“They all sound good. I’m starving. I’ll take the pot roast if there’s enough.”
“There’s plenty; all the food’s been going to waste, everyone too worried to eat.” Her eyes softened. “We’re so happy you’re home. I spoke to your parents and friends. I told them you needed rest tonight, but I won’t be able to hold them off for too long. They’ll be by in the morning.” She studied me. “Your parents, I know they’d sleep a lot better if they heard your voice.”
I nodded. “I’ll call them now. Thanks, Martha.”
Brad brought me the house phone, my fingers slowly pushing the digits, trying to figure out how, what to say when they answered. But it turned out nothing was needed. My mother’s sobs, my father’s gruff exclamation of love... we all cried like babies, then they told me they loved me. Told me they’d be by in the morning, if I felt up to it. I told them I would and hung up the phone.
Martha then brought the food on a tray, the smell floating upstairs in a delicious announcement, my stomach audibly moaning at the scent. Brad let me eat in peace, watching me intently, like I was tissue paper and might crumble before him. He spoke the moment my fork hit the plate, when I settled back against the soft pillows with a content sigh.
“Julia, I know you are tired, but we need to punish whoever did this to you. If you could tell me what you know—”
I held up a hand, and he instantly quieted. “Brad, I’ll give you what I know about where I was kept. But I don’t know anything else. I was drugged or passed out for most of the time. I didn’t hear or see anything that clued me in to who they were or what they wanted.” The memory of his hands, pushing apart my thighs, popped into my mind, but I dismissed it, knowing the effect it would have on Brad, wanting to keep his mind clear as I gave him this information.
I spoke, telling about the downstairs room I was kept, the developer showroom, the street it sat on, storefront names I could remember, street names that had stuck in my mind. I spoke, even as the doctor entered and began his examine, my voice cracking when he inspected my head wound, my skin goosebumping when he pulled back the covers and checked every limb. Brad’s eyes flickered, from the doctor to my face, listening intently, his eyes giving away the processing that was occurring behind them. When my words began to slur, my head nodding, he stopped me.
“Sleep. We can talk more in the morning. That helps.” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead and stood, tugging the blankets up around me and removing some extra pillows.
I nodded, closing my eyes as he moved to the side with the doctor, their voices lowered to whispered growls, my mind already falling down through layers of sleep until I hit the bottom and all was dark, deep sleep taking over my body. Downstairs, unbeknownst to me, a small army was assembling.
Chapter 72
As a half moon rose over the city, casting its dusky glow equally over all areas, oblivious to zip code, property values, or social standing, dark activity bred. In the large kitchen of Brad De Luca, police officers converged, pouring over a map of the city, pinpointing possible locations while loading up on armor and ammo. Their numbers doubled a normal response, Brad hiring every moonlighting cop available, wanting every presence possible, every warm body that carried a badge to be concentrated on bringing down Julia’s captors. Two hours after the first officer walked into their house, the FBI arrived, and the house swelled to capacity. Plans were discussed, egos clashed, and Martha’s food disappeared, bit by bit, into the mouths of men. Then they disbursed, headed for three possible targets, a sea of black disappearing into the night.
In another part of the city, the security video was burned to a disk, carried to an upstairs office and played for a larger audience, the men watching in silence as the girl opened that door, ran down that hallway, and disappeared from their building. Options were discussed, risks were weighed, and a call was made. Then, cleanup began, starting with the room where she had been kept. The smell of bleach soon filled the air, urgency in the men’s movements, every moment until she was found a desperate race in cover-up. The three-mile perimeter was widened, and word of her escape spread.
Dom Magiano sat on his back porch, cloaked in darkness, listening to the rustle of palm leaves as a cool breeze swept across his skin. He was tired, flaccid muscles limp around old bones, his chest rasping as he inhaled the thick air. The day weighed on him, nothing going as planned, the look on his son’s face haunting him. It was not the first time he had disappointed his son. Disappointment was good for children; it taught them to value that which was taken or withheld from them. But this fight he had taken on, this lesson he had strived to teach his son ... maybe it was not worth the effort. He certainly hadn’t expected her to escape, to fight a grown man in doing so. It should have been simple. An exercise in intimidation, one that would have sent her on her way, a way in the opposite direction of his son. Instead, it ended in failure. He was getting old, unsure of how many fights he had left. Better to save the energy and expel it against a worthy adversary. She was not worth his energy. And, given the recent news from his youngest son, the report of his daughter-in-law’s cancer ... Julia might be needed for grandchildren. They would need to start immediately; he wanted to see new young heirs before he passed.
♦♦♦
While the city moved, Brad sat in a chair by the bed and watched her sleep. His phone, set to vibrate, lay on the dresser next to him, a ticking time bomb, the police instructed to call the moment they discovered anything. They had wanted to question her, the police and FBI insistent, their faces growing red at his refusal. But she had been through enough. She needed sleep, and he didn’t want her to say anything until he knew the full story, liability constantly lurking, like a dormant plague, waiting to infect if given the slightest opening. In the morning, when she woke, they could talk. Then, with an attorney present, she could give the police her statement.
Hours ago, with his kitchen full of black uniforms, he had second-guessed his actions, the call to involve them in this situation. Every face he saw, every cop he paid, he silently examined with distrust. There was corruption in the police department, his family being one of the major parties responsible. But they had been his best chance, the source he felt most comfortable using. He hadn’t wanted to further involve his family, the nagging possibility of their hand in her kidnapping rendering that a risky move.
She shifted in her sleep, a sigh settling over her body, and he stood, his hand in his pockets, moving closer until he stood over her. There he stayed, his eyes memorizing her features, her breath, the flush of her skin as she slept. His enormous relief at her return was foreshadowed by his panic, his concern that something else could happen. The horrific thing about having everything that he ever wanted was the constant fear that it would all disappear.