Gone (Gone #1)

by Claflin, Stacy

  Fleshman placed the camisole flat on the table, and then pulled out a black hoodie with little, red flowers all over it.

  "Macy has one like that, but it has purple flowers," Alyssa said. Then it hit her: the flowers were covered in blood—that was why they were red. Her stomach lurched, and had she eaten anything the day before, it would have come up. "That's blood. It's covered!"

  Chad held her tighter. She buried her face into his chest, sobbing.

  "Where did you find the clothes?" Chad demanded.

  "Near the mall," Anderson said. "By the jogging trail."

  "What does this mean? Are you any closer to finding her? Will this help?"

  "The next step will be to find out the blood is hers."

  Alyssa sat up. "What do we do now?"

  Fleshman gave her a sympathetic look. "Go home and get some sleep."

  Dread

  Zoey peeled some midnight-blue nail polish off her pinky nail. It had chipped badly, but she didn't care. Usually she kept her nails perfect, but with Macy gone, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

  Her mom yawned next to her. "They call us down here at this ungodly hour, and then they make us wait. Not everyone works the graveyard shift." She glared at the officer sitting at the front desk.

  He looked at them. "The girl's parents are looking at the clothes now. I'm sure it won't be much longer." He looked back at the computer screen in front of him.

  "I'll bet he's playing games," muttered Zoey's mom.

  "Do you want to go home, and I'll have one of them bring me back?"

  Her face softened. "No, Zoey. Honey, I'm sorry. I'm so tired. I know this has been a hellish week for everyone. I'm here for you, and I'm not going to leave your side. If I have to miss work again tomorrow, then I will."

  "Tomorrow's Saturday, Mom."

  "Work hours don't make themselves up. It's going to take me a few weekends and evenings to make up the time I've already missed, and I'm sure to miss more. Don't worry about it."

  Zoey rolled her eyes. Why would she worry about her mom's work schedule? She went back to picking at her nails, and her mom pulled out her tablet. Zoey ignored her, pretending that her nails were most interesting thing around. She wasn't even fooling herself, the one person she wanted to.

  Her stomach churned acid. All this time she had told herself she was mad at Macy for running off with Jared, but deep down she knew that wasn't like her best friend. Her shy, vegan friend who often hid behind Zoey wouldn't run off with a guy she had just met. As nice as that would be to believe, it didn't make sense.

  What did make sense was what they were waiting to see: clothes with blood on them. It couldn't be—not Macy. The last week had to have been one long sick and twisted nightmare. But if that was the case, why couldn't Zoey wake up?

  Conversation caught her attention. Zoey sat up, forgetting about her nails. It sounded like Macy's parents. The voices got closer, until she could see them talking with a cop. They rounded a corner, entering the waiting area.

  Zoey stood up. Where was Alex? Did they leave him home? In a way, she was jealous. She wished she could get sleep instead of waking from nightmares constantly. Her dreams wouldn't leave her alone, always reminding her of what she was truly afraid of. She had woken up from almost every scenario possible: Macy being shot, stabbed, poisoned, strangled, hanged, drugged, and more.

  Alyssa turned their way. Mascara streaked down her face, and her eyes were red and puffy. She had obviously been crying—a lot. Zoey's heart sank. Why were they even there? The clothes had probably already been identified as Macy's from the looks of it.

  Her mom got up and gave Macy's parents both a hug. Nobody spoke about the clothes or Macy.

  When Alyssa made eye contact with Zoey, she nodded. "Thanks for coming down here, Zo. You've always been such a good friend to…." Tears fell down her face, further smearing the mascara.

  Zoey looked away, afraid that she would cry too.

  Chad caught her attention. "We do appreciate you, Zoey. Both of you." He looked at her mom. "If you guys ever need anything, let us know."

  "I'm the one who should be offering you something, Chad."

  "Where's Alex?" Zoey blurted out.

  Her mom glared at her. They both knew she couldn't help it, though. When she was uncomfortable, her mouth did its own thing.

