The Girl Who Was Taken

by Charlie Donlea

  SUMMER 2016

  “Are you guys coming back here next year?”

  —Rachel Ryan

  CHAPTER 33

  August 2016

  Five Days Before the Abduction

  “They have a website?”

  “No,” Terry McDonald said. “None that I can find. She said the guy found her in the comments section on a website that discusses missing persons. Invited her to a private chat room. Things progressed from there.”

  “Good Christ. I want to put my kid in a bubble when I hear this stuff.”

  “You and me both,” Terry said. “Megan’s off to Duke in a couple of weeks, so there’s no bubble holding her for long.”

  He sat behind his desk at the Montgomery County Sheriff’s Office and spoke with his deputy. Diana Wells, dragged in by her parents, had told her story the day before.

  “Back in the day,” Terry said, “parents used to worry about testosterone-filled teenage boys wanting to get laid, or about kids swigging peppermint schnapps. But now? There’s so much crazy out there it’s hard to keep track. The Internet has introduced a whole new predator. Like this group of idiots running around snatching people off the streets to initiate them into a club.” He held up a sheet of paper. “Our options here, Mort?” Terry asked.

  “Not many. Did you say she actually chose certain preferences for the abduction?”

  “That’s how she described it. Said she could choose to be taken off the street or put in a trunk. She could have it rough or gentle. She got to choose how long she was gone, too. The minimum was three hours. The most was overnight.”

  “Lunatics,” Mort Gleeson said. “So we have an underage girl with a fake ID at a bar who was under the influence of alcohol, who willingly climbed into the accused’s car before any of the mock abduction began. She was not physically harmed. In the end, they dropped her off at the bar. And before any of it began, she agreed to the whole thing. Might be able to charge the girl with stupidity, but going after this club? There’s not much there.”

  Terry McDonald leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the pad of paper in front of him. There was a long pause.

  “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before, boss. Don’t get yourself in trouble. This is an election year.”

  “Just gonna have a look at the links and addresses of those chat rooms.”

  Mort Gleeson stood and rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Keep me posted. I know your daughter is at that age, but use sound judgment before you go knocking down any doors.”

  Terry McDonald looked up from his notepad, nodded at his deputy. When Mort was gone, the sheriff drummed his fingers on his chin. He looked down at his notes. He underlined it twice.

  “Okay, ladies,” Rachel said, walking down the steps of the beach house and onto the pool patio. She carried smoothies on a round tray like a waitress. “My mom and I just made these. Filled with strawberries and bananas and a shot of that protein powder. Supposed to help you lose five pounds in a week.”

  Rachel placed the tray on the patio table and handed out the extraordinary drinks that sported long straws and pineapple wedges stuck on the sides.

  “None of us need to lose five pounds,” Jessica said, lying on a lawn chair and soaking up the sun.

  “The freshman fifteen is coming,” Rachel said. “I’m fighting it off before it finds me.”

  “If you keep thinking you’re going to end up fat and ugly, you will,” Nicole said. “Self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  Rachel took a seat and they all sipped their smoothies, staring off at the bay and the boats and the wakeboarders ripping white streaks across the water. Occasional cotton-ball clouds spotted the blue sky. The scent of barbecued burgers sat on the shoulders of the afternoon breeze and mixed with traces of freshly cut grass, chlorine, and coconut sunscreen. A lawn mower buzzed from next door and, far off, an ice cream truck chimed as it chugged through the neighborhood. It was summer in Emerson Bay.

  “Are you guys coming back here next year?” Rachel asked.

  “Back where? Emerson Bay?” Jessica said.

  “To my house. Are we gonna hang out next summer?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “I don’t know. New friends. Maybe one of us stays at college for the summer. Takes classes or something.”

  “Not me,” Jessica said. “I’ll be home. And if you’re not, I’ll sit right here with your mom all summer and text you pictures of us. But I don’t think I’m the one you’re worried about.” Jessica looked at Nicole.

  “What’s that mean?” Nicole asked.

  “You’ve been MIA all summer, preoccupied with the guy you won’t let us meet.”

  “You guys wouldn’t get him, and I don’t feel like trying to explain him.”

  They had pushed all summer until Rachel and Jessica decided to finally give up. The closest they’d come to information on Nicole’s boyfriend was a picture she showed them—a selfie of Nicole and Casey. They got some background one day when Nicole explained that Casey’s brother had been abducted when they were kids. Jessica and Rachel knew immediately to back off the issue. Nicole had a strange childhood that included a cousin who had also gone missing. The mysterious summer fling made more sense to them.

  “Before we get too concerned about next summer,” Jessica said, “let’s concentrate on this weekend. We’re all still going to the beach party, right?”

  “We have to go,” Rachel said. “It’s the unofficial end of summer in Emerson Bay. It’s a tradition.”

  They waited until Nicole looked at them.

  “What?” Nicole said.

  “Are you going?”

  “I guess.”

  “What are you going to do when Casey doesn’t follow you to school?”

  Nicole gave a fake smile. “I’ll deal.”

