Wanted (5 page)

He approached me cautiously, like I was a wounded animal. I flinched when he reached out to remove the tape from my mouth. For a second, I could feel the calluses from his fingertips against the sides of my cheek. I thought maybe his thumb lingered there a moment longer than necessary—I shuddered.

He ripped the tape away quickly enough so the skin didn’t tear from my already chapped lips. Still, I harbored an instant wish for the lip balm in my bag.

There was humor in his voice, but he lacked a smile. “Just like a Band-Aid.”

“Thanks.” My voice surprised me; I sounded just as cracked and dried as my lips felt. I coughed several times in an attempt to regain my voice. As I did so, he backed away abruptly, narrowing his eyes at me dangerously. I actually wondered if I had done something to offend him. But this bothered me too, and I was annoyed with myself that even in a situation like this I would retain so much awkwardness and still worry about what was expected of me.

“Thank you?” Charlie mumbled. His expression had gone back to indifference, and he looked out the window from his seat on the countertop. “That s’posed to be funny?”

I shrugged. The muscles in my shoulders and back were beginning to tense and stiffen up from the lack of movement. I found it incredibly uncomfortable. “There’s no excuse for poor manners.” Hopefully he would realize I wasn’t being sarcastic, just trying to be civilized. I once saw on a talk show that the more likely an abductor is to see you as a human being, the more likely they are to treat you as one—not to mention the fact that you could live through the experience. If all I had to do was show a little decency, then I would be Miss Manners.

We remained in the quiet for quite awhile, which bothered me much more than I expected. Normally, I thrived in the stillness of things, getting some of my best work done in silent afternoons at the library. But the lack of knowing what awaited me next and what was currently happening was making the gears in my brain go haywire. All the potential scenarios of what could happen to me were colliding with my worries and fears for the future. More importantly, however, what about Dad and Robbie? Would Dad remember to take his blood pressure medication? Was he eating? This wouldn’t distract Robbie during his retraining, right?

“What are you going to do with me?” I regretted the words the instant they came out. He had warned me to be quiet. Nevertheless, the buildup was unbearable, and the words just slurred out of me like dirty slush on a sidewalk, unwanted and unavoidable.

My gaze found the floor and stayed there. I tried to mentally prepare myself for the tape again, but it didn’t come. Instead, his voice was calm and steady. “I don’t know.” He threw the filter of his cigarette against the wall. I shivered even though the afternoon heat was already setting in.

Luckily, my imagination didn’t have any wind-up time before someone else walked into the house and interrupted my thoughts. He was someone new, and he carried himself with the attitude of an admiral, extremely stiff and stoic with an obvious air of authority. It seemed almost ironic that he was rather small—classic Napoleon complex. He was also extremely well dressed in what looked like a tailor-made suit. When he walked through the doorway, he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled widely. Then he took a moment to look at Charlie and then me before taking out a large pair of bifocals. If I was making a blind guess, I would have said this guy was one of my professors.

“Well,” he said to Charlie. “At least when you find a mess, you find a lovely one, don’t you, Charlie Boy?”

He walked towards me, and although he wasn’t as flamboyant as Polo, the same curiosity was there. “Hello there, my name is Ben Walden. What’s yours?”

I felt very much like a child and hated it in the extreme. My teeth clenched as I repeated his name over in my head. It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it anywhere. When I looked back up I realized Charlie was also looking at me, and it made my stomach churn. But still, I kept my eyes on this new stranger when I answered.

“Addie Battes.”

Ben’s smile grew a little wider as he looked back at Charlie. “Of course you are.”

“My family isn’t wealthy,” I blurted out.

“Excuse me?” He stood up and leaned against the door frame. He looked more amused than ever.

“I don’t know anyone or anything, and I don’t even know where I am. You could just blindfold me and drop me off somewhere so neither of us is inconvenienced. There are many options here, gentlemen. I could tell my family I spontaneously went hitchhiking, so there was no crime even committed, no laws broken whatsoever.” I was babbling and I knew it. Even I could hear how pathetic it sounded, how desperate and menial. But at this point, I figured my chances were about fifty-fifty of getting killed, and frankly, I no longer knew if presenting a logical argument would increase or decrease the risk for survival.