  "Oh, Alex!" Alyssa's eyes widened, and her lips wobbled. "I'm the worst mother ever. Macy is gone and we left without Alex."

  Zoey's mom shot her a dirty look and turned to Alyssa. Zoey sighed. How was she supposed to know Alyssa would get even more upset?

  "Alyssa, I'm sure he's better off at home, sleeping. You guys have been through enough."

  "But we didn't even think to check on him! I forgot all about him when I got that phone call. I'm not—"

  "He probably won't even know you're gone."

  Alyssa looked at her. "But, Valerie, I forgot about my son. I forgot about him!" More tears fell, and she wiped at them, spreading the mascara sideways. Zoey wished she had something she could give her to wipe it all off.

  The officer behind the desk called Zoey and her mom back. They said their goodbyes to the Mercers and followed him to a room with nothing except a table, chairs, and a black bag.

  Three policemen came in, introducing themselves as Anderson, Reynolds, and Fleshman. Zoey let her mom do all the talking. She enjoyed being in charge and quickly dominated the conversation.

  Zoey stared at the black bag, curious and disgusted at the same time. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run away or look at the clothes.

  Before she knew it, one of the cops grabbed the bag. Zoey jumped, startled. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn't been paying attention to anything being said.

  "Why are we here? Didn't Macy's parents just see the clothes?"

  Her mom sighed. "Didn't you listen to anything they said?"

  Fleshman said, "It's okay. We know it's a stressful time." He turned to Zoey. "With you being her best friend, you might be able to offer additional insight that her parents couldn't."

  Zoey shrugged. How could she help? She didn't know anything.

  The detective pulled out Macy's pants. Zoey recognized them right away. They had spent hours at the mall looking for pants. Macy didn't like any of the ones she had, saying they were too out of style. Zoey thought her pants were fine, but she knew how cruel some of the popular girls had been to Macy.

  "Do you recognize these?"

  Holding her breath, Zoey nodded. She took a slow, deep breath, trying to control herself. "She bought those for her date." Zoey slunk down into a chair. She covered her face with her hands, not wanting anyone to see her cry. She had held herself together up to that point, but seeing the pants was too much.

  Her mom was talking with the cops. She didn't want to hear any more. She was done. She sat up. "Can I go now? I told you those are her pants."

  Fleshman walked around the table and put his hand on her shoulder. "We really need you to look at the rest of them. Can you do that much for us? For Macy?"

  She sighed. "Fine." She took a deep breath, determined to keep herself together. The pants hadn't had any blood on them. Maybe the police had only mentioned blood to get them down there at two in the morning.

  One of the other cops pulled out Macy's favorite hoodie. Why were the flowers red? The blood drained from her face. "Is that blood?" Without thinking, she grabbed the hoodie. It crunched in her grasp. "Is that Macy's blood?"

  "We don't know yet. It's going to take some time to process. We wanted to have the clothes identified first because we have to send them to a larger department that has those capabilities."

  Zoey dropped the hoodie onto the table. "It's hers, like the pants. Can I go now?" The room spun around her. She wanted to get out.

  Anderson pulled out Macy's new camisole, which was covered in blood.

  A foreign sound escaped from Zoey's throat. "I gave that to her for her birthday. Her old one was too big after she lost weight." She
sat back down in the chair. How much more of this would she have to endure? They showed her socks, but Zoey didn't know if they were Macy's.

  Zoey waited for them to bring out underwear and a bra, but they didn't. Was that a good thing?

  "Where did you find these?" Valerie asked.

  "A jogger found them near the mall."

  "That's where she was supposed to meet him." Zoey felt lightheaded. "They were just supposed to go to the mall."

  One of the cops looked at her. "But that area had been gone over. The clothes weren't there a couple days ago."

  "Does that mean she's close?" Zoey sat up, hopeful. "We've got to find her."

  Fleshman shook his head. "The clothes appeared to have been placed there. There wasn't a sign of struggle or anything else suspicious. We had some dogs brought in, and they couldn't detect a thing."

