Stolen

by James Hunt

  Lena wanted to believe him, but a pang of disgust soured her gut. “Can your car still run?”

  Ken glanced at the wreck and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Lena walked over to her car and cranked the key in the ignition. The engine choked and whined, and it took a few tries, but eventually it coughed to life. The whole car rattled when she shifted into reverse, but it moved.

  A larger hill, similar to the one she hid behind earlier, was less than fifty yards from where they wrecked. If they could get both cars to the other side, they’d be hidden from view until someone could come and pick them up. “Follow me over there.”

  The wrecked sedan complained all the way to the hill’s crest, and twice Lena thought the vehicle was going to die, but once she passed over the top, the downhill trip progressed without incident. Ken followed soon after, his BMW significantly more worn. It stalled halfway down the hill, but he managed to coast it the rest of the way. As Lena watched him climb out of the car she felt the weight of the pistol tucked in her belt.

  One shot. That’s all it would take. Flashes of their interactions with one another over the past several months played over and over in her mind. There was always something about him that she couldn’t place. She’d always chalked it up to his air of superiority, that he was compensating for something. She watched him lean up against her car and take off his jacket. “You never wear a wedding ring.”

  “What?” Ken asked, looking down to his left hand.

  “You’re married. I know you are. And there is only one reason for people that are married to not wear their ring, which is because you don’t want people to know you’re married.” From Lena’s experience in rehab, the main cause was infidelity, but there were others. She’d hidden her marriage in her final stint at rehab because she wanted to forget about Nick.

  Ken tossed his jacket over the hood and removed his phone, ignoring the statement. “So who’s going to pick us up?”

  Curiosity was getting the better of her, but time was short. “I’ll call my brother. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

  The moment Jake’s personal belongings were returned to him he jumped in his truck. It’d been weeks since he’d used it, preferring the sheriff’s truck, but with his badge and gun stripped it was his only choice.

  The inside of the cabin was similar to his work vehicle, minus the radio. But there was still a gun rack on the back window with a Mossberg with attached scope across the top rack. He shoved aside old pieces of fast food wrappers and slammed the truck in reverse, then peeled out of the parking lot.

  Once on the road and past the horde of reporters still camped out on Main Street, Jake dialed Kelly’s number. It rang and rang but continued to go to voice mail no matter how many times he called. He removed an empty beer can from the cupholder and replaced the aluminum with his phone. He reached over into the glove compartment, where he removed a 9mm Glock that he kept stashed inside. With one hand still on the wheel he balanced the weapon in his hands and checked the magazine to ensure it was loaded. It was.

  Jake floored the accelerator, the truck’s engine roaring down the highway toward Kelly’s trailer. He needed to explain to her what happened with Reese. He wanted her to hear the truth from him. He just hoped that she hadn’t turned on the news since this morning. Knowing her, he thought he’d be in the clear.

  The trailer windows were dark when Jake arrived. He hastily slammed the truck in park and leapt out. “Kelly?” The trailer door was locked when he reached for the handle. He pounded his fist into the wall, the flimsy material of the whole structure rattling with every strike. “Kelly! Are you in there? Open up!”

  No answer. Jake stepped over to the nearest window and pushed himself up on his toes to peer inside, but the curtains had been drawn. “Kelly, please, just let me explain. I’m sorry if I—”

  At first Jake thought it was just a trick of the sunlight, but when he leaned closer to examine the lock he saw a trickle of blood on the doorframe. He reached for the pistol and fired. One heavy shoulder check later, and he tumbled inside.

  “Kelly!” But the only thing Jake saw were the opened cupboards and the spilled contents from inside strewn about. The place was always messy, but what Jake saw was different, escalated. He waded through the trash and personal belongings of Reese and Kelly’s marriage, checking the bed, the bathroom, looking for any hints of what had happened. But all he could divulge from the scene was the fact that someone had broken in and wrecked the place.