  A boat cut through the water and drew its engine down as it entered the no-wake zone in front of Rachel’s house. They all shielded their eyes from the sun as they looked toward the water.

  “It’s Matt,” Jessica said. “That’s another issue we need to discuss. Does Casey know you’re hooking up with him?”

  “Ha! Matt’s too whipped by the princess to do much besides butterfly kisses. But I’ll break him. He’s a guy.” Nicole sat up from the patio chair and adjusted her bikini top. Took off her sunglasses and held them in front of her to admire her reflection in the lens.

  “Tyler and Mike are with him.”

  “Ah,” Nicole said in a pouty voice. “It was so cute the other day when they ambushed you on the boat and threw you in the bay. It had been such a boring summer for you guys. But now . . . summer bummer to summer hummer?”

  “Gross,” Rachel said. She stood up and waved as Tyler and Mike jumped onto the dock and walked up the stairs toward Rachel’s pool.

  “Ladies,” Tyler said.

  “What’s up?” Rachel asked.

  They wore swim trunks without shirts, their chests carrying a bronzed glow that suggested they’d been on the bay for most of the day.

  “Wanted to make sure you guys were going to the beach party on Saturday.”

  “Like we need an invitation from you guys?” Nicole said.

  “We’re going,” Jessica said. “She’s crabby.”

  “Matt too shy to talk to us?” Nicole asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tyler said. “He’s being weird.”

  Nicole stood and placed her smoothie on the table. “I’ll go see what his problem is.”

  She sauntered down the stairs in her bikini and best seductive walk, knowing they were all watching her. She pranced along the dock and jumped onto the boat.

  “You can’t come up to say hi to me?” she asked Matt, who was rearranging water skis and wetsuits in a floorboard compartment.

  “Hi,” he said without looking at her. “Just stopped for a second because my boys have a thing for your friends.”

  Nicole sat in the captain’s chair and playfully kicked Matt in the thigh as he knelt on the ground and wrestl
ed with a wedged water ski.

  “Give my offer any thought?”

  Matt managed to free the ski and align it with the others, then shut the hatch and stood up. “What offer?”

  Nicole cocked her head. “My offer from the other day, when you and I were all alone. . . .” She pointed below deck. “Right. Down. There.”

  Matt grabbed a towel and dried his hands. He looked wholly disinterested. “You know something, Nicole? I can’t understand why you need so much attention. But offering someone sex is a stupid way to get it.”

  Nicole swallowed hard when she heard his words, flashed her best persuasive grin to hide her embarrassment. “I figured you’re not getting any from your girlfriend, so I’d help you out.”

  “Trying to convince me to cheat on my girlfriend is not the best way to get noticed. Do something original, Nicole. Then people will pay attention to you.”

  She stood up. “I thought you said you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Things change.”

  “Really? Megan McDonald?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “She’s so not your type.”

  “You don’t know my type.”

  “I used to, because I was your type.”

  “We dated last year, Nicole. Let’s get over it.”

  “I was your type the other day.” Nicole came up to him and put her hands around his waist. “I promise you, she’s not going to give you what I can.”

  Matt grabbed her wrists and squeezed with his powerful forearms. “I’m scared to find out what you’d give me, and so are most of my friends.”

  Nicole tried hard to hide the pain he was causing in her wrists. “Let go of me.”

  “That’s what everyone thinks about you, you know that? That you’ve become an STD-spreading slut. Slutty Cutty they call you.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “And you’re a whore.” Matt pushed her away. “Get off my boat.”

  Nicole smiled. It looked forced and fake, worse than the last one. “You know what’s going to be really funny? When I have a little talk with the princess about what happened between us right down there.” She pointed below deck again. “I’m sure your Duke romance will flourish when she hears that you couldn’t get your hands off me, or your tongue out of my mouth.”

  Now Matt smiled casually. His was better than Nicole’s, more convincing as he walked slowly toward her. In one quick move like he’d used hundreds of times on the wrestling mat, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face to within an inch of his.

  “Talk to Megan, and you’re going to see a side of me you’ve never known.” He pushed her away again. “Now get off my boat.”

  The fake smile came back to her face, and she used the backs of her hands to wipe her tears. “You’re such a loser.”

  She hurried up the dock, passing Tyler and Mike, who took awkward glances at her on the way by.

  PART V

  “People know me as the girl from my book, or as the girl

  from before the abduction. I’m neither anymore.”

  —Megan McDonald

  CHAPTER 34

  October 2017

  Thirteen Month’s Since Megan’s Escape

  It was Friday before Livia could get back to Emerson Bay. As Megan sat in the passenger seat while they headed to West Bay, the horizon seared with the last efforts of the setting sun.

  “Who is this guy?” Megan asked.

  “A piece of work,” Livia said. “The problem is, he might be useful.”

  Earlier in the week Livia had caught Megan up on her findings from the evidence room—the green fiber match to Casey Delevan’s clothing, and the missing fork that Ted Kane had expertly identified as the tool used to end his life. Both findings created a link between Casey and Nicole on the night she was taken. By association, the findings had snared Megan as well.