  What could it all mean? Zoey looked at each of the cops. None of them appeared to know more than she did.

  "When will you know whose blood that is?" Valerie asked.

  "It could be as long as a week. We're going to request they make it a priority, but it's not our department. We can only hope they'll comply since it's a missing child case."

  Zoey ran her hands through her hair, not caring how much she messed it up. She had to get out of there. The walls were closing in on her. Her eyes were also getting heavy. She needed to get some sleep, even if it was riddled with nightmares. Her eyes closed, giving into their weight.

  She drifted off to sleep right away. Images of bloody clothes filled her dreams. Somewhere, Macy was calling for help.

  "Zoey, we're leaving now."

  Not wanting to move, she pretended not to hear her mom. She didn't care that she was sleeping in a chair down at the station. At least she was sleeping.

  "Come on, Zoey. You can sleep in the car."

  She mumbled something that not even she understood.

  "A little help, please?"

  Zoey felt hands slide under her legs and around her back. She had the vague awareness of being carried. Good. She didn't feel like opening her eyes or walking.

  Bound

  Macy opened her eyes, but it was just as dark as when they were closed. She looked around, trying to see anything. Was she back in Heather's room? Something covered her mouth. Macy moved her mouth back and forth. It felt like duct tape.

  She went to sit up, but couldn't move. What was going on? She moved her arms, but they wouldn't budge. She tried her legs next, and they were stuck, too. She wiggled around, feeling pressure around her wrists, ankles, and knees. Was she tied up?

  Her hair rested on her cheek, making it itch. She moved her head to scratch the itch with her shoulder. Instead, she scratched her face on something hard, breaking the skin. She moved her head around, feeling a poking sensation along her face.

  No.

  She was back in the barn. She was lying on hay. She looked around again, hoping to see something as her eyes adjusted to the dark. She couldn't make anything out. Not a single shape. It had to be really late, unless her eyes had been covered too.

  Squirming, she managed to get her shoulder up to her face. Something was wrapped around her eyes. It could be the middle of the day for all she knew.

  She could hear hooves up above. If she'd doubted she was back in the dungeon, those doubts were gone. She could hear the rodents moving around in the room somewhere.

  What could she do? George and Ingrid were on the farm. If she screamed, they would hear her if they were near the barn. If they found her, she could tell them everything. They could call the police and get her home.

  On the other hand, Chester could hear her screaming and make things even worse for her.

  She didn't care. It was worth the risk. She had to take it.

  Macy took a deep breath, preparing herself to yell louder than she ever had before. She let out the loudest, bone-curdling scream she could muster. It barely made a sound because of the duct tape.

  Her stomach growled. How long had she been back in the dungeon? More importantly, how much longer would she be there? She had to find a way out this time. Although it would clearly be more challenging now that she was bound up.

  The last thing she was going to do was to wallow in her misery. She needed to find a way to get herself free. She couldn't tell for sure, but it felt like zip ties were wrapped around her wrists and ankles. They were skinny and tight, painfully digging into her flesh. He probably made them too tight on purpose. He wanted her to pay for talking back to him.

  Did he seriously believe that he was doing her a favor? That she was lucky? He might have hoped that tying her up and sticking her back in the barn would make her need him more, but it had backfired. She was pissed off, and after she freed herself she would attack him when he came back for her.

  He would regret ever taking her. Strike that. He would regret ever having seen her online in the first place. She had seen enough of Alex's karate to put some of it to use. She wished she had paid more attention, or even taken lessons herself, instead of texting and playing games, but it wasn't like she could have predicted that she would end up kidnapped.

  Stupid jerk. He was going to pay. She wiggled and squirmed. No matter what it took, she was going to get up, and then she would find a way to free herself. As she fought to sit upright, she pictured the dungeon. In her mind's eye, she looked around for anything she could use to free herself.