Ben looked up at Charlie with some sort of musing on his face. They seemed to be communicating without saying anything. If it wasn’t for their severe differences in appearance, I would have thought they were brothers.

Then without warning, Ben started laughing. It was strange to hear such a high-pitched sound coming from such a serious-looking man. While I waited for the sound to stop, I noticed Charlie was smiling a little bit, too. Seeing him smile did something to my insides again and I had to look away.

Ben sighed and smacked his hands together. “Okay, kids, here is what we’ll do: we’ll attempt to remain with our plan. Then, in a few hours after we’ve gone, we’ll have some friends call the authorities about this lovely little thing.” He pointed in my direction with his thumb and then smacked his hands back and forth together. Again, I was reminded of an instructor wiping the chalk dust from his palms.

Charlie said nothing. He nodded and pulled another cigarette from his pocket and put it to his lips. I noticed his distinct hesitation to light it.

“Okay by you?” his words were oddly stifled by the cigarette.

I looked around me to make sure he was talking to me. I think the expression on my face is what made Ben Walden laugh. Was Charlie actually asking my opinion or was he merely being sarcastic?

“I’d prefer to go home right now.”

Both men laughed.

In all honesty, however, relief flooded through me. These people were talking about letting me go home, about allowing me to leave free and unharmed. I was overwhelmed with excitement at the prospect of being back in New Jersey (and how often does one say that?), in my room, in my bed, and above all else, safe. Just as some of these thoughts began to seep into me, another question entered my mind.

“Um, excuse me? Just how long am I going to be here?”

Smoke and murky sunlight filled the tiny once-upon-a-time kitchen. “’Till tomorrow,” Charlie answered.

My sigh was audible. “Okay.”

Ben removed his bifocals and formally placed them in the front pocket of his shirt. “I’ll have a talk with Wallace.”

Charlie scoffed and I saw the glimmer of something dark I had seen earlier. “If you don’t, then I’m gonna.” Although he smiled and saluted Ben jokingly as he walked away, there was nothing playful about his expression. I thought that maybe there was a threat implied somewhere, but knew better than to ask.

He left then, returning only a moment later with several bottles of water and a bag of chips. He sat next to me and crossed his legs, and although I still should have been terrified, I confess that the sight of the water alone reminded me of some of my most basic needs, eradicating the fear from me. When he went to touch the bungees that held my wrists, I didn’t even shy away.

“If you try somethin’, I’ll lock you in a closet.”

It barely took a second for him to untie my hands. I rubbed my sore wrists eagerly. I doubted he had been a Boy Scout, but maybe his knot tying skills were a part of
Thieving and Kidnapping 101
.

I still smiled at the threat. “Taking a page out of the SLA Handbook?”

“Huh?” The chips popped open and he slid a water bottle towards me.

“Um, the Symbionese Liberation Army?” When he didn’t respond, I continued.

“They kidnapped a girl named Patty Hearst in the seventies. Kept her locked in a closet.” I closed my mouth and kept it that way, remembering how most people didn’t like a know-it-all. I tried to be discreet about checking the water for a torn bottle cap before taking a sip from it. He saw me, though, and scoffed.

“If I wanted to drug you, I woulda done it by now.”

I shrugged and gulped. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled and sipped his own water. “Yeah.”

I reached my hand into the chip bag and helped myself to a handful of the crunchy BBQ. The simple joy of it delighted my senses and made me so happy I almost wanted to cry. I closed my eyes and slowly munched on every chip. I savored each bite like a precious morsel. I should have been dead, but I wasn’t. I had somehow been spared and was also eating these wonderfully mundane chips. I laughed to myself and realized I was experiencing some classic signs of Stockholm Syndrome.

“What’s so funny?”

I opened my eyes and took another sip of water. It was warm, but still incredibly refreshing. “Normally I don’t enjoy Ruffles this much.”

His head tilted to the side. “You’re a strange one, ain’t you?”

I nodded, put another chip in my mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. An idea started nagging at the back of my head and throbbed there at the edge of my reasoning. Although I didn’t want to acknowledge it, it still nudged at me to ask, taunting me with its incessant chanting until I would satisfy it.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

He frowned, wiping the residue from his hands on his jeans. “I ain’t.”

“Yes, you are.” Really? Was I really arguing right now with an armed man who stole for a living?

