by Lynn Sholes
“You are.”
“You still have the two o’clock meeting. They called a few minutes ago and wanted to know if you were up to it—that they would understand if you wanted to cancel. I said I would check and get right back to them.”
A long spiraling breath came from Alan. “No, I’ll be fine. Maybe it will get my mind off Devin.”
Kai reached beneath Alan’s suit jacket and scratched his back with her long red nails, then pulled away. “I’ll tell them the meeting is on.”
When Alan heard the click of the door closing, he wandered to his desk and sat down. Inlaid in the desktop was the blue thunderbolt logo behind the CyberSys name. He remembered choosing the color shortly after learning of Devin’s condition. If only news of Devin’s whereabouts would come as fast as the idea for the design of Alan’s famous corporate symbol. This waiting—the not knowing—was ripping him apart. Miami-Dade police negotiation specialists and detectives were encamped in his private conference room. If Devin had been kidnapped, they were prepared for the ransom call. After all, Alan was rich. Extremely rich. And he had received his share of threats and crank calls.
As founder and president of CyberSys, Alan had amassed a personal fortune in the hundreds of millions directing the development of high-speed encryption technology for government security systems. His programs, produced by CyberSys engineers, were used by U.S. government agencies worldwide, and his team’s research into the latest quantum computing hardware was getting closer to building the first working model of the elusive super computer each day.
As yet, there had been no calls or demands, and the police had no leads, no information, nothing. Nothing but the blurry parking lot surveillance recording of a white panel truck leaving with Devin inside.
They had issued a statewide Amber Alert, but he’d had to force them to do so by calling on friends in the government. A Florida State representative happened to be his neighbor and helped put the pressure on law enforcement to issue the alert. The reason they had hesitated was their insistence that Devin had appeared to leave the stadium voluntarily. There was no physical evidence of abduction or threat on the video. Devin was playing a hand-held video game and seemed to go with the two older boys without a sign of an argument or resistance.
That was bullshit!
Yes, Devin was . . . different. He had been diagnosed with a specialized form of autism—specifically a rare type that produced prodigious skills. Devin could recite or write down complex mathematical equations—some that covered hundreds of pages. He could list every city in every telephone area code and Zip code. It was no challenge for him to identify most classical music compositions after listening to only a few bars, and tell the date the music was written and the composer’s birth date and place of birth and death. By the time he was seven, he had read more than four thousand books and could recite the contents of any page from memory. He had been called an autistic savant by his doctors. Alan simply called his son’s talents a great gift.
Devin lived with extraordinary ability and disability. He was resistant to change, had difficulty expressing his needs, and had no real fear of danger. One of the most prominent symptoms of his autism was poor social interaction. Even as a baby he had stiffened when someone held him. Devin never would have voluntarily left the stadium with a stranger. That would be impossible for him.
Alan glanced across his penthouse office through a door to an adjoining room—a playroom for Devin with a small desk in the far corner—one he had set up for Devin where his son would come and spend the afternoon after school. Devin loved to play video games so Alan had his favorites installed on the CyberSys central server and placed a workstation on the boy’s desk. Even now, he could easily picture his son sitting at the desk for countless hours, engrossed in war games—his favorites. Devin even had his father show him how to access and view the code engines that made the games work. He could recite any portion of the code back to Alan, to the amazement of the CyberSys senior engineers.
Devin was special, loved . . . and missing.
Once again, Alan went to the window. A cruise ship navigated Government Cut leading from the Atlantic into the Port of Miami. Traffic along the MacArthur Causeway shimmered in the South Florida sun. The high-rises along Miami Beach formed a jagged spine along the horizon.
Life went on.
Alan was imploding. All he ever wanted was for Devin to live a normal life. He despised the label of autistic savant and everyone’s quick association with the character in Rain Man.
There was one other label attached to his son, one that he chose not to mention to the police. The one that had inspired the color of the corporate thunderbolt logo.
