Stolen (7 page)

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name
is Bruce Stevens. I’m a . . . friend of your mom. Is she available? I need to
talk to her for a minute.” He smiles at me, and while it seems genuine, I’m in
too bad a mood to try to smile back.

“Wait there,” I say as I shut the door in his face and
turn to go get mom. She scares me half to death when I see her storming down
the stairs yelling at me for being so mean.

“Did you just shut the door in his face? Honestly,
Jess, could you have been ruder?” She pushes past me and opens the door. “Bruce,
I’m so sorry about that,” she explains with a smile.

Hold on just one minute here! She won’t talk to me nor
give me the time of day, but she’ll be nice to this stranger? Yelling at
me
for being mean? Has she already forgotten how she and Cass have completely shut
me out the last twenty-four hours?

Decorum goes out the window and any maturity I had
goes out with it. “What the hell, mom!” I shout at her. Sleep deprivation,
anger, and being left in the dark has unfortunately made me sound like a whiney
bitch, but I don’t care anymore. I want answers. Now!

“Jessica! Stop that and go to your room!”

Go to my room? What? I am not a child anymore, even if
I am acting like one right now. I think I deserve some answers, though, if our
house is going to be turning into a loony bin.

“Mother!” I whisper yell. “Why don’t you make me?” I’m
scowling at her now, and she’s scowling right back. I decide to change tactics.
“Look, I’ve been watching you and Cass act like lunatics and like you’re
running away from something or from me, I don’t know, but this is my house,
too, ya know, and I think I deserve some answers, not told to go to my room and
be left in the dark.”

She’s looking directly at me, but she’s seeing right
through me. I’m waiting for an answer, and waiting. Finally, Bruce answers for
her.

“Ms. Foster, Beth, I think this is a good time to
bring her in on this.” He’s gentle with her, and the way he says her name makes
it seem like they know each other pretty well. How do I not know him then?
Maybe they work together at the bank?

Her shoulders sag and I watch her look away, shrug,
and walk toward the kitchen mumbling that she’ll make some coffee. It’s just
Bruce and me again. I don’t know him, and even though mom seems to, and to
trust him, I haven’t come to that same conclusion, and until I do, I have no
intentions of being so friendly with him. I know, very mature of me, but have I
mentioned I’m angry and exhausted? Besides, I’m still just sixteen; some things
you just can’t fight, and acting like a brat when you’re a teenager can be one
of them.

He’s smiling warmly at me, just as he had my mother,
but I don’t like it. It’s as if he thinks he knows me. We’re still standing in
the entryway when mom pops her head out of the kitchen and tells me to take
Bruce into the family room to have a seat. I huff and roll my eyes at him so he
knows I’m doing this reluctantly and lead him into the room.

He sits in the recliner next to the sofa and I sit on
the loveseat, pushing myself into the corner so I can angle myself to face him.
Still glowering, I ask him how he knows my mother. Just as he’s beginning to
answer, mom,
conveniently
, walks in and sits on the sofa opposite me and
closest to him, explaining that the coffee will be done soon. She’s fidgeting
with some imaginary thread or fuzz ball or God knows what on her lap. This
awkward silence is driving me mad.

She finally speaks, but only to tell me to go get
Cassie. I hesitantly walk out of the room, knowing this is a ploy to get me to
leave so they can come up with a cover story or something. I try to eavesdrop
on the stairs, but they’ve started talking in hushed voices, so I relent and
move to Cass’s door and knock, waiting for her to open it.

When she doesn’t, I tell her I know she’s awake, that
she doesn’t have to talk to me, but that a man is here and mom wants her
downstairs. I hear movement, then the door opens and she pushes past me and
walks downstairs.

Okay . . .

Conversation stops when Cass and I enter the room, and
I watch Bruce’s eyes light up when he sees her. He stands and gives her a hug,
and she hugs back! She never hugs anyone if she doesn’t want to; so she knows
him, too, then?

I stare, completely lost, taking in the picture in
front of me. Mom has moved over on the sofa so Cass is closer to Bruce, who’s
still sitting in the recliner; no one seems to notice that I haven’t sat down.
I feel like a third wheel, or fourth wheel, I guess, but no one seems to care
at all about me. This really is starting to hurt, feeling left out of my own
family. It’s Bruce who waves me in and suggests I have a seat. Well, at least
he cares about me.

I walk in front of mom and Cass, who now both have
something pretty impressive on their laps they can’t pull their eyes from.

Really? No one is going to look at me?

“So, Jessica.” Bruce faces me and speaks. “May I call
you Jess?”

I shrug and mumble sure. What’s it matter?

“That’s great. I’m sure you have some questions right
now and probably don’t want the answers to come from me, but we think it would
be a little easier if I was the one to fill you in on what’s been going on. Is
that okay?

“Do I have a choice?”

No one speaks, including Bruce, so I correct myself
and say sure.

“Great. Let me start by introducing myself. My name is
Bruce, obviously you know that now,” he says in a friendly way. “And I work for
the Special Victims Unit of the police force.”

Special Victims Unit? That sounds serious. Isn’t that
the name of that show on TV that has to do with sex crimes? Oh my God, what has
happened?

My eyes go huge, I’m starting to hyperventilate, but
am pulled back just in time when Bruce jumps from his chair to sit next to me.

”Don’t worry, Jess, it’s nothing as bad as you’re
thinking.” He pats my knee and I let him. I need to be comforted, and he’s the
only one offering any. “Are you okay for me to continue? Or do you need a
minute?”

I nod and tell him to go on. I have to know, and I
need him to pull the Band-Aid off quickly.

“By the look on your face I take it that you know some
of what my department specializes in, but what I’m here for isn’t for that. I
just met your mom and sister yesterday when they came in to the station, and
I’m happy to be meeting you right now. I think you need to be brought up to
speed on what’s happening, and your mom agrees but thinks it best if I’m the
one to do it.”