  Still searching for anything, Jake reentered the small cubby space that acted as the bedroom. The sheets had been hurled off and thrown to the floor. Jake sat on the edge of the mattress, the springs squeaking slightly from his weight. He spread his palms flat and realized that if Kelly wasn’t here, then there wasn’t much of a chance that she was still alive.

  A sense of guilt and shame washed over Jake when he realized how little it affected him, but what surprised him more were the memories that flashed from his nights spent here, more nights than he cared to admit. At the end of the day he knew he was never going to be with her. He never wanted marriage. It was all just convenience. She was lonely. He didn’t want any attachments.

  Jake punched the mattress, his fist bouncing off the bed. He jumped up and stormed back outside, when he felt a buzz in his pocket. It was Lena. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Lena answered, her breath slightly labored. “But I need you to come and pick me up.”

  Jake climbed into his truck, keeping the pistol in his waistband. “Where are you?”

  “Head north on Highway 9 toward New Energy. I’m off behind a hill on the side of the road about a mile away from New Energy’s entrance. If there are cars in the area, circle back and wait till it’s clear, and I’ll flag you down.”

  The tires kicked up dirt and gravel, spraying some of it into the side of Kelly’s trailer. “Jesus, Lena, what’d you do?”

  “You’ll see when you get here. But just promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t shoot him when you see him.”

  27

  11 Hours Left

  Mark picked an egg from the carton and cracked the shell on the edge of the frying pan. It sizzled when it hit the surface. He cracked two more then lowered the heat. When he reached for the spatula, he glanced back over his shoulder to the deputies stationed just outside the door. He found himself doing that a lot lately.

  Once the eggs were cooked he scraped them off the pan and onto a plate. He poured a glass of orange juice, buttered two slices of warm toast, then loaded a tray with the plate of food, drink, and silverware. When he turned around the corner of the kitchen and toward the bedroom hallway he stopped.

  The bullet holes from the gunfight were still fresh. He glanced into the living room with its tattered and torn furniture, the walls resembling Swiss cheese. It seemed unreal that the gunfight happened just last night.

  Gwen’s door was closed and Mark knocked twice. “Gwen?” He waited for a response, but heard nothing. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry yet. It was getting late, so I thought I’d check.” He balanced the tray with one hand and reached for the door handle. “Gwen?”

  His stepdaughter had her back facing the door, and she lay on top of her bedsheets, where she curled herself into a tiny ball. Mark set the tray of food down on her desk, doing his best to maneuver around the cosmetics. He took a seat on the bed’s edge and saw Gwen had both eyes wide open, staring at an empty section of the wall.

  “Hey.” Mark placed a hand on the side of her head. “You doing all right?” He stroked her hair, but she neither moved nor spoke. “Do you need anything?”

  “I’m sorry it wasn’t me.” Gwen’s voice was softer than a whisper.

  “What are you talking about?” Mark reached for Gwen’s hand and held it gently. “What do you mean you’re sorry it wasn’t you?”

  Gwen kept her eyes locked on the blank space of the wall, and her voice softened.
“Kaley was here alone. I left her. And now she’s gone.”

  Mark gave Gwen’s hand a squeeze and brushed her hair out of her face. “Sweetheart, that is not your fault. You had nothing—”

  “I know you wish it was me.” It was the first time she’d looked at him since he walked in, and he immediately wished she hadn’t. “I’m not your real daughter. Not like Kaley.”

  Mark’s heart dropped to his stomach. “How could you say something like that?” He slid off the edge of the bed and dropped to his knee so he could get down to her level. “That is not true.”

  “Yes, it is.” Gwen kept her head down, her finger slowly circling a freckle on her left forearm. “It’s always been that way.”

  Mark gripped Gwen by the shoulders and forced his face into her line of sight. “You are my daughter. There is nothing that I would do for Kaley that I wouldn’t do for you.”

  The stoic wall Gwen hid behind finally crumbled. She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Mark’s neck, squeezing tight. In the seven years he’d been married to Lena, Gwen hadn’t hugged him like that since she was nine years old.

