Gone (Gone #1) (11 page)

She nodded, not wanting to engage him in conversation. As she walked to the fridge, she could feel his eyes on her. She remembered him shoving her into the side of the truck, threatening her. Chills ran down her back, but she got the pie out, doing her best to act normal—whatever "normal" meant.

Macy opened a couple of cupboards, looking for a plate.

"Don't tell me you forgot where those are too, Heather. Over the microwave." He sighed with heavy dramatic flair. What a tool.

She grabbed a plate and put a piece of pie on it. She found the utensils on her first try. Then she sat down across from him, as far away as she could get. She ate the pie, which was too sweet for breakfast, trying to ignore him.

"You're not talkative, are you?"

Shoving pie into her mouth, she shrugged, not looking up at him.

"Well, I'm sure that will change in time. You have to get used to being here. So how did you sleep?"

She shrugged again.

"That's not an answer. How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Do you want to know what we're doing today?"

"Sure." Macy kept eating, not taking her eyes off the food.

"First, we're going to get your hair done."

She looked up at him in surprise. What did that mean?

"You look too different from how you did before our trip to France. We'll need to lighten your hair. Your mom always insisted on getting your hair colored. Obviously all that's grown out. Then you'll look exactly like your old self. When we're done with that, your grandparents should be back. Won't that be fun? They've really missed you."

Macy's heart raced, and tears sprung to her eyes. She blinked them away.

"Don't look so crestfallen, Heather. Change is good. I think we'll cut your hair as well. We'll say you decided to do that while we were away. It was the style over there."

Her stomach twisted in knots. She didn't want to cut her hair—or color it. She liked it long and dark brown. Was he going to strip away everything about her identity? She remembered the pictures of Heather. She had long hair in every one of them. "But H—my hair was never short. Look at all the pictures over there."

"Like I said, change is good."

"Are you afraid I'm going to look too much like the pictures in the news with my hair long?" Macy hadn't meant to say that. She backed up, afraid of the look on his face.

"What did you say?"

"Um, that I'd like to talk about this?"

He leapt up and came at her, grabbing her arms and squeezing hard before forcing her out of her chair. "Don't ever talk back to me. Do you understand? Ever. Unless you want to find yourself back in the barn. Is that what you want?" He pushed her, shoving her against the fridge.

Macy shook her head.

"Good. Because your grandparents are coming soon, and you need to be on your best behavior. Not acting like this." He pulled her back and threw her against a cabinet, a handle jamming into her side.

Macy let out a cry.

He glared at her, his nostrils flaring. "Don't you forget it." He stormed out of the room.

Desperate

Chad checked his blog for comments, holding on to hope that someone would have seen Macy. Per the norm for the last few days, he hadn't been able to sleep. Even when he did manage to drift off, a nightmare would wake him up.

He always went to where he was loved—his blog. After the candlelight vigil in the park, he had written a heart-wrenching post about Macy's disappearance. He knew the news was national, and he was already getting some comments on his other posts asking about the situation, so a post about her was exactly what was needed.

It had helped him to feel better. Not only was he able to get his feelings, his own story, out there, but it might help to get her back too. His daughter could be anywhere, and his readers were from all over the world. He had hits from nearly every country on the globe.

Chad had uploaded all kinds of pictures of Macy onto the post. First, he had put their latest family photo. That was already on his "About Me" page. It was a perfect picture. Then he grabbed some from his phone and also Macy's social media accounts. Did all teenagers post so many pictures of themselves?

She had pictures of herself doing everything under the sun. He had griped about it before, but now, with her being gone, he couldn't have been more grateful. Not only could he use them on his blog, but they had become special to him in a way they never were before. He couldn't stop looking at them.

His heart broke, wishing he had taken more time for her. He had spent entirely too much time harping on her. He had told her to wear more colors, smile more, study more, eat some meat once in a while, and stop posting silly stuff all the time.

Why hadn't he taken some time to get to know her, instead of always trying to change her? Looking through the pictures now, he noticed how beautiful she was. She also looked a little sad, even through all the goofiness.

Hadn't he learned anything when he lost his parents in that car accident? He knew how suddenly someone he loved could be snatched from him.

Scrolling through the pictures on his post, he sighed. What if she had run away with that dipstick kid she met online? Would she come back, or had he pushed her so far away that she never wanted to return? Or what if the police were right and that kid wasn't a kid at all, but a child abductor?

Chad needed a new post. He needed to keep getting the word out about Macy. He went into his dashboard to schedule a new post for the next day when he noticed his stats. His blog had more than tripled its usual page views. In fact, it was close to quadruple.

People really
were
paying attention to his story about Macy. He needed to post about her often. The more he posted, the more likely it was that someone would recognize his daughter from somewhere. Maybe his blog would be what saved her.

He opened a new tab and went to Macy's profile again. There were hundreds of new messages posted from her friends. Chad saw that some of the kids had even put pictures of Macy along with their posts. He needed to put some of those in his upcoming blog posts.

After uploading about a dozen new pictures to the post, he realized he was out of words. What was there to say? There were no new developments in the case. She was still missing, and he wanted someone to find her. Chad couldn't handle her being gone any longer. Someone somewhere knew something, and his blog was the best way to reach that person.

