Stolen Omnibus – Small Town Abduction (8 page)

But no one ever came. Not even Nick. She didn’t know where he was at that moment, but in a little while she would wake and see Gwen passed out in the corner, sick from a diaper rash because she had gotten too high for too long and neglected her own daughter. She examined her former self, passed out on the couch, and felt hate replace the need to use. She took one last look at her daughter’s red, tear-soaked face then left, leaving the past where it was after taking what she needed.

The vault door to her memories slammed shut, and with it Gwen’s screaming ended. Lena opened her eyes and uncurled the fingers of her fist. Her shirt was nearly soaked in sweat, but her heart had stopped pounding out of her chest. Her knee and hips popped when she pushed herself off the floor, and when she turned the corner to step out of the kitchen she collided into Janine.

“I’m so sorry.” Janine reached for Lena’s shoulder but then pulled it away after feeling how wet it was. “Are you okay?”

Lena looked to the phone in Janine’s hand. “Who is it?”

Janine slowly extended it. “The governor.”

And a call Lena had been looking to avoid, but it was something that had to be handled sooner or later. “Thanks.” She took the phone and walked to the back of the kitchen, Janine leaving so Lena could be alone. “Good afternoon, Governor.”

“Mrs. Hayes, it’s nice to hear from you again.” The veteran politician’s tongue was just as plush as she’d heard it on the campaign trail, though he added a heavy dose of regret after the pleasantries. “I’m not sure what there is for me to say about your daughter. As a parent it’s one of the worst tragedies that could ever befall us. You have my deepest sympathies and support.”

“Thank you, Governor.” Though with the fervor that he’d tried getting in contact with her she knew there was more to come, but the man didn’t become governor of the state without having tact. “I appreciate the call.”

“This is a time where we need to band together as a community and a state. We need each other more than ever right now.” A silence lingered, and Lena felt him struggle to keep up the act. “You know that I’ve publicly supported you on this bill.” His voice dropped an octave, the smooth political tone disappearing with it. “And if you give in to these demands, then you’ll be putting me in quite the predicament. That’s not something either of us want.”

“Governor, I appreciate your concern, but—”

“Oh, we’re far beyond concern, Mrs. Hayes.” He enunciated her name harshly. “You ran an entire campaign against the exploitation of our state by the oil companies tearing it apart, and in that campaign you received very large donations from a variety of parties. Including me.”

If there was one thing that translated into all aspects of her life that stemmed from her recovery in rehab, then it was the fact that every single person, no matter who they were—their race, economic background, religious beliefs—was an addict. Every person had something in their life that they craved above all else. And in politics, power was the drug of choice, and public opinion was the method of injection. “The press conference is happening, Governor. And there isn’t anything you or the rest of the politicians in this state can do to stop me.”

That should have been it. Nothing else. Lena knew there wasn’t anything that they had on her. The public already knew about her addiction after she made the announcement at the town hall, and besides her ex-husband, who wasn’t much of a story to begin with, there wasn’t anything left for them to use as blackmail. But she should have known better than to think that an addict wouldn’t try every last door until they got what they wanted. “And how is your oldest daughter handling all of this? Gwen, isn’t it?”

Heat flushed Lena’s cheeks red, and she tightened her grip on the phone. “This doesn’t have anything to do with my daughters. It never did. Not with Kaley, and not with Gwen. If I hear you even whisper my daughter’s name again public opinion will be the least of your worries.” She slammed the phone on the floor.

The screen shattered, and Lena kicked it away. Gwen’s screaming in the crib returned. She clenched her fists and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memory. But ghosts never really leave you—they wait. And then a moment finally comes where they can hurt you again. Lena just never realized that pain would transfer to her daughters.

***

It took nearly an hour of hiding out in her room before she could take off, but the moment her mom and Mark had left for town, Gwen ducked out of her window and sprinted at least a mile before she felt comfortable walking. The deputies that were stationed in front of her house were too busy on their phones to notice she’d gone, and by the time they did she’d already made it to Lauren’s house.

Thin lines of smoke drifted toward the ceiling of the back porch, where the joint was being passed around. Gwen sat in the corner, a red solo cup of orange juice and vodka in her hand, which she’d barely touched. The six girls that were on the porch all went to the same high school, and Gwen was surprised to have gotten the invitation from Lauren at all, considering how the two had gotten in a fight just a few days ago. But in high school there was one thing that trumped even the most deeply hated circles, and that was celebrity. And with the amount of attention Gwen’s family had received in the media she was the talk of the school.