  Mark reciprocated the squeeze, glad to have at least one of his girls back, and let her cry into his shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes, and when Gwen was finished she wiped the tears from her eyes, and Mark retrieved the tray of eggs and toast. Several large bites later, all that was left were crumbs. Gwen sighed, her cheeks still stuffed with the remaining eggs. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

  “Yeah, well, self-loathing works up an appetite,” Mark said. “Do you need anything else?”

  Gwen shook her head. “I think I’m just going to go and take a shower.”

  Mark smiled and took her hand. He rubbed it gently, and in the most kindhearted voice he could muster said, “Good. Because you smell like ass.”

  Gwen burst out laughing, and Mark chuckled. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Hey, I told you I loved you as much as Kaley.” Mark stood up, gathering the empty tray, and walked to the door. “And that’s exactly what I would have told her.”

  “Even the ass?”

  “Even the ass. Where do you think she learned all of her bad words?”

  “And I thought you were a good dad.”

  Mark’s heart caught in his throat at the word dad. Gwen hadn’t said that unless it was preceded by “step.” And even though it wasn’t exactly directed toward him, he had to hurry out the door before he lost control of himself. He turned on the kitchen-sink faucet and hunched over, keeping his head low. His shoulders trembled with each silent sob.

  His mind had been crammed with so much shit since Kaley had gone that it finally burst. He glanced at the clock and did the math in his head of how much longer until the time the kidnapper had given them to renounce the bill was up.

  A rush of anger flooded Mark’s veins, and he clenched his fists. What the hell was she waiting for? Jake was arrested on murder charges. The Foreman girl had been returned to her family. The police weren’t any closer to finding the kidnapper than when all of this started. The only thing that had proven consistent was the testament of their family’s pain tolerance. He grazed the bruise on his cheek from the beating he took at the riots after the town hall. They’d been through enough.

  The screen door creaked, and one of the deputies stepped inside. “Mr. Hayes? Got the mail for you.” He held up the stack of envelopes and set them on the kitchen table. “Is everything all right in here?”

  Mark forced a smile. “As good as they can be.”

  “I’ll be outside if you need anything, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Mark took a seat at the table and reached for the mail. He tossed aside the coupons and advertisements along with the credit-card applications. The bulk of the remaining items were bills, but amidst the long bank envelopes was a smaller one stuck in between. It was square and shaded a light green. It had a postage stamp on it and was addressed to both Lena and him. The return address was a Bismarck PO box.

  The envelope was thick and heavy. Mark ran his thumb under the crease and tore the top off. He removed a piece of paper that was folded around a stack of what looked like Polaroids. When he flipped open the top piece of the letter, the first few pictures fell to the table.

  An icy hand gripped Mark’s heart and froze him in place. Slowly, he reached for the photo, tears forming in his eyes. It was Kaley. In the first picture she was crying. In the next there was a gun to her head. In the next her little wrists and ankles were tied, and a gag was stuffed in her mouth. He lost feeling in the tips of his fingers, and the longer he stared at the pictures the further the numbness spread.

  Mark’s chest grew tight, and it wasn’t until he heard Lena’s voice that he realized he wasn’t alone. He looked up and saw her face then shifted to the body standing behind her, which was Jake. But there was someone else there, a target for all of his pain and rage that had been restrained since Kaley was taken. Without a word Mark pushed himself up from the chair and stepped around Lena then past Jake and rammed his fist into Ken Lang’s face.

  “Mark!” Lena rushed to stop him, but Jake beat her to it. All three men grappled with one another. A flurry of fists and arms battled as Jake tried to keep Mark from ripping Ken apart.

  “You son of a bitch!” Mark’s outstretched fingers grazed Ken’s throat as he attempted to escape Jake’s hold. His face was a beet red, and he foamed at the corners of his mouth. “I’m gonna kill him!”

  The deputies from outside quickly stormed in and helped restrain Mark. “Mr. Hayes, I need you to calm down.” The two officers wrestled him to the floor, where they kept him pinned until the anger had run its course. But even after, they both kept their hands on him.