Indigo.
magic kingdom
Daylight seeped through the slats in the blinds, forming a ladder of light on the van window. Lindsay thought she had only just fallen asleep. The grumbling engines of eighteen-wheelers pulling in and out of the truck stop had gone on all night, but at dawn the number rose substantially as the big rigs got on their way.
Lindsay sat up and rolled her head, stretching the tight muscles in her neck. When they left Loretto, she hadn’t been certain where they were going—only that they needed to leave and not come back. Sometime during their all-night journey, she decided on what might be the safest place for Tera. She had heard an old saying that to keep something from being found, hide it in plain sight. So she had decided to take Tera to a place where she would be surrounded by thousands of kids.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Lindsay said, sweeping Tera’s hair from her face. “We’ve got to get this show on the road. I have a surprise for you.”
“What?” Tera said, her voice soft with sleep.
“You’ll see.”
“My throat hurts,” Tera said, sitting up.
Lindsay pressed her palm to Tera’s forehead. She felt warm. Shit, Tera had a fever. She grabbed her purse and fumbled through it, latching on to a bottle of Tylenol. Pouring a tablet into her palm, she retrieved a half-consumed bottle of water from the drink holder.
“Okay, lazybones, swallow this, then we’ll go take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
Later, inside the truck stop travel center, Lindsay bought some toiletry essentials she had forgotten to pack in the frenzy of leaving their farmhouse. She paid $2.00 for a shower and was given a towel.
“Can I have one more for my daughter?” Lindsay asked the clerk.
“You only paid for one shower.”
“Please,” Lindsay said.
The clerk stared at her for a minute, then acquiesced.
“Thanks.”
The multi-showers were self-contained, each having a small but dry area to dress.
“All right, Ladybug,” Lindsay said. “Off with your jammies.”
Lindsay adjusted the temperature of the shower and was the first in the stall. Tera followed.
“Just like camping, isn’t it, Tera?” Lindsay said, shampooing her hair. She closed her eyes to rinse. Over the rush of the cascading water she heard a sound like the rattling of the door. Lindsay vigorously washed the shampoo from her face, trying to see her surroundings.
“Tera?” She reached out to touch her daughter with one hand while wiping the water from her eyes with the other. Squinting through the foam that still dripped into her eyes, she focused on her daughter who was blowing soap bubbles from the ring she made with her thumb and forefinger.
Damn, Lindsay thought. Paranoia runs deep.
_____
“Feeling better?” Lindsay asked through the van window as she finished filling the tank with gas.
Tera nodded. “Where are we going?”
Lindsay climbed in and turned on the ignition. “If you could go anywhere, where would that be?”
“Heaven,” Tera said.
Lindsay’s heart stuttered, and she felt the blood drain from her face. �
�No, baby,” she said, her voice lacking the exhilaration it had a moment before. “I mean if we could go on a vacation, a really wonderful place, where would you want to go?”
Tera’s face beamed. “Disney World.”
Lindsay pulled out onto the Interstate. “Then Disney World it is.”
Tera gleefully clapped her hands. “Yay, Disney World!”
The sight of Tera’s excitement sent a flurry of emotions through her mother. Lindsay didn’t get too many glimpses of her daughter being just a happy little girl, and so she cherished this fleeting moment.
By afternoon, they reached Orlando. It seemed like the whole area was a theme park, lit from corner to corner with neon, strobe, and animation. Every store, every gas station, motel, and restaurant along International Drive competed for tourists.
Lindsay pulled into the parking lot of a bungee jumping site. She felt Tera’s forehead. It was slightly warmer than it should be, but not too hot. Maybe just the onset of a cold, Lindsay hoped. “How’s your throat feel?”
“A little bit sore.”
