Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
They just won’t stop.
Betrayal.
That’s what I feel. Complete and utter betrayal.
Through my tears, I ask, “Is there any chance you got it wrong?”
Nox shakes his head, wiping away my tears. “I’m sorry, baby. No. His apartment had everything we needed to rule out anyone else. We found the laptop the emails were sent from. In the search history, we found internet searches for websites linked to kidnapping and extortion.” His jaw steels. “There was a wall in his bedroom that was filled with pictures of you, Lily. Hundreds of pictures. And what’s worse is that one of those pictures was taken the day I came to get you.”
My stomach lurches. I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.
It has to be a mistake. Jamie wouldn’t do this to me. He and Jett are my friends! We lived in the same house for almost a year, for Christ’s sake. He taught me how to swear in Gaeilge (Irish Gaelic) and even went as far as to take me places that my dad wouldn’t let me by playing the ‘she’ll be fine with me’ card.
My tears come harder knowing his friendship was all an act.
Betrayed and deceived, I don’t know how I’ll ever get past this.
Knowing I shouldn’t ask, but having to, I beg, “Tell me what happened the first time I was taken.”
Nox shakes his head. “Lily-”
I cut him off with, “Please. I need to know. Maybe then I’ll understand all this. Please help me understand.”
Nox rubs a hand over his face and sighs, “Okay, baby. I don’t know all the details, but I’ll tell you what I know.” Clearing his throat, he starts, “Your dad mentioned it when we first spoke over the phone, and when I couldn’t find a link with the information he’d given me, I thought he was just being paranoid.”
Sounds like my dad.
“He said that you were thirteen and you were at the warehouse on a Saturday. You climbed a tree because, apparently, that was your thing back then.” Smiling at me, he pushed my now-damp hair away from my face. “And you fell. Only you didn’t.”
I remember that! I broke my arm and passed out.
I’m confused.
Nox explained, “You were pushed, Lily. When you fell, you fell hard, and passed out. Your dad said he never let you go far and always said for you to-”
We both said, “Stay close.”
My dad said that to me daily.
He nods. “He saw the whole thing, baby. And I heard it in his voice. The fear. It’s likely something he’ll never get over. Watching your kid be drugged and stuffed into the back of a van; I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”
My voice shudders, “No. No, that’s not what happened. I fell. I broke my arm and passed out. I woke up in the hospital.”
Nox takes my hand as he gently utters, “Baby. Yeah, you woke up in hospital. A week later.”
My stomach dips and my mouth parts, expelling a quick breath with a whoosh.
Feeling the color drain out of me, I ask, “Who was it?”
Nox shrugs. “Not anyone known to your