Sure, the news was reaching a lot of people, but they weren't saying what he wanted them to say. Both times his family had been interviewed, what they said was edited down to practically nothing. At least on his blog, which ten thousand people were looking at every day now, he could say what he wanted.

People were so curious, and he was sure that the names of his entire family were being searched at unprecedented numbers. That was obviously why his blog was getting so many more hits than normal. He had to take advantage of that. He began typing again.

Thank you all for your concern about my daughter, Macy Mercer. This is obviously a sports blog, but you surely understand the posts about the horrors my family is enduring.

Writing about sports with my typical humor isn't in my heart, and I appreciate your understanding. To my fans, I'll get back into it as soon as I can—when Macy is back home, safe and sound. For those of you who are here to learn more about Macy, please see my last post. You'll find pictures not shown on the news sites, and you'll hear about everything from my own perspective, minus the media edits and BS.

Not that I don't appreciate the media getting the word out there, but if you know me, and I know many of you don't, I get tired of the media's crap on a regular basis. They only tell people what they want to hear. It's not real reporting.

My previous post, that's the real story. That's what's going on with my daughter. She snuck out to meet some boy online and now she's gone. All you girls reading this—learn from Macy's mistake. Don't meet a boy you don't know by yourself. If you feel the need to sneak out because you think your parents are too strict, then set up a group date. Please. Just stay safe.

Practically nothing is known about the guy that my daughter met online. His name was supposedly Jared, but all of his social profiles have been removed. The police think he might have actually been a man posing as a boy. It would have been easy for him to snatch a picture of some random kid and pretend to be a friendly teenager.

I hope to God that's not the case. I would much rather Macy be off with some harmless kid, sticking her tongue out at me for being overprotective. But with each passing hour, that scenario becomes less and less believable.

Seeing the worry in Macy's best friend's eyes tells me that my daughter hasn't contacted her either. If this were about Macy sneaking out or even running away to get our attention, she would have contacted her best friend. What fifteen-year-old girl could go that long without instant messaging, or whatever it is kids are up to this month?

Please, please pay attention to the pictures in this post and my last one. There are pictures of her with her hair pulled back, down straight, curled, and wearing hats. Who knows what she could look like when she walks down the street next to you?

Macy didn't take any extra clothes or makeup. She wasn't planning on being gone for more than the evening. Someone has my baby girl, and one of you could be the one to help find her. Thank you again.

Chad pushed the schedule button and then sat back in his chair. So much for not having any words. He took a deep breath, ignoring the lump in his throat. What else could he do? His work had given him the week off with pay, so he had nothing to do except worry about Macy.

He looked at his scheduled post, scanning for errors. He couldn't see any mistakes, but that didn't mean anything. He wasn't thinking straight.

Going back to Macy's Facebook profile, he saw even more comments from friends. Or at least he assumed they were her friends. Maybe she had opened her page up for anyone to see. It had obviously been too long since he had given her a lecture about Internet safety. He was online all the time, he should have been more aware of what his kids were doing.

Reading all the messages, his eyes became heavy. He looked out the window and saw that it was still dark. He knew he wouldn't sleep long anyway, so he turned off his screen and went to the couch at the far end of his office. He pulled an afghan over himself and fell right to sleep.

Changes

Macy stood by the window in Heather's room, looking outside. Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers along the tops of the nails that kept her inside. Leaves lay all over the ground, and the ones in the shade still had frost on them.

She heard a noise behind her and turned around. Chester held a gray plastic bag in one hand. "We have something to take care of."

"What?" Macy eyed the bag, unable to tell what was inside.

"No questions. Follow me."

Her shoulders slumped, and she followed him into the bathroom.

"Ladies first." He moved aside.

Macy's heart pounded as she stepped inside. He grabbed a dark green towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then he pulled a white box from the plastic bag and set it on the counter. It was a box of hair dye.

"What's that?" Macy exclaimed. He was actually going to change her hair color, wasn't he?

"I said no questions." He opened the box, looked at the instructions, poured one bottle of stuff into another, and then shook it. The liquid turned a bright, orange color. He turned to her, and Macy held her breath. He had to be joking.

Chester squeezed the cold liquid onto her hair and rubbed it in. He piled the hair in a messy heap on her head and told her not to move. Then he pulled out his phone and appeared to play a game.

Macy looked into the mirror in horror. What was he doing to her hair? After what felt like an eternity, he forced her head into the sink and rinsed out the dye. She gasped in shock at the sight of her newly colored hair.

"Use the towel to dry it." He shoved another towel at her.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Was I speaking in a foreign language? Dry your hair!"

Macy flipped her head down in front of her stomach and dried it as best she could with only a towel.

Chester pointed to the toilet. "Sit."

Blood drained from Macy's head. "You want me to go to the bathroom?"

His eyebrows came together. "No. I'm cutting your hair. Now sit!"

She sat.

Chester pulled out a large pair of scissors.

"Have you cut hair before?"

"I watched a video online. Now shut up."

Macy's stomach twisted in knots. She closed her eyes, unable to watch. The slicing, snipping sounds of the scissors sounded all around her head.

"Done," Chester said. "Now, we need to get ready for your grandparents' return. They're eager to see you. Do you remember what to say when they ask about your mom?"

Macy clenched her fists. "She's still in Paris."