Taken (10 page)

“It's fine. Thanks.”

Detective Carlysle stood up.

“I have to talk to Sergeant Andruksen for a few minutes, Stephanie,” he said. “I'll be right back.”

As soon as they left, I ripped the plastic wrap off the sandwich and took a huge bite. It was the best tuna sandwich I had ever tasted. I devoured it even faster than I had devoured Mrs. Andruksen's soup, and I washed it down with the bottle of juice.

“Is my mom here yet?” I asked when Detective Carlysle returned fifteen minutes later.

“We're talking to her right now.”

“When can I see her?”

“Soon.” He sat down across the table from me again. “How do you and your mom get along, Stephanie?”

“Okay, I guess.” I wished I could see her right away. I'd never missed her as much as I had when I was out there in those woods. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to apologize to her for every mean thing I had ever said. I wanted to tell her that I loved her.

“I understand it was pretty rough on you when your father died,” Detective Carlysle said.

“It was rough on both of us.”

“I'm sure it was. It's been pretty rough since then too, hasn't it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your mother told us that you and your dad were very close. She said you took it hard when she started seeing someone else. She said you were angry with her because you thought she didn't love your father.”

“Well, yes, sort of, I guess,” I said. What did that have to do with anything? I wasn't angry at her now. “I want to see my mom. I want to go home.”

“I'm sure you do. But I need you to answer a few more questions first, okay?”

I was tired of answering questions, but if that was what it was going to take. “Okay.”

“Have you ever run away from home, Stephanie?”

“What?” Why was he asking me that?

“Your mother told us—she told the police when she reported you missing—that since your father died, you've run away several times. She said it always happens after you and she have an argument. Is that right?”

“Yes,” I said. “But that's not what happened this time. Somebody grabbed me. Somebody drugged me.”

“I understand you had a big argument with your mother a couple of days before you disappeared,” he said.

“Yes, but—”

“It was about your mother's fiancé, wasn't it?”

There was that word again—
fiancé
.

“Yes,” I said. “But—”

“I understand you argued with your mother a lot about her fiancé.”

I just stared at him.

“It must be hard,” he said. “I heard what happened to your father. I bet it's hard to think about anyone else taking his place.”

“No one will ever take his place!” I said. How dare he even suggest such a thing! “My father was really smart and funny and—” I shook my head. “Gregg isn't anything like that. I don't understand what my mom sees in him.”

“Is that why you ran away all those times?”

I didn't want to talk about it, but I knew I had to answer him.

“I guess,” I said.

“Did you run away last Saturday night, Stephanie? Did you want to punish your mother after the fight you had with her? Did you want to teach her a lesson?”

“
What
? No! I told you what happened. Someone grabbed me. You must know about those other two girls who disappeared. They were the same age as me. They had long brown hair, just like me. They were kidnapped when they were on their way home after dark—just like me.”

“Is that what gave you the idea, Stephanie? You wanted your mother to think you'd been kidnapped too?”

“I
was
kidnapped!” Wasn't he listening to me? “I was drugged and I was kidnapped—by the same guy who took those other two girls.” I realized I hadn't heard any news for a week. “Did they ever find that second girl?”

He nodded grimly. I didn't have to ask whether she'd been alive or not.

“You know a lot about those girls, don't you, Stephanie?” he said. “There's a newspaper article on your fridge door. You knew that everyone, including your mother, has been on edge about them. You've run away after arguments with your mother before.”

“Yes. But I didn't run away this time.”

“Are you sure, Stephanie?”

“Of course I'm sure! Do you think I would make this up?” What was the matter with him? Then I got it. I understood. “You don't believe me. You don't believe I was kidnapped.”

“I didn't say that.”

But I knew I was right.

“You would have been happier if you'd found me dead and clutching that chain,” I said. “Then you'd be sure you had some kind of clue to help you catch the guy who killed those other two girls. But I'm not dead. I'm alive. I escaped. And you're so disappointed that you're accusing me of lying.”

“I'm not accusing you of anything, Stephanie. I'm just trying to make sense out of what you said and what we know about the other two girls. That's my job.” He stood up. “Do you want to see your mother?”

I nodded. He walked to the door and opened it. A moment later, my mom rushed into the room and threw her arms around me as I was struggling to my feet. She hugged me so hard that I thought she was going to squeeze all the air out of me. When she finally stepped back to take a good look at me, tears were running down her cheeks. Her face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. I had been scared the whole time I was out in the woods, and I'd known—at least, I'd hoped—that my mom had been worried about me. Now I saw that she had been more worried than I had imagined.

“You look so thin and tired,” she said. “And your ankle…” She hugged me again, even harder this time. “I was so worried. People kept saying that it was probably that serial killer. I…I can't believe I'm saying this, but I was hoping that you'd just run away. I love you, Stephanie. I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you.”

“I love you too, Mom.” I was crying too. “I thought I was never going to get home. I thought I was going to—”

“Shhh!” she said. She hugged me again and held me for a long time. It felt good. For the first time in a week, I felt safe. “Come on,” she said finally. “Let's get you home and cleaned up.” She kept her arm around me while I hobbled out of the room on crutches.

Gregg was outside talking to Sergeant Andruksen. He looked as pale and exhausted as my mom, but his face lit up when he saw me.

“We were so worried,” he said, coming toward me as if he was going to throw his arms around me. Suddenly he stopped, embarrassed. His arms hung awkwardly at his sides. I couldn't blame him. The old me would have screamed if he'd tried to hug me. How was he supposed to know that I had changed? “We were afraid we might never see you again, Steph.”

“I was afraid I'd never see you again either,” I said. “I'm sorry I've been such a pain, Gregg.”

My mom squeezed my shoulder. She was smiling through her tears now.