Mom stands, and without saying anything, leaves the
room, Cass follows her. I can’t believe they left me with a perfect stranger.
I’m staring at the now vacant spots on the sofa across from me when Bruce
directs me back to him by continuing where he left off.

“So, like I said, I met your mom and sister yesterday
when they came to file a report.”

A report? What could they possibly have had to file a
report about? My hands are getting clammy, my heart is hurting in my chest, my
blood feels like it’s going to burst from my veins, and any sense of power I
may have had is a pile of ash at my feet.

Whatever he tells me is going to be bad, and a large
part of me doesn’t want to know what it is. Maybe no one has to tell me
anything. I’ll just pretend everything is fine and everyone can continue
ignoring me until this blows over. The minute I take to think this is a minute
too long, I know, but I’m scared; scared of knowing, scared of not knowing, and
scared about the consequences of either.

“Saturday evening an envelope was dropped off by a
young man supposedly working for the post office, though it was after their
normal business hours. Your mother was the one who took the envelope, but after
seeing it was addressed to your sister, she had your sister open it. There was
no return address and they later noticed there wasn’t actually a mailing
address for your house either.

“The envelope did contain a letter and also a picture.
I brought the letter with me, if you’d like to read it yourself.”

I can’t speak. I put my hand out for him to give me
the letter. It’s in an evidence bag, and I’m instructed not to remove it, so I
straighten the Ziploc type bag so I can see the writing more clearly. I take a
breath and begin to read it.

To the lovely Cassie,  

I would love to introduce myself, but this
isn’t the time yet for introductions. I have been trying to bide my time, but
my patience is running out and I am afraid the business I planned to attend to
later rather than sooner has taken precedence.

Your sister has decided it smart to make a
fool out of me and I don’t take lightly to that. I know, especially now that
that joke of a boy is out of your life that you will be a voice of reason to
her stubbornness. I am counting on you.

Your sister has given what should have
been mine to that ridiculous boy she thinks she loves. What can she possibly
know about love? There is no one who will ever love her more than I do, and she
will soon learn that.

This is the part where you come in. I will
give her a choice: She can choose me. Or she can choose him. If she makes the
wrong choice, I am warning now that fatal consequences will be inflicted on
certain third parties. It’s her decision.

Please don’t make me regret confiding in
you. I would hate to be angry with you, too. You have a choice in all this too,
you know. Help me, which helps your sister, or don’t help me and say goodbye to
the life and sister you know.

 I will be in touch soon.

I look up from the letter at a stoic faced Bruce and
back down at the letter in my hand. I slide my hands over the glossy feel of
the baggie it’s enclosed in and imagine the hands that had touched the letter
inside. Who is this person? Why does he want me? Do I know him?

I’m absentmindedly turning the letter over and over again
in my hand, my mind a mess of thoughts and feelings, when Bruce clears his
throat.

“I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m sure you
have plenty of questions. I’ll answer what I can, but, unfortunately, that
isn’t going to be much; we haven’t had a lot of time yet to investigate.”

I stare blank faced at him, then close my eyes and say
a little prayer to the Cosmos. Whatever happens next, please, please, keep
Cass, mom, and Rogan safe. Please!

“Jess. Jess, please.”

I wince as hands rest on top of mine folded on my lap.
I yank them away, open my eyes, and blink rapidly at the nervous but sincere
eyes staring back at me. I want to say something, anything, but my throat feels
like it’s become the size of a straw, just wide enough to inhale small gasps of
air and exhale just as pathetically.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this!

I bolt for the front door and leave with the door
still bouncing off the wall from my force. My feet pick up speed and soon I’m
running. My mind doesn’t know where I’m going, but my feet seem to have a plan.

Soon I’m bent over and panting in front of Rogan’s
door. I bang on it with my fists and, long after an appropriate amount of time,
I keep banging. When the door opens, my fists keep pounding, but now into
flesh. I cry out and collapse into warm arms I know so well, and I cry. I cry
until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. I fall fast asleep in Rogan’s arms, on
the cold entryway tile and in a fetal position, with endless questions rattling
around in my mind.

Will this be the last time I get to be in his arms?
Will I ever get to see him again? Do I tell him or do I break his heart and let
him live with anger instead of fear? Would that guarantee his safety?

Soft fingertips are caressing my bare arm, and for a
moment I forget where I am. I know who I’m with, but it isn’t until I try to
move, my entire body protesting from the pain of the position I’ve kept for I
don’t know how long now, that I remember. I groan, pushing up onto the palms of
my hands, and away from Rogan and the floor I’ve made into a bed.

My eyes are swollen from all the tears I shed, and my
head is throbbing. The pain I felt in my heart when I first arrived is
comparable to the pain I’m in right now.

I place my hand flat on my forehead, trying to
alleviate the pressure pushing on my brain, but to no avail. I give up and opt
to resume my position back on Rogan’s lap. At least there I feel warm and safe.
Right now, I feel cold and hopeless.

“Are you going to tell me what happened? You’re
scaring the shit out of me and I hate that you aren’t telling me. Did your mom
and Cass finally fess up on why they were acting so weird?”

I give a noncommittal shrug, knowing that isn’t going
to keep him from pushing for answers, but I feel too tired and drained to get
into this right now, so I tell him before he continues. “Babe, I’d love to tell
you what’s happening, but right now I feel like I’m dying, my head hurts so
badly. Will you just trust me that I’ll tell you what you need to know soon?
Please?”

I feel an aggravated breath heave from his chest, but
as he begins stroking my head, he agrees to wait until I’m ready. This is the
only thing right now that I can thank the Cosmos for; everything else is total
shit. I hate the universe right now.