Stealing Her

by Alexis Abbott

“Wh-what?” I gasp. “You are?”

  “Yes,” he says, nodding. “But there are conditions.”

  Lila

  The house looks the same as it ever did.

  I don’t know why I thought it would be different somehow. As though my absence would show on the outside, making the topiary shapes droop sadly or that the color of the paint would be duller than usual. But it looks no different. No hints at all that something is terribly wrong, that someone is missing from the picture.

  I stand in the elegantly-designed front yard of my home, staring up at the window where I know my father’s office is located. I’m dressed in my MIT sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, my hair neatly brushed back into a flouncy ponytail. I don’t look as though I’ve been through the wringer. I look pretty normal, like any other student returning home after a trip abroad.

  Only I’m not returning home with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I’m not here to hug my father and drop off into bed to sleep off jet lag or whatever. I’m here to get answers.

  My hand fumbles absently to my back pocket, hidden underneath the bottom of my sweatshirt, to feel around for the burner phone stowed back there. It feels a little weird showing up here without Henry, but Chains and I both agreed it was safer to keep him behind at the complex, just in case things turn sour here.

  I can’t pretend like I don’t suspect it’s partly a collateral situation: if they still have Henry, they can leverage me to come back instead of running off to the police. Not that I want to do that in the first place. I’m not interested in taking down Chains and his whole illegal enterprise. I just want to know the truth, regardless of how ugly or painful it may be.

  It’s time to ask Daddy some difficult questions.

  And a lot will be gained just from gauging his reaction to my sudden, triumphant return. Every cell in my body rings with frantic anxiety as I walk up the front steps of the only home I’ve ever known other than my school apartment. I don’t have my keys or any of my stuff, of course, since it’s all still confiscated at the complex. Chains wants this to be as clean as possible, so he simply drove me to my old neighborhood and dropped me off around the corner, leaving me to walk the two minutes to the house. I lift a trembling fist and knock at the door, swallowing back the lump of fear in my throat. I stand here waiting impatiently for him to answer the door. I know he’s home. His fancy car is in the garage.

  Besides, I can feel his presence.

  Heavy.

  Oppressive.

  Distant.

  Yep. That’s my father, alright.

  I rock back and forth on the balls of my feet, listening intently for any sounds of life inside the house. Finally, my stomach starts to churn as I hear footsteps approaching. It’s unmistakable: the slow, even, loafer-heavy footsteps of my father. When he opens the door, he’s wearing his usual business suit with a sleek housecoat on over it, a highball in his left hand. At first, he just looks stunned and confused to see me, then he remembers to force a smile.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I say, following suit and hitching a smile to my lips. “I’m home.”

  “Oh, my sweet little girl!” he exclaims, ushering me into the house and closing the door behind me. He reaches out to stroke my cheek, tilting his head to one side slightly as he looks me over, up and down. “I was worried sick!” he adds, rather unconvincingly.

  I can’t believe I never noticed it before: the strange disingenuous tone of his voice when he speaks to me. It’s always been there, and yet I never paid much attention. I suppose I believed what I wanted to believe. It’s easier to live in denial than to admit to yourself that your own father doesn’t actually like you all that much.

  “Were you?” I ask, a little sharply.

  A flicker of darkness crosses his face and he lets his hand fall back to his side, easing it into a fur-lined pocket. He widens his smile, but it doesn’t reach his beady eyes.

  “Of course, my darling. I missed you terribly. The house has been very empty without you in it,” he says. “How are you? Are you hurt at all? Should I call for a nurse?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m okay. Just shaken, is all. I mean, I was kidnapped for ransom.”

  He heaves a dramatic sigh. “Ransom? My god. I can’t believe those lunatics would do such a thing to you! I apologize, sweetheart. You never should have had to go through this.”

  “You didn’t pay the ransom, Daddy,” I point out innocently. “Why? I don’t understand. Don’t we have the money?”