No more truck stops for now, Lindsay decided. If Tera was getting sick, she needed a good night’s sleep and the comfort of a real bed. “Well, here’s the deal, Ladybug. We’re going to find a nice motel, take a nap, and chill out this afternoon. Then we’ll go pick out a Mickey Mouse shirt and hat and get a bite to eat at some really cool restaurant. And tomorrow, when you feel better, we’ll tackle the Magic Kingdom. How does that sound?”
Tera stretched to look out the windows. “I want to go now,” she said.
“Me, too. But I think we’d better give your throat a chance to get better. You won’t enjoy it as much if you aren’t feeling up to snuff.”
_____
Inside the $39.99-a-night room of the Tropical Breeze Motel, the cheapest she could find, Lindsay dropped on the end of the bed.
Tera hopped up and started jumping.
“Guess you are feeling better,” Lindsay said. “Hey, you’re going to bust your noggin.” She grabbed Tera’s legs and brought her down. Lindsay tickled Tera’s sides, loving the solid, uncontrolled belly laugh from her daughter.
“Who loves you, Ladybug?”
“You do,” Tera said.
“That’s right.” She hugged Tera and kissed the top of her head. A moment of silence passed. Nobody would ever take Tera from her. Nobody.
“After a little nap, we’ll find that Mickey shirt and hat.” Lindsay pulled down the covers and they snuggled beneath.
_____
Lindsay was drawn awake by a tapping on her shoulder.
“Mom. Momma.”
It was Tera’s soft voice, nearly a whisper.
Lindsay turned over to see her daughter staring down at her.
“Can we go now? My throat hardly hurts at all.”
It was 4:48 PM on the nightstand clock. “Wow, we must have been tired. I was sleeping hard.” Lindsay yawned as she sat up. “So, are you ready to do a little shopping?”
Tera’s face lit up.
“Let me make one phone call first,” Lindsay said, reaching for the phone. She took the paper from her pocket that had Cotten’s cell number written on it. After charging the call to her room, Lindsay finally heard the ring at the other end, but was disappointed when she only reached Cotten’s voice mail.
“Hi Cotten, it’s Lindsay. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait any longer for you. Tera and I had to leave. Hope you found my note. We’re in Orlando. I decided to take Tera to Disney World where she’ll blend in with all the other kids. I’m going to try to stay inside the park, but don’t know how much it’s going to cost or how long I can afford it. I’ll call you back with specifics. Please come. I’ll find some way to repay your expenses.” She paused a moment wondering if there were something else she should say. She glanced at Tera, then said, “Thanks, Cotten.”
Lindsay put the receiver in the cradle. “Okay, then let’s get going,” she said getting to her feet. As Lindsay rounded the bed she noticed a motel notepad and a pencil were on the floor. Several sheets were torn off and scattered about. Tera’s sketches. “So, you’ve been awake for a while.”
“Yep,” Tera said.
Lindsay stooped to pick up the papers. “What have we got here?” But before she could collect the papers, Tera burst from behind her and scooped them all up.
“One of them is a surprise for you,” she said. “You had a surprise for me, and I have one for you.”
“What is it?” Lindsay asked, her lips spreading into a smile.
“There are really two surprises.” Tera sorted through the papers. “This one,” she said, holding out a sheet to her mother. “And this one.” Tera held a second paper to her heart.
“Oh, Tera,” Lindsay said when she had finished reading a lovely poem her daughter had written about a mother’s love. “Every word is true. I do love you just that way.”
Tera held out the other piece of paper. Lindsay took it, stared at it, and then her gaze shifted to her daughter. She shook her head, confused and astounded. “How, Tera? How did you . . .” She was so astonished she didn’t know what to say.
Lindsay set both papers on the dresser and knelt down to be at eye level with her daughter. She held Tera’s face in her palms. “You are incredible, Tera Jordan. You always amaze me. And I love your double surprise.” Lindsay touched the sketch. “But how do you know what she looks like?”
Tera broke into a wide grin, and her eyes sparkled like the stars in the heavens.