  Livia pulled through the light when it turned green, turned onto a side street a few minutes later, and stopped the car in front of the dilapidated house she had visited two weeks before.

  “Useful how?” Megan asked.

  “Here’s the thing,” Livia said. “When we go to your dad, I want ammunition. We’ve got the ketamine and the fibers and the missing fork. But for your dad to get on board, I need more. I need to convince him that Casey Delevan was taking girls.”

  “You mean Nancy Dee?”

  “Maybe others, too.”

  “Other girls? Who?”

  Livia pointed to the house. “I’m hoping to find out tonight.”

  They climbed out of the car and knocked on the rickety screen door. Daisy went wild, barking and clawing. Nate Theros held her at bay while he cracked open the door.

  “Nate. It’s Livia Cutty.”

  Nate smiled as he stared past Livia.

  Livia followed his glance. “This is Megan McDonald.”

  His eyes unblinking, Nate carried the starstruck grin of a fan meeting his favorite movie star.

  “Maybe you should put Daisy away,” Livia said, interrupting Nate’s moment as he gawked and grinned at Megan. “So we can talk?”

  “Yeah,” Nate said, nodding. “I’ll be right back.”

  While Nate dragged Daisy to her crate, Livia spoke over the barking. “This guy was a member of the club I told you about. The one that studied missing persons cases. He’s enamored of your presence. You’re as famous as they get.”

  Megan raised her eyebrows. “I’m flattered.”

  “Just bear with me. I promised him you’d be here to sign a copy of your book and answer some questions for him. It’s the only way he’d agree to talk.”

  Nate was back a minute later. “You guys wanna come in?” he asked, oblivious to the many things that would prevent two women from entering his house. Like that they were in West Bay at dusk, with a muddy purple sky just ahead of Halloween. Or that his T-shirt did nothing to contain the tattoos that traced his arms and neck. Or that the giant hoop earrings that weighted down his earlobes shouted bad intentions and mischief.

  “No, thanks,” Livia said. “Let’s talk on the porch.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Nate walked onto the front patio and put a cigarette between his lips. “Hey,” he said to Megan.

  “Hi.”

  “I read your book.”

  “Oh yeah?” Megan still hadn’t found the right way to respond to this. “Thanks.”

  “Nate, Megan and I want to ask you a few questions about the club.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You mentioned that the Capture Club talked about a variety of cases, old and new.”

  “Right.”

  “Who chose the cases?”

  “Anybody. If you were curious about a case, you’d throw out a name.”

  “Like Jeffrey Dahmer?”

  “Dahmer, Gacy, Bittaker and Norris, Beneke. You name it. But we didn’t spend tons of time on them. They were old news.”

  “You guys talked about current stuff mostly?”

  “A lot of the time, yeah.”

  “Anybody could bring up a topic or a name?”

  “Yeah. Mostly we followed the news.”

  Livia nodded. “Especially if someone nearby went missing?”

  “Right.”

  “Nancy Dee, for example.”

  “Yeah, we talked about her.”

  “You remember how the group got onto the Nancy Dee story?”

  “I don’t know. Probably Casey. He was the most up-to-date on the new stuff. Always had a beat on it right when the story broke.”

  “So, you’d say he knew about some of the cases before anyone else did?”

  “Guess so, yeah.”

  “You remember any other cases, newer ones, that you guys talked about.”

  Nate wagged his head back and forth, eyes up to the sky. “Sure. Remember a bunch.” He lit his cigarette. “Got a binder full of the ones we talked about.”

  “A binder full of missing girls?”

  “Not just girls. Some dudes,
too. Whoever the club thought was interesting.”

  “Where’s this binder?”

  “Inside.”

  “Can we have a look at it?”

  Nate shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s my private stuff from back when the club was in full swing.”

  Megan cleared her throat. “I’d really like to see it.” She smiled at Nate. “If that would be okay.”

  Nate inhaled from his cigarette and the smoke got lodged somewhere in his trachea, causing him to cough like a teenager taking his first drag. He avoided eye contact. “Be right back.” He pulled open the screen door and disappeared inside.

  “Interesting guy,” Megan said.

  “I think he’s harmless. Thanks for throwing your star power around.”

  “What good is being famous if you don’t use it?”

  Nate was back a few minutes later with a black three-ring binder. It reminded Livia of the folder she’d taken from Casey Delevan’s desk drawer. Nate handed it to her.

  “Here’re most of the cases we talked about. I’ve kept up on a lot of them. Plus a couple new ones.” He looked at Megan. “Got a bunch of your stuff.” He shrugged, as if offering someone his life’s work. “If you wanna check it out.”

  “Nancy Dee in here?” Livia said.

  “Oh yeah. Got a few pages on her.”

  Livia found Nancy’s pages and skimmed through them. Then she leafed through the binder, looking for information on Paula D’Amato, the other girl from Casey Delevan’s file. Halfway through the pages she found newspaper clippings about her.