“Did you see the body?” Lauren asked, her voice a higher pitch from the quick toke, her lips pursed as she held in the smoke and then finally released a cloud that wafted in front of her face and drifted across the porch like a fog.

“No.” Gwen pressed the rim of the cup to her lips and feigned a sip. “They took it away before I got home.” An elbow nudged her arm. The joint had finally made it to her. She pinched her fingers around the end and then took a long inhale. She held it as long as she could, but her chest and throat tickled, and snickering soon replaced the talk of gossip.

“Damn, Gwen, you hit that like you’ve never done it before.” Lauren leaned back in her seat and picked up her own red cup that she’d placed on the floor. “Didn’t your mom make you smoke when you were a kid or something?”

The comment triggered a few more sniggers, which Gwen ignored, and she picked up her cup, shrugging her shoulders. “She got high enough for the both of us when I was a kid.”

Raucous laughter and squeals erupted. Gwen cracked a half smile, but inside she felt a light rumble of her conscience, beckoning her to stop before she started down a path that she’d regret. But the hazy cloud of adolescent prevented her from seeing the destination of her choices, and she plowed forward unabashedly. “I don’t think there’s anything more embarrassing than a six-year-old who has to drive their mom home from the bar.” She placed her hands on an imaginary steering wheel, jerking the fake car left and right as she swung her body from side to side trying to reach the pedals.

Most of the girls were clutching their sides, though from the number of times the joint had been passed around Gwen knew that the laughs were most likely from the weed. Lauren took a few sips of her drink and then set it down. “If I’d known you were this funny I would have invited you over a long time ago.”

The laughter died down, and Gwen stared into the orange liquid in her cup, the weed making her feel more hollow than happy. She brought the rim of the cup to her lips and this time took three long gulps.

“You think Kaley’s still alive?” Rebecca, her eyes bloodshot red, slumped in her chair with her head resting on her shoulder. “Whoever took her was pissed about what your mom was doing, so she’s gotta be in danger, right?” She lifted her head and then poked Gwen’s arm. “So? You think your sister’s dead or alive?”

The porch had grown quiet. Half-baked and glazed eyes examined her, waiting for a response. “She’s not my real sister. The only thing that connects us is my druggie mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s dead.” She quickly took another sip of alcohol and then downed the rest of the liquid. She reached for the vodka in the middle of the chairs and noticed that there was no laughter, and most of the girls looked away, except for Lauren, who locked eyes with her once she wrapped her fingers around the bottle’s neck.

“That’s cold, Gwen.” Lauren leaned forward, keeping her head low between her shoulders. “And I’d be careful what you wish for.”

The silence that lingered in the air was short lived as one of the girls snorted and then burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Sarah said. “I just remembered this video of a squirrel on YouTube.” Her eyes were half-closed, and she barely had control over her motor functions as she slumped lazily in her chair. “It was hilarious.” Laughter quickly replaced the awkward silence, and the joint was passed around for another hit.

The sliding glass door of the porch opened, and a young girl, around Kaley’s age, Gwen noticed, stood on the edge of the tiny step with a bike helmet already strapped to her head. “Lauren, will you come out front with me?”

“Not now, Emily. Go back inside.” Lauren reached for the vodka once Gwen had finished and waved her younger sister off.

“But you promised you would!” Emily stomped her foot in defiance, which tilted the bike helmet on her head forward. She puffed out her lower lip and crossed her arms over her chest.

Lauren sighed. “All right. I’ll be out there in a minute.”

The young girl squealed with delight and bolted toward the front door, which opened and closed in a blur as Emily burst outside.

“You girls mind if we move the party out front?” Lauren asked, grabbing the liquor and rising to her feet. No objections were had, and everyone gathered their chairs and cups, some a little slower than others, but Gwen remained on the porch. “Hey,” Lauren called out. “You coming?”

The booze and weed had started to make Gwen’s head dizzy. She stared at the vodka in her solo cup and nodded. “Yeah. I’m coming.” She joined the girls on their trek through the house, most of the conversation nothing more than how hungry they were, and a detour to the kitchen was immediately recommended and unanimously agreed upon.

Gwen had just opened a bag of chips when a scream echoed from outside, followed by the rev of a car engine. Every girl froze, the paranoia of the drugs taking over.