“Because she’s my sister. My twin sister.”
storm
Leaning against the railing on the front porch of his mountainside cabin, Ben Ray stared out over the thick forest. Bathed with the vibrant morning sun, the fall leaves turned the valley beyond into myriad tones of orange, red, and yellow. The weather had cooled from the previous day—the chilly autumn temperature made him shiver. From the deck, he watched the wind brush across the valley treetops like a hand through fur.
Ben had not slept well, tossing and turning for hours. When he closed his eyes, he saw the blindfolded boy, hands tied, being jerked from the van like discarded trash. When he stared into the darkness of his bedroom, he heard the edgy voice of the bearded man in the windbreaker. The scene played out over and over through the night.
Ben’s reaction to the boy made no sense. After all, he was labeled as “the iceman” in the press—the CEO who had stood by and knowingly let the life savings of thousands of hardworking employees turn to vapor while he bled his company dry. He watched the falsely inflated value of the corporation’s stock rise like a Roman candle, only to explode and die a quick death. And through it all, he slept soundly every night. But there was something different about what happened in the woods the previous day. Maybe it was because the boy seemed so helpless, blindfolded and standing on shaky legs beside the meadow.
Ben was not proud of what he and his partner did to their company. Happy that he was rich and not going to prison, but not proud. Maybe it was because he never saw the faces of those who went down with the corporate ship. Actually, he never saw the face of the boy in the woods, either. But he knew he was real. Alone. Helpless.
If he went looking for the kid, chances were he would find nothing, anyway. The Ozark National Forest was a big place—more than a million acres. The road might go on for miles. Maybe the van was just passing through, taking a shortcut.
But what if the boy was in real danger? Would it be worth the risk to try to find him? So far, Ben had managed to stay hidden from the outside world. He limited his trips into town for supplies and gas to once a month, usually around midmorning on a Monday when everyone was at work. No one seemed to waste time looking at a short, pudgy man minding his own business. They were too annoyed that the weekend was over.
Going to look for the boy would be outside Ben’s game plan. It would take him into the unk
nown, and remove his ability to control his environment. That was not part of his nature. He had to be in control, or control those who were.
A casual drive along the logging road was all Ben would do—nothing more. It was a big forest, and he was still a shadow in its midst. With a cautious nod, he turned away from the autumn view.
Dressed in jeans, hiking boots, and a flannel shirt, he slipped on a jacket before heading down the stairs. Backing the Wrangler out of the carport, he steered up the dirt drive, and a half-mile later he emerged on a two-lane blacktop country road that ran along the border between his property and the National Forest.
Turning east, he drove at a leisurely pace, scanning the tree line for the entrance to the logging road. He saw one other vehicle—a green Forestry Service pickup coming from the other direction. The ranger gave him a friendly wave and he returned the greeting. Ben watched the truck fade in his rearview mirror.
Soon he spotted the turnoff to the logging road. Rarely used, it resembled two parallel ruts with a high grass backbone that disappeared into the dark woods. Ben put the Jeep in four-wheel-drive before leaving the blacktop.
As he entered the forest, the sun fought to penetrate the swaying trees, creating ever-changing patches of light and dark. The woods still retained its brilliant foliage even though most of October had slipped away.
The road threaded through a valley bounded on each side by sloping bluffs and dense underbrush. After ten minutes, Ben spotted the meadow where he had first seen the white van. He stopped long enough to open his thermos and take a sip of steaming coffee while he listened to the wind and the distant call of a crow. He wondered about the deer he met yesterday along the banks of Stone Creek Lake. It was hunting season.
Closing the thermos and setting it behind the passenger’s seat, he cranked the Jeep and drove on.
The road followed along the floor of the valley. Ben caught glimpses through the trees of the steep mountain slopes that bordered the road. He became aware of rushing water and soon came upon a small, swift stream flowing parallel to the road. The water swept over rocks and deadfall in the same direction he traveled, telling him that he was headed in a gradual downward grade.