  He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink, then gestures for me to follow him into the sitting room off to our left. I trail after him, glaring at the back of his head as he lies eloquently to me. “Oh, of course, but I knew better than to try and negotiate with a bunch of filthy delinquents. I knew they would release you sooner or later of their own accord, once they realized I wasn’t going to pay them for the trouble.”

  I can feel my heart breaking into tiny pieces. This is exactly the kind of emotionless reasoning he’s always given me when I ask hard questions. He doesn’t even flinch. This is easy for him. He was never worried about me. Not even for a second. Chains is right.

  “So instead of shelling out the money to ensure the safety of your only child, you decided to call their bluff?” I ask angrily.

  Daddy turns and gives me a startled expression as he sits down on the chaise lounge, gently swirling his glass in one hand. I can tell he’s taken aback by my anger. He’s not used to it. Usually, I just bend to his will. But not this time. I know better now.

  “You’re studying business, Lila,” he says slowly. “You know the importance of standing one’s ground in the face of a sour deal.”

  “So, paying to get me back was a ‘sour deal’ in your eyes,” I surmise, folding my arms over my chest indignantly.

  He stiffens up, glaring at me coldly. “I thought you of all people would understand the necessity of logical thinking in the face of illogical circumstances. One must remain calm and refuse to give into demands.”

  “Even if it means they could have killed me,” I counter.

  He pauses, just watching me. I can tell he’s disturbed by the change in my behavior. Finally, he just gives me another false smile.

  “Like I said before, dear, I knew they would never do such a thing. Too risky,” he says. “And look! I was right. They’ve set you free, and I never had to pay a penny. Now, tell me all about these awful men. I want to know everything.”

  I see right through him. Chains prepared me for this. He knew my father would want more information. To make sure he did a good enough job of scaring them away that night when he retaliated against Chains and his gang. So I sit down on the vintage sofa opposite my father and open up, giving him the exact information Chains fed me to “test” Daddy.

  “They told me all kinds of wild stories, Daddy,” I begin, feigning confusion. “They said my mother is still alive. That you paid her off to stay away.”

  There’s a moment of intense rage in his eyes, a fire so furious and bright it scares me. And then he forces a laugh which does not reach his eyes. “Liars and cheats, all of them. You can’t believe a word they say, my dear,” my father tells me. “They were just trying to get inside your head. And it looks as though they succeeded.”

  Ah yes. There’s the insult. Of course.

  “That’s not all they told me,” I reply icily. “They also told me all about your business, what you’ve been doing to get all this money. Causing foreclosures. Buying up cheap houses. Forcing innocent, good people out of their homes.”

  He rolls his eyes and takes another drink of his booze. “Yes, yes. That’s no secret, Lila. That’s the way it works in this industry,” he says.

  “So you don’t deny it at all?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

  “Of course not. I’m proud of my work,” Daddy declares with a fiendish smirk. “I do what I have to do to make money. Don’t you like wearing nice clothes? Don’t you like driving a fancy car? Well, then, you have to take the bad with th
e good. It may sound callous to you, but that’s what it means to be a good businessman. You must be an opportunist. And now that you’re studying at MIT, I have high hopes that you will grow to be an even better businessman than I am. That is my dream for you, Lila. It is every father’s dream for his little girl.”

  I stare at him, totally at a loss. I can’t believe how unashamed he is. How did I never see this before? How blind could I have been? Suddenly, a question crowds into the forefront of my mind and I know I can’t push it back down.

  “Daddy,” I blurt out, “do you even love me?”

  He blinks in surprise at the question, pausing to squint at me. The pause is more than enough to answer my question, but then he simply says, “Well, of course, I do. Why would you even ask such a horrible question?”

  But there’s no affection in his tone. Nothing but cold lies.

  I have my truth. I only wish I could have learned it sooner.

  “And now don’t you worry about those criminals who took you, dear,” he says, quickly changing the subject. “I have, ah, professionals on the job who can take care of them.”