But instead of getting angry like I thought he might, he only pulled another cigarette from a pack and lifted it to his mouth. Briefly, I wondered about that mouth, and if smoking cigarettes so frequently would alter the taste of those lips. I put my hand to my own torn lips but immediately pulled away, feeling the blush spread.

Yikes, Addie, get a grip.
I was abominably grateful then that I had been allowed my bag, and again remembered my desire for my lip balm. Unfortunately, however, my abductor didn’t feel the same way, as my sudden movements seem to startle him into grabbing my wrist with one hand while pinning his leg against my torso to effectively prevent me from going anywhere. Although the action wasn’t violent and his grip by no means hurtful, the closeness and the aggression of his act made me catch my breath. Beyond the smell of the clove cigarettes, I could smell aftershave and dull soap. More faded than others, I could see a few scars behind the stubble of his jaw, and one particularly deep mark along his left eyebrow.

It was strange that his chest was moving so rapidly because such a small effort couldn’t have been much for him. But sure enough, he was breathing as though he had been performing some intense exercise. Now I could clearly see what the collar of his jacket had been hiding. It was a rather large tattoo of a serpent, which seemed to dance under the bulge of his pulsing jugular vein.

He pulled away instantly when he realized his mistake, slowly moving to pick up the cigarette that had fallen to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

My hands were practically shaking when I put the lip balm on, but I was well aware it wasn’t from fear. “That’s okay.”

He laughed and lit the cigarette; the sound filled the kitchenette and made my head spin like a poorly constructed roller coaster. I picked up my water bottle and looked at it, then the bag of chips. No, no. Besides, if I had been drugged, the side effects would probably have been far more different.

I shrugged and tried to get the kinks out. Somehow I picked up our previous conversation against my better judgment. “That’s what I mean, though. A real villain never apologizes.” Insanity, that’s all it was. I was clearly just a crazy person who needed to be locked away in a tiny room somewhere so I could receive professional medical help. “So you can’t be entirely bad.”

His eyebrow went up. “What do you know ‘bout it?”

“Nothing. I just—”

“That’s right.” His finger came out at me, pointing in accusation. “So just keep your damn mouth shut.”

Although he put his hand down, he glared at me for some time. His eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors as the clouds outside passed over the sun and tinted the indoor light. While his expression was dark, there wasn’t anything angry about it, nothing even within the realm of what I had seen earlier. But I wanted to test the waters, explore this unknown territory. My curiosity gushed from the inside out and gave me a rush.

Yes, I decided. I was definitely crazy.

“Maybe you’re right.” I played with the bottle cap in my hands. “If you were decent, you would let me call my Dad—just to tell him I’m all right.”

“Forget it,” he snapped and put out the cigarette on the edge of his boot.

“It was worth a try,” I mumbled.

“You’re lucky you’re even getting outta here.” He scooted across the floor and rested his back against one of the few cupboards still intact. From below us, I thought I heard the roar of power tools coming to life. Unfortunately, the noise did nothing to distract me and those pesky logical thoughts started creeping up again. I was beginning to hope that Robbie hadn’t heard about my abduction at all. I quickly reasoned there was no way it couldn’t sidetrack him. Even if I was home by this time tomorrow, I didn’t want him to worry unnecessarily. With Dad, however, that was going to be unavoidable.

“What kinda girl goes running ‘round a filling station after she hears gunshots?” He shook his head as though he was exasperated, but he wasn’t even close to being done.

“Is that what those noises were?” I mumbled to myself. Even if I had been asking, it was clear he was too consumed with his ranting to bother with me.

“Nobody minds their own business no more! That’s how folk end up in trouble half the time!” Despite the yelling, I was less afraid and more enthralled by his behavior.

“People can’t just do what their s’posed to do. Just follow directions and listen! Then everybody wonders why everything gets messed up.” He was rambling now, ranting as though he were a lunatic. I frowned—mostly because I only understood about half of what he was talking about, but also because I didn’t understand the source of his anger. He sounded completely bent, his words streaming out of his mouth with only the slightest fragment of sense.

“We shoulda just skipped it and stuck to the schedule. Followed through as usual.” I listened with a keen interest as he talked more to himself than anything. I realized that, just as before when he became enraged with Wallace, his accent became more pronounced. He was even misusing auxiliary verbs.