“What the hell was that?”

“Is it the cops?”

“I thought your parents were in town for that press conference.”

But it was Lauren who stumbled to the front door, screaming her sister’s name. “Emily?”

Gwen followed, the hollow feeling in her stomach intensified. When she stepped outside into the sunlight Lauren hovered over a girl’s bike with training wheels that had been knocked over. The front wheel spun slowly, and down the road she saw taillights, but the vehicle was too far away for her to identify the make and model.

“Lauren, what is it?” Sarah asked as the rest of the girls stepped out of the house.

Gwen watched Lauren reach for something in the dirt that had been stuffed between the bike’s wheel spokes. It could have been shock, or a delayed reaction from the drugs and liquor, but the scream that came out of Lauren’s mouth started slow and then built into a deafening crash of fear and pain. When she turned around the note was crumpled in her fist and her face was beet red.

Chapter 7 – 28 Hours Left

The paper pinched between Lena’s hands trembled. She set it down on the desk and hunched over, letting out a slow breath. It wasn’t the fear of the crowd outside, or the backlash she knew she’d receive from all of the politicians that would clamor for her resignation and advised against her giving in to the demands of the person or persons who took her daughter, but more of the aftermath of the kidnapper’s decision. It was doubt. What if she was wrong? What if the kidnapper didn’t give Kaley back? What if it made things worse? But with word already spread to every town in the state, and even to some of the major news networks around the country, there wasn’t any way for her to call it off. And even if she could, the chances of getting Kaley back increased if she ended her support of the bill.

“Hey.” Mark approached from behind and placed a hand on her arm. “You okay?”

Lena squeezed his hand. “I will be.” She glanced to the front office windows, which had been sealed over with plywood in replacement of the bullet-riddled glass. But even though she couldn’t see them, she heard the crowd outside. Half were clamoring for her to stop, the others screaming their approval. She was amazed at how quickly the people who supported her now wanted to see her hang, and how the group that had the noose ready had suddenly embraced her with open arms. But that was politics.

“Mrs. Hayes?” Janine approached cautiously, clutching a notepad to her chest as she attempted to smile. “We’re still getting calls from the other members of the state assembly. And I received an email from the governor’s secretary telling me that you needed to call him back.” She lifted her hands into the air and then dropped them helplessly at her sides.

Lena grabbed the speech on her desk. “If all those people are watching the news, then they’re about to hear everything they need to know.” Lena marched toward the door, and the deputy standing guard swung it open, flooding the office with sunlight, questions, and the chants of protestors on both sides of the issue.

A small podium had been erected just off the sidewalk in the street outside her office. Microphones sprouted from the top like weeds, and she placed her speech on the small sliver of space the podium provided. Every cameraman and reporter took a step forward, and Lena was flanked on both sides by deputies, with Mark standing directly behind her.

Lena squinted from the sunlight, and when she looked past the cluster of reporters she saw the police line holding back the crowd. She leaned forward to speak, but the protests had grown so loud that she couldn’t even hear her own words. “Thank you.” She raised her voice just an octave below a scream. “Many of you already know what this press conference is about, but I want to make it clear that I come here as both a mother and a representative of the community that elected me.” The chants remained strong, and Lena glanced down at her notes. “Early this morning my daughter was taken from our home. And the individual responsible has demanded that I renounce the oil regulation bill that I, and so many in this community, had fought to bring to life. And that victory came last night in the form of our town hall, where the bill was passed and received permission for a vote in our state legislation. It was a decision that tore this town in half. But from that pain we learned something about ourselves, something about our community.” Lena eyed the camera and clenched her fist. “That we are resilient. That we will be heard!” She pounded her fist, and the noise of the crowd grew even louder. “I started this campaign long before I ran for office. I fought for the families of the victims of New Energy Incorporated for two years. I met with them in their homes, in the hospitals, in the rooms where their sick children fought for their lives. And every parent that I spoke with said the same thing: you never think it can happen to you.” Her voice caught in her throat, but she didn’t think it could be heard over the shouts of the crowd. “And they were right. My daughter Kaley is innocent in all of this. And I beg that whoever took her to please bring her home.” She paused, the grief nearly unbearable at that point. She gripped the sides of the podium. Cameras clicked and snatched photos of the moment, and when she lifted her gaze she felt her eyes grow red and scratchy. “It is with a heavy and conflicted heart that I reach this decision. But I will not let my daughter—”