  My stomach flips at that statement and immediately I fear for Chains and his gang. I’ll never forgive myself if my actions put them all in jeopardy. I’m about to say something to protest when suddenly the house phone rings in the kitchen. Across the house, I hear the caller ID announce, “Call from: Cassandra Womack.”

  I nearly trip over my own feet in my haste to get to the kitchen and answer the phone. My hand shaking, I grab the phone off the dock and press it to my ear. “Hello? Cassandra?” I answer.

  “Oh, hey! You’re awake! It’s so good to hear your voice again, Lila, I was starting to get really worried there for a minute. I kept calling but your dad said you were sleeping every time. What is it? Mono?” she says conversationally.

  “Uh, yeah. Yes. Mono,” I lie quickly.

  “Aw man. That sucks. Is Henry keeping you company?” she asks.

  “Yep. He’s been very, uh, attentive,” I answer.

  “Good. Good. He’s such a great dog. I wish I had one just like him,” Cassandra says. “Oh! That reminds me: I got those photos developed finally. They turned out really well! I can’t wait to show you.”

  “The photos of Henry?” I ask, a little absentmindedly.

  “Oh no. Not those. The ones we took a while back. Remember? When we went to that creepy old burned-down house?”

  I freeze up. I had totally forgotten about that.

  “Oh. Um, yeah! I remember,” I tell her.

  “Yeah, that was fun. We should do that again sometime,” she muses. “Anyway, I was going through the photos and I found something kind of weird, actually.”

  “Something weird?” I repeat, frowning.

  “Yeah,” she says, a little hesitantly. She lowers her voice. “Okay, to be honest, I don’t know if it’s something we should talk about over the phone, and I didn’t want to worry you about it while you were sick, but—”

  “Just tell me. I’m still pretty sick but I can handle it, I swear,” I insist.

  “Oh, uh, okay! If you’re sure,” Cassandra says a little dubiously. “So, I found this weird half-burnt letter in the rubble. It’s addressed to… well, your dad.”

  “My father?” I breathe. “Tell me what it says, Cassandra. Tell me everything.”

  “I’m probably misinterpreting it or overthinking it or maybe it’s a different Edward Hawthorne, but… it’s a letter accusing him of something called ‘foreclosure fraud’ and the letter-writer is threatening to go to the press about it if he doesn’t stop,” she reveals.

  My blood runs cold and I glance back toward the living room, suddenly terrified that my father might be somehow listening in on our conversation. I need to hang up and get out of here.

  Now.

  “Wow, that is super weird,” I say quickly. “Uh, hey, can I call you back later?”

  “Oh. Um, sure! Of course! Feel better soon!” she chimes.

  “Thanks,” I reply and hang up. I stand there for a moment, just taking slow, deep breaths. I have to find a way out of here. I don’t want to try and call Chains just yet. Not while Daddy is right around the corner. Our house is big, but it’s also empty and silent. He could hear everything.

  So I calmly walk back into the living room, wearing the sweetest smile I can summon up, and ask my father, “Hey Daddy, could you do me a favor? Those bad men still have my car, and I really need a ride to campus for… for some school stuff. It’s important.”

  He looks at me hard, like he’s trying to read my mind. Then, suddenly, he glances away and finishes his drink in one sip, standing up. “Actually, dear, I do have some work business to tend to up in my office. I don’t think I have the time to take you there at the moment,” he says.

  I gape at him in disbelief. I’ve just returned from being held for ransom and not only is he not completely overjoyed to see me, but he’s immediately back to dismissing me? He can’t even spare the forty-five minutes it would take to drive me to campus?

  “Daddy, I really need to go there. Now. Please,” I beg him.

  He scoffs and starts to walk away. “Perhaps your time in captivity has changed you. Stop acting like a petulant child. I said no,” he answers coldly.