  Ken threw his arms up in the air. “I can’t do this.” He stepped out into the yard and headed toward Jake’s truck.

  With the heat of the moment past and some distance between the two, the officers released Mark, who paced in a tight circle, catching his breath. The collar of his shirt was stretched, and his hair was disheveled. He pointed to the kitchen table. “Those came for us in the mail today.”

  Lena looked over to the table, unable to see the pictures clearly. She slowly stretched her arm and picked up the nearest Polaroid. She shuffled through the pictures quickly, the same horror that had consumed Mark flooding her mind. Her youngest daughter, all of six years old, was tied and bound, screaming her head off, wondering why this was happening to her and why her mother wasn’t there to make it stop. She grabbed a handful of the pictures and stormed outside. She saw Ken in the backseat of the truck and yanked open the door. “Get out. Right now.”

  “Is your husband still going to kill me?”

  Lena flung one of the pictures at Ken, the corner leaving a scratch mark on his forehead. “Ow, what’re you—” And that was when he picked it up. He didn’t share the same flush of anger, but the horror was still there. It was the same look any parent would give at the sight of a child in that situation. “Who sent you these?”

  “Get out of the truck!” Jake slammed his fist on the hood, and the booming order triggered Ken to quickly exit. The two deputies on security duty walked over with Mark, making sure to position themselves in the middle to avoid any further confrontations.

  “I don’t have any more time for games, Ken.” Lena tossed the rest of the pictures to the ground. “You tell me the truth about my daughter now, or I swear to god I will kill you right here in front of these deputies.”

  Ken held up his hands. “Lena, I don’t know who took those, and I don’t know who sent them to you. But I could take a guess.”

  “Scott Ambers.” A grimace accompanied Jake’s words, and he stepped between Lena and Ken. He gripped Ken by the collar and shoved him firmly up against the side of the truck. “Did he take my niece?”

  “If he did, I was never involved. I swear.”

  Lena peeled Jake off of Ken. “Let’s go inside. There’s a lot we need to talk about.” She l
ooked back down the dirt road, where the press was still gathered. “And I don’t want us to draw any more attention to ourselves than we already have.”

  Inside, tempers had cooled somewhat, but Lena couldn’t help but feel the surreal strangeness that was all four of them sitting at the kitchen table. She picked up one of the photos of Kaley and then tossed it to the center of the table. “Any way we’d be able to trace where they came from?”

  “We could give them to Longwood, see what he can pull up, but they’d be hard to track.” Jake lowered his head. “The photos were meant to mess with your mind, get you to hurry up and publicly renounce the bill.”

  “Right.” Lena rubbed her temples. Even though the pictures were sent today, it didn’t mean that they were taken today. “The only piece of leverage I have right now is my public persuasion of the regulation bill. The moment I give it up, there is zero guarantee that Kaley will be released.”

  “We need enough ammunition to go to New Energy with a deal that’s off the table.” Jake turned to Ken. “Which is the only reason I haven’t killed you yet.”

  “I can give you evidence that not only was New Energy dumping waste illegally, but the allegations into their extortion of the farmers up north were true as well.” Ken’s cheeks had grown pallid. Lena imagined it’d been a while since he’d done anything that resembled the right thing, and it scared the shit out of him. “But I want, in writing, witness protection for both me and my family.” He pointed to the front door and the press corps lingering out by the road. “And I will remain anonymous until I know my family is secure.”

  Lena knew they could go round and round and round in their Mexican standoff, but eventually one of them would have to give. “This is what’s going to happen. I’ll call the DA, and he’ll work with you on mounting evidence. Once you have a deal worked out I’ll take it to New Energy’s CEO and use it as leverage. If they don’t give me what I want, I renounce the bill and make the charges public. But until that happens we need a smoke screen, something to keep the kidnapper believing that they’ll get what they want. I’ll have my assistant send out a press release. It won’t say much except that I will be speaking about my daughter’s abduction. We’ll schedule the announcement right before the deadline, which will allow us to maximize our time.”