“You're not a pain,” Gregg said. “You're just a kid who misses her dad, that's all.” He glanced at Sergeant Andruksen. “We're good to go, right? We can take her home?”

Sergeant Andruksen looked at Detective Carlysle, who nodded.

“If you think of anything else you want to tell me, Stephanie,” he said, “anything at all, call me.” He gave me his card.

I looked at Detective Carlysle. I didn't like the things he'd been asking me.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said to Sergeant Andruksen. “In private?”

He looked surprised, but he nodded and walked me down the hall away from Detective Carlysle, my mom and Gregg.

“What's up, Stephanie?”

“He doesn't believe me,” I said, nodding at Detective Carlysle.

“He's a detective, Stephanie. He doesn't make up his mind about anything until he has all the facts, and we're still working on gathering them.”

“What about the chain I gave you? Won't that help?”

“We're going to look into it. I can promise you that. If there's any way that chain can help us find whoever took you, we'll find it. And, Stephanie? Don't mention the chain to anyone, okay? There are always details that we don't make public. It can give us an advantage, you understand?”

I nodded.

I wanted to ask him one last question. I wanted to ask if
he
believed me. But I was afraid what his answer might be.

FOURTEEN

T
he whole way home, my mom kept turning around to look at me in the backseat, as if she were afraid that I would disappear again at any moment. Every so often she said, “I was so worried. I kept thinking, what if I never see my baby again? What if…?”

Gregg squeezed her hand.

“She's right here with us, Trish,” he said. “It's okay now. She's safe.”

My mom turned and looked at me again, her eyes glistening with tears. I knew exactly how she felt. I felt the same way myself, only in reverse. She was glad to have me back; I was glad to be back.

The first thing I did when I got home was take a shower. I couldn't believe how filthy I was. When I looked in the mirror in the bathroom, I saw that the pores on my face were clogged with dirt. I stood under the hot water forever and ever, soaping myself over and over again. Finally I washed my hair, dried myself off and pulled on some clean sweats.

The house was filled with the most incredible aroma. I recognized it instantly. My mom was making lasagna.

“It'll be ready in an hour,” she said. “If you can't wait, I can make you something to tide you over.”

“I can wait.” My mom made the best lasagna I had ever tasted. She had gotten the recipe from her grandmother, whose mother had brought it with her from the old country. My mom's lasagna was always worth waiting for.

Gregg was in the family room when I came downstairs. The family room is next to the kitchen, but two steps down. There's no wall between the two rooms, which Gregg likes. It means he can watch tv from the kitchen table while he eats. He stood up and smiled at me when I went into the kitchen, but he stayed where he was. For once he seemed to understand that I needed to be with my mom.

My mom made me hot chocolate, and I sat at the table and watched her while she made a salad and some homemade salad dressing.

“That police sergeant told us what happened,” she said. “He said you did an amazing job of handling yourself in the woods. He said your grandfather taught you how to do that. You never told me about that.”

“Things were hard when I got back from Grandpa's,” I said.

My mom started to tear up again. “When I think of all the mean things I said about Charlie…” Charlie was my grandpa's name. “I wish I'd known. I wish you'd told me.”

“You had other things on your mind, Mom. And anyway, I don't think Grandpa cared what anyone thought about him. He was happy doing what he was doing.”

The three of us—Mom and Gregg and me—had supper together. I finished one helping of lasagna and held out my plate so that my mom could give me more.

“That cop that called us, he said you weren't able to tell them anything about the guy that grabbed you,” Gregg said. “How come? Was he wearing a mask or something?”

“Gregg,” my mom said softly, shaking her head. She glanced at me as if she was afraid the question had upset me.

“It's okay, Mom. I don't mind.” I looked across the table at Gregg. “I don't know if he was wearing a mask. I never saw him. He grabbed me from behind and drugged me.”

“But when you woke up, you must have seen him—at least how tall he was, whether he was fat or thin, young or old, something like that. You heard what the cops said, Steph. Anything at all you can tell them will help.”

“I don't know anything. I didn't see anything.” I turned to my mom. “There was this detective who asked me a lot of questions. I don't think he believed me. I think he thought I was making it up.”

“Making it up?” My mom was stunned. “That nice police sergeant I spoke to never said anything about making things up.”

“The detective kept asking me if I'd run away before.”

“Surely they don't think—,” my mom began. She looked at Gregg in dismay.

Gregg was silent for a moment. He took a bite of lasagna and seemed to chew it forever. “That's not what happened, right, Steph?” he said finally. “You didn't run away, did you?”

“No!” I tried to stand up, I was so angry. Pain shot up my leg, reminding me of my sprained ankle, and I sank back down onto my chair.

“Stephanie.” My mom's voice was soft. She touched my hand.

“I did not run away! I did not make this up. Someone kidnapped me.”

“Okay,” Gregg said, his voice as soft as my mom's. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I didn't mean to upset you. I know you don't like me all that much, Steph, but I care about you. I care about you and your mom both. I was just asking, that's all.”

My mom's hand was warm and soft on mine.

“Everything's okay, Stephanie. We believe you.

I
believe you.” She glanced at Gregg. “Eat your supper, honey,” she said to me.

I sat down, but only because it was important to my mom.

“I'm sorry,” Gregg said again. “I should learn to keep my big mouth shut. I know it. I'm sorry.”

After we finished eating, Gregg volunteered to clean up. My mom and I sat together on the couch in the family room. Gregg brought Mom a cup of tea. He offered me one too, but I told him no, thanks. By the time Gregg had put everything in the dishwasher and wiped down the counters, my mom was falling asleep beside me. Gregg knelt down in front of her and said, “You should go to bed, Trish.”

My mom said no. “I want to be with my baby.”