and with a glare at me, she turns to leave the room. I sigh in relief when the door closes.
Tyler looks up at me. “Mommy, my watch is doing something funny, look,” he tells me in a whisper.
I look down distractedly, trying to figure out how to get us out of this mess and feel my eyes widen. From inside the watch, a tiny light is blinking. I pull Tyler’s wrist up to examine it more closely, wondering how the hell something could be behaving in this manner from within such a small thing as a child’s wristwatch. “Cover it with your hand,” I tell him very quietly. “Keep it hidden.”
He turns in my lap so that his wrist is wedged between his hip and my belly.
A commotion breaks out on deck and my fear only increases at the sound of gunshots, several of them. Not knowing what else to do, I stand up, backing as far as I can from the door in the room, putting my back against the wall just as the door slams open and two large men enter. I know their intent immediately and I hold Tyler closer as they approach, warning them to stay away from us. Of course they ignore me and one of them reaches for Tyler, ripping him out of my arms. Tyler is screaming and crying and fighting while I’m screaming for him to leave my son alone, to take me, leave him. The second man grabs me before I can attack the first one, wrenching my hands behind my back and pulling a gun from the back of his belt. The muzzle is ice cold against my temple, but I try to pay it no mind, fighting to get to my son.
“Move,” the man behind me orders in a thick Russian accent. I have no choice but to comply as the one holding Tyler starts outside the room; I need to keep my son in sight.
On the deck of the boat, there are more gunshots and my eyes are wide and fearful as I worry about whether or not those bullets will hit my son. Our captors begin shouting at unseen figures probably in the wooded area just off the shore. Tyler is fighting more than ever and I want to tell him to calm down before the man holding him harms him. But I’m blinded by incredibly bright light and slam my eyelids shut to allow my eyes time to adjust.
When I open them again, I immediately find something impossible. Blaming my still adjusting eyesight, I convince myself I’m not seeing Matthew standing up from the ground, his eyes wide, his face angry. But as our eyes meet I realize it is him; though I have no idea how it could be. He’s dead. We saw th
e footage of the plane crash and there is no way he could have just stood up, wiped the dust off himself, and walked away. But that’s what my mind is telling me has happened. He doesn’t seem as though he’s been through a plane crash. Then the woman’s words to me earlier about how it’s sad that I actually believe him to be dead ring in my ears. I need to go to him, to know if this is some strange hallucination. There’s every possibility that it’s only my mind playing tricks on me to give me some sort of comfort in my time of need. I suddenly don’t care about what happens to me. My only concern is Tyler and his safety.
I begin to struggle against the grip the man has on my arms. His reaction is press the muzzle of the gun further and more roughly into my temple to the point that it actually begins to affect my vision. Twisting away, I force my captor to release the grip he’s got on my wrists and I bite my lip against a snap in one as I turn around, plant my feet, and place my kneecap between the man’s legs. He grunts in pain and he stumbles backwards, gripping himself; I turn towards the man who has Tyler, intending to do the same to him. There’s a scuffling behind me and I cry out in intense pain, listening as my son cries out for me and I hear a strangled, raging shout from off the boat as I’m thrown bodily into the wall. I’m out cold before I can even slide to the floor.
20
Sitting in a tiny waiting room that probably couldn’t hold more than a dozen people comfortably, my head is in my hands as I await news on my family. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been sitting in this broken chair with a spring poking into my ass, but the way I see it, it’s a small penance to pay for the disaster I’ve created. Marcus sat with me for the first couple hours, neither of us speaking a word. Before he left, he assured me he’d keep me posted on any new developments. Right now, though, the only developments I want to be apprised of are those regarding Samantha and Tyler.
Young Lies (Young Series) Page 32