I hoped our mistake last night wouldn’t come back to haunt us.
No sooner had I pulled on my sneakers than my phone buzzed by the table stand. At first, I ignored it, thinking it was just Joey, as I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to tame my wet curls. Then, it buzzed again and again, the screen lighting up with an incoming call.
Crap. I checked it.
Mom.
She’d also called six other times.
My heart dropped. Was Zoey sick again? I couldn’t deal with this again this week. Maybe it was that hike in the cold air, and this was all Joey’s fault.
I swiped to answer before my thoughts ran away with me. I’m sure it was just my frantic mother wondering why Zoey didn’t like mashed green beans or something.
“Hey, Mom, sorry, I had my phone on silent last night.”
“Abigail! Thank God!” she nearly screamed. “You have to get over here right now!”
I had never heard her so upset. I nearly dropped the phone. Dad, Lettie, had something… “Mom, what—?”
“Zoey’s gone!”
“What?” I shrieked.
“Someone took her! I called the police.” My mother broke into a sob. “Hurry, Abby, please.”
I jumped to my feet and raced down the stairs to where my purse was still laying, forgotten, by the front door where it had fallen the night before. I rummaged for my keys and came up empty.
“Shit!” I screamed, pounding my fist against the front door. My car was still at the bowling alley from yesterday! Lettie still had my keys! In everything with Joey, I hadn’t even bothered to remind her.
I had to get to my parents’, and now. I threw the door open, fully ready to jog to the bus stop. It would take fifteen minutes to get to the next stop, but it was better than nothing. I couldn’t figure out my car now.
The door opened right into the surprised face of my sister, her hand still raised on the doorbell.
I nearly passed out with relief. The idea of worrying about Zoey on the bus was killing me.
“Abby!” she yelped, holding my keys out with her other hand. “I’m so sorry I forgot. I went and got your car for you. You weren’t answering your phone last night. Hey—”
I snatched the keys from her and pushed past her, slamming the door behind me. “Zoey’s been taken!”
“What!” Lettie yelled behind me.
“I’m headed to Mom’s!”
Lettie’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve got to call work, but I’m coming, too!”
It’s a miracle I made it to my parents’ house a few miles across town without a ticket. I ran two stop signs—thank God no one else was coming—and sped through a residential area as a shortcut. Lettie didn’t say a damn thing. My mind couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. Gone? What? I was partially numb. I couldn’t focus.
I jammed the car into park behind a city police car, while Lettie was still fumbling with her phone and trying to call into work. I raced up the front steps, throwing the front door open. My mother and father were sitting on the couch in the living room right inside the front, holding hands. A uniformed police officer sat opposite them, a notebook in his hand. He looked up as I entered.
“Where’s my daughter?” I strode past them and down the hall to my old bedroom, the one my father had redesigned for Zoey when she came to visit. The room was immaculate as usual, the crib against the window empty except for the pink crocheted blanket that belonged to me as a child. The window was open wide, and the screen had been slit right down the middle and pried open. The hole was only big enough to reach though, so there was no way someone had climbed through.
I raced back to the living room, bracing myself on the edge of the couch before I passed out. “Zoey, where’s Zoey?” I asked again. “Who took her?”
My mother stood and rounded the couch, hugging me tight. Tears were still streaming down her face. My father’s stoic banker face was distraught as well.
The police officer stood up, his pen at the ready. “Are you Mrs. Years? Zoey’s mother?”
“Yes,” I said. I gave him my information.
“Mrs. Years, I’m so sorry this happened. I’ve already radioed this into the station and we have an amber alert out statewide. I just need to ask you, is there an estranged parent possibly?”
I shook my head. I could barely focus. “Her father died. A year ago.”
“Grandparent, maybe?”
I started to shake my head again. My parents were in the room.
Then it hit me. Cheryl.
“Yesterday I ran into my late husband’s mother and brother. They were upset with me.”
“Why is that?” the officer pressed.
I looked at my mother. I was having trouble with words.
“You saw Cheryl?” my mother prompted softly. “Where? I thought she was in Europe?”
“She came back. Her health is bad,” I answered.
“Did you have an altercation yesterday?” the cop interrupted. “Where did this occur?”
I stared at him, trying to focus on the shiny badge on his chest to ground myself. Gritting my teeth, I concentrated as best I could. “At Marlita’s, about one in the afternoon. And not me, directly. My friend, Joseph Harrison, was with me.”
My father lifted an eyebrow, but I ignored him.
“Do you have his contact information?” the officer asked.
I rattled his number and address off by heart.
“Thanks. Now, what happened during this incident?”
I relayed as much as I could remember. As I talked, I felt my pulse slow to normal speed and my heart beat regulate, but I was still in panic mode. Words were hard.
“Why didn’t anyone call the police?” the officer prompted gently.
“He didn’t hit him that I recall. Just pushed him to the ground. I didn’t really see. I’m sorry, you’ll have to ask Joey the rest.”
My mother pulled a chair form the kitchen and I collapsed into it.
“Do you think this” he looked at his notes, “Malachai Years had something do with your daughter’s kidnapping?”