  Nothing came to mind, but she would have to find something. A sharp piece of wood sticking out from a wall, maybe. There had to be something.

  As she continued to wiggle around, the hay scratched up her arms and face. She wasn't even sure if she had moved at all. When she had watched shows with someone tied up, she thought it had been over-dramatized. Now it seemed under-done. She wasn't getting anywhere, and she was starting to break out into a sweat.

  The cloth over her eyes was collecting moisture and feeling heavier. Macy continued to fight, but no matter how much she struggled, she didn't get anywhere.

  Her throat was dry, and she had to go to the bathroom. She had to find a way out of the restraints, if for no other reason than to relieve herself. With more fight than before, she struggled to get off the bale. Maybe she could at least try to stand up. Then she could find something—anything—to break the zip ties.

  Her bladder burned, especially as she moved around. With each movement, it protested. She finally made some progress and rolled onto her stomach.

  Tears of joy escaped. If she managed to roll over once, she could do it again. She moved her head to the side, getting her face out of the bale.

  The pressure on her bladder was too much. She wasn't going to be able to hold it until she could get the ties off and her pants down.

  No. Please.

  Her burning bladder was all she could focus on. She had to go so bad. New tears ran down out of her eyes, soaking the blindfold.

  She was about to pee herself, she knew it was only a matter of minutes, if that. She squeezed her muscles together to keep it in, squirming and rolling with as much force as she could. She rolled again, feeling a strange sensation. She was falling. It felt further than one bale. How far was she going to fall?

  Thud. She landed flat on her back. She let out a cry, and then her bladder released its contents. Warm liquid ran through her pants, puddling around her.

  Macy stayed in place, crying again. More than before, she wanted to get home. Back to her family. If I ever get back, I swear I will appreciate them. I'll do what I'm supposed to.

  She stayed there, making promises into the duct tape until the puddle around her went cold. Her stomach growled again, but the smell of her urine made her gag.

  Shivers ran through her. It was getting cold, and being in a puddle wasn't helping anything. Having learned a little bit about rolling over while restrained, she was able to roll over onto her side easier than she had before.

  It felt like hours had passed since she woke up. How long was he going to leave her down there? Her bloo
d ran cold as the most horrible thought struck: what if he had left her down there to die? Was he looking for a new Heather even now?

  Macy knew his name and his parents' names. She could easily describe the barn and the farmhouse. She was a risk for him to let go if he had decided she was too much trouble.

  Fresh determination ran through her. She had to get out of the barn—alive. She didn't care what it took; she was going to find a way out and then get home. She didn't care if she was clear across the country. She would do it somehow.

  The first thing she had to do was to roll until she hit something, preferably a wall. Then she would find a board to rub against the zip tie holding her arms together. She ignored her drenched, cold pants and rolled herself over again.

  She was getting tired and she was still hungry and thirsty. She knew she could go about three days without water, but she didn't even know how long it had been already.

  No matter what it would take, she would get out and back to her family.

  Reminders

  Chad pulled his arm away from Alyssa. She had finally fallen asleep after insisting that he hold her. She had been so upset with herself for forgetting about Alex when they left for the station.

  Alex would have figured they left him to sleep. The poor kid hadn't had much rest himself the last week, and the last thing Chad had wanted was for his son to have to deal with seeing Macy's clothes. Alex was already upset enough about her disappearance.

  Alex was just like Chad, keeping his feelings to himself, but Chad could read him like a book. He could see that Macy's disappearance was eating Alex up.

  Sitting up, he fixed the blankets around Alyssa. Even though it was late and he was exhausted, he couldn't sleep. How could he after seeing his daughter's bloody clothes?

  Chad knew enough about blood loss to know that the amount on the clothes wasn't enough to kill her. It was more like a cut. A bad one, but not enough to be fatal.

  A sick feeling settled into his stomach. How could anyone do that to his daughter? He would personally hunt down the one responsible and beat him within an inch of his life. He would find out what he did to Macy, and then he would do exactly the same thing to the sick bastard.