  I stare after him as he disappears down the hallway. Tears prickle up in my eyes but I clench my fists, forcing myself not to cry over him. He doesn’t deserve my tears. Or my love. Or my mercy. I trail after him, making sure to walk heavily so that my footsteps are louder. I want him to know I’m coming. I want him to acknowledge me for once in my damn life.

  “Daddy!” I call out sharply. “Daddy, are you lying to me about my mother?”

  He stops short and pauses before slowly turning to glare back at me. I feel a shiver run down my spine. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so afraid. Not even when I was captured on campus that fateful day. This… this is worse.

  “Listen to me, Lila,” he hisses. “Your mother is dead. She has been dead all this time. Do not ask me anymore questions about her.”

  I take an aggressive step forward, holding my head up defiantly. “I have another question for you, Daddy,” I tell him. “Do you have a soul? At all?”

  He rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. “Now, what the hell kind of a question is that? Where do you get the nerve?” he snarls.

  “Here’s another question: how did it feel to commit arson? How did it feel to take away a man’s home? How did it feel to ruin his whole life just for some stupid money?” I accuse.

  That fire in Daddy’s eyes sparks brighter and I know I’m in trouble. He lifts his arm and violently smacks me across the cheek. I clap a hand over the stinging pain, staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed. I can’t believe he laid a hand on me. My whole body is on fire. I feel like I’m looking into the soulless, empty eyes of a stranger.

  There’s no apology in his face when he leans in close and whispers, “I would have expected your time in captivity to help you grow up a little, but I can see now I was wrong.”

  With that, he turns on his heel and storms away up the stairs to his office, leaving me to stand at the bottom of the staircase, breathing heavily and trying my damnedest not to cry. My cheek stings, but nowhere near as badly as my heart does. Suddenly, I know what I have to do. I know where my loyalties lie.

  I march right out of the house and down the front path to lean against the mailbox, taking out the burner phone with both hands shaking. I press the speed dial digit for Chains and hold the phone to my ear, hyperventilating. The cool air makes my cheek burn even more as I listen to the line ring once, twice, three times. I’m about to lose all hope when there’s a click.

  “Lila,” I hear Chains answer fervently. My heart swells with affection at the sound of his familiar, warm voice. Finally, the tears start to fall. I can’t hold them back anymore.

  “Chains,” I reply, sniffling. “You were right. About Daddy, about everything.”

  “Are you oka
y?” he asks with genuine concern.

  “Yes,” I answer at first, then hang my head and add softly, “no. I’m not okay. I’m ready to do whatever you need me to do now. Please just… don’t leave me here with him. I found out so much more— I’ll tell you everything.”

  Chains

  I’m already inside her apartment a few minutes later when I get the text that she’s on her way upstairs. Being used to breaking into places as much as I do makes you see locks as more of an inconvenience than a security system. I send her a quick text to let her know I’m here so she doesn’t get scared out of her skin.

  Honestly, I’m amazed this is even happening.

  When I let her go, I was fully expecting her to run off either back to her father or off on her own, doing whatever she had to do to snap herself out of it and get back to her life. I already packed an emergency bag, just in case she decides to go to the police and point them to us as best she can.

  Instead, she’s ready to play ball, and in a bigger way than I expected.

  I’m leaning against the hallway wall when she opens the door, and despite my warning, she jumps and gasps at the sight of me before relaxing and smiling nervously.

  “Scare you?” I ask.

  “I might have a little bit of a reaction to tall men standing in the shadows now, thanks to you,” she teases with a wink.

  I chuckle, striding across the room and wrapping her in my arms before I kiss her on the forehead.

  “Unless there’s a SWAT team waiting for me outside,” I say, “I’m glad you called me. Let’s get to work.”

  I gesture to the table and lead her over to my open laptop, pulling up a chair for her before taking a seat myself. I have some information pulled up on the screen— stuff I’ve been saving for a rainy day like this over the years.

  “I’ve heard about that property you mentioned,” I say. “I looked into it some time ago. It was one of my first brushes with your dad’s…uh…line of work.”

  “Did you…?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.