I stared up at the officer. “I’m sure of it, actually.”
“Any idea why he would do such a thing?”
My mother answered for me. “When Abby lived here shortly after her husband died, Cheryl, Malachai’s mother, used to come by unannounced and demand to see Zoey. Abby’s husband committed suicide. It was hard on everyone, especially his mother. Abby refused to let her see Zoey at the time. I think she took it hard.”
“I see,” the cop answered. He came around the couch and put an arm on my shoulder. “Well, I’m fairly confident we can find your daughter. I have one more question, but then you should get some rest, Mrs. Years.”
No shit, I was up all night having sex, my mind protested, but I bit my tongue to avoid an awkward outburst. I was angrier that he was still standing here talking to me and not finding Zoey.
“Do you know where Mr. Years is living at this time?”
“Probably with his mother, out at the resort. I don’t know what their exact address is,” I answered slowly. I wrung my hands together, hard.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Years. Mr. Jameson, Mrs. Jameson.” He nodded to my parents. “I’ve got to relay this to my partners. I will be in touch.” He handed all three of us his cards and turned to let himself out the front door.
“Oh, one more thing, I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “Do you believe Mr. Harrison is in any danger after this altercation yesterday?”
I stared at him.
My father spoke, finally. “Joey was in the Marines for eight years. That boy can take care of himself. It’s Malachai you need to worry about.”
“Understood,” the cop replied. He closed the door behind him.
I turned the card in my hand. Officer Garrett Knowles. I went to tuck it safety in my purse, only to realize I had left it in the car.
Standing, my legs wobbly, I pushed past my sister as she walked in the front door. Mumbli
ng about needing my phone, I stumbled out to my car just as Officer Knowles pulled away from the curb.
Completely drained of energy, I fell across the front seat and fetched my phone from my purse. My fingers didn’t work for texting, so I dialed his number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Ab? Everything okay?”
“No,” I nearly choked on a sob that came so suddenly even I was startled. I almost never cried. “Zoey’s been kidnapped. Malachai took her.”
“Took her? What do you mean?” Joey’s voice was surprised, confused. “Are you at home? I’m on my way back over. I’m literally at the minimart getting coffee down the street.”
“I’m at my parents,” I said lamely. I didn’t know what else to add that didn’t sound like begging. But God, I needed him right now.
“I’m on my way.” He hung up before I could protest.
Chapter 9
Jo-Jo: I had fun last night.
Abby Girl: Me too
Jo-Jo: I leave on the 5th. Come see me off?
Abby Girl: That’s the first day of term.
Jo-Jo: Oh. So you’re busy?
Abby Girl: I can’t skip the first day of class.
Jo-Jo: Alright. Have fun in college, I guess.
Abby Girl: Are u mad or something?
Jo-Jo: I was just hoping to see you before I left. They are sending me to Fallujah.
Abby Girl: Stay safe.
Jo-Jo: That’s it?
Abby Girl: Joey, come on. I’ve got college, you’ve got the military. Last night was fun, but life moves on.
Jo-Jo: You’ll write me, yeah? I’m not sure we will have text service over there.
Abby Girl: Yeah, I’ll try.
Jo-Jo: Promise me you will?
I was still riding my high from the night before with Abby when I exited the mini-mart, hot coffee in hand, thinking about the last time I talked to her after high school. She’d kept that promise at least, to try to stay in contact, but it hadn’t lasted long. Not that it was entirely her fault, I tried to remember—it had been hard to keep up with a text message in a warzone with people who want to kill you. I didn’t regret one minute of our lost time, though. Having her in my arms, finally, was the sweetest thing I could ever come home to. If last night was any indication, I knew she felt the same.
I tucked the steaming black coffee between my legs and started the truck engine. The cashier had frowned at me when she saw my coffee was black. In fact, she tried to tell me where the creamer was. Disgusting. I didn’t spend eight years in the Marines to not learn how to drink coffee like a real man.
Last night I’d shown Abby what a real man was, that’s for sure.
God, I just couldn’t get her out of my head. She was ten times more beautiful without that dress on. The image of her voluptuous body curving under my fingertips was burned into my brain. As a result, I couldn’t stop smiling this morning. I could finally pinpoint how I felt this morning: it was like my first Christmas coming home after eight years without one; and Abby had been the best present of all.
Abby had broken some promises in the past, but when I had promised to make her feel alive, you can bet your ass I was cashing in on that. And I did a few times.
So yeah, I was feeling pretty damn good this morning, despite the fact we slept only about four hours last night. My only regret was it was Sunday and I knew she wouldn’t let that happen again until next weekend; her job meant too much to her. But a week of class knowing exactly what was under her dress? While hearing her lecture about old, dead, white dudes? Ugh, the torture. But then again, I wasn’t going to object.
My phone vibrated in the little holder on the dash. I’d have hell to pay at home; I missed the call last night when my mother and father had called and wanted to know where I was. I cursed myself for not sending them a text, but, well, I’d been distracted. Home three months from the Marines, and not once had I not been in bed by eight at night. It wasn’t like I was out skipping school or doing drugs. I’d never touched drugs in my life for that matter, and I fully planned on finishing my homework as soon as I got home.
The phone rang now, which was rare. Even my parents texted me, and my technology-challenged mother even preferred email as texts often confused her.
I pulled the truck back into park before I’d even backed out of the parking spot and reached for the phone.
I frowned at the caller ID. Abby? I’d left her house not an hour ago. Why would she call me so soon? I smiled, thinking maybe she couldn’t live without me. Things were moving fast, I’d admit, but last night had been the best night of my life. I made a mental note to tell her that the next time I saw her, but maybe not over the phone. A little part of me was worried, however, as I knew Abby hated phone calls as much as I did. I slid to answer as quickly as I could.
“Ab? Everything okay?”
Her broken sob on the other end, and her distraught announcement that Zoey was gone, tore my heart to pieces. Without even waiting to hear where she was, I peeled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, cutting some guy off in a Cadillac. Hot coffee spilled over the tight lid and onto my jeans as I hung up the phone. Yelping, I rolled down my window and tossed the entire thing out my window. It probably hit the caddy’s windshield. I didn’t care.
Zoey had been kidnapped.
There was no doubt in my mind that Evan’s crazy family was mixed up in this.
I briefly wondered how she’d got to her parents’ house so quickly but figured someone had taken her to her car or something and dismissed it. It took precisely six minutes before I pulled up behind her car. I hadn’t been here in eight years, but boy, did it look the same. The same abandoned planters were stacked in front of the house, a crazy art project her mother took up our Freshman year, although the pale green paint had been refreshed at some point on the house. A faded red birdhouse, Abby’s shop project in tenth grade, swung in the spring breeze from a branch on the tree in the front yard. That sapling had grown a lot in the last ten years.
I could see Abby was still sitting in the front seat of her car, which confused me for a minute, but I didn’t have time to waste. I pulled open her car door and she looked up at me. Her hair, still damp from her shower earlier, was all disheveled and frizzy now. She pushed the mop of hair from her eyes and got out of the car, stumbling into me.
I held her tight, wrapping my arms around her as she cried into my shoulder. We had always been the same height, but now she was slumped, and her head fit perfectly against me. I held her hair away from her face and tried to get a word of comfort out, but my mouth had gone completely dry.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” No response from her. “Abby. Did you call the police yet?”
“They just left,” she sniffed, looking up at me.
The rings around her eyes I’d seen this morning were much deeper now. “Do you want to go home?” I asked softly. “I’ll take you.”
She shook her head vigorously. “I should stay here. The cops might come back with more questions.”
“Abby!”
I hadn’t noticed her sister was running toward us. “I got my shift covered. What’s going on? Where’s Mom?”
Abby pulled away from me and hugged her sister instead. I stood there, feeling oddly like a third wheel, an invader, as Abby spilled the details to her sister. Details I hadn’t heard yet, so I listened intently, especially when she briefly mentioned our run-in with Evan’s mother and brother yesterday.
Malachai. My fists balled at my side. I knew it!
“Joseph Harrison!”
My head snapped up as I saw Abby’s father, who I remembered had run one of the banks in town but looked oddly casual today in a long-sleeved thermal shirt and plaid pajama pants, strode toward me. His face was red as he yanked up his sleeves, piling them around his elbow.
He was angrier than a pissed-off insurgent, and that triggered me into combat mode. I shoved my hands behind me and stood up straight as he approached.
“Is it true? Did you hi
t Malachai Years yesterday at Marlita’s?”
“Dad!” Abby yelled, and he stopped at the edge of the driveway to look at her, then back at me.
Ten feet between us, and though he had twenty years on me and easily sixty pounds, when it came to his daughters, no distance was enough. I switched combat mode off as quick as I could and decided on another strategy. I threw up my hands in front of my chest and backed up. “I didn’t hit him. Didn’t Abby tell you? He was in her face. I neutralized the situation.”
“Don’t use those military words on me, boy,” he spat at me. “Did you ever think maybe it would anger him and he’d do something like this? Take my granddaughter from my own home?”
I blinked. My upheld fingers twitched as if my finger was on a trigger. I’d been trained to shoot, not negotiate. But this was Abby’s dad, a man I certainly didn’t want to harm. Besides, I knew he had the double whammy: kidnapping and breaking and entering. Even I could tell he wasn’t just angry, but scared.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize.”
“You need to leave,” he huffed, taking another step toward me.
“I believe that’s up to Abby,” I started to say.
“How did he get here so fast, Abby?” her father turned to her, but he stepped even closer to me. “And why didn’t you answer your phone this morning?”
“I, uh…” Abby stuttered.
“Your mother saw him hugging you. What’s going on, Abby?”
I couldn’t have him turn his ire on her, too. I stepped in front of her, with her car to my back. “She didn’t answer her phone because she was with me!”
Shit. Why did I say that?
Behind me, Abby gasped.
I’d underestimated him, and Abby’s noise had distracted me. His threw his fist up, aiming straight for my face, and this time, I didn’t have time to duck.
Abby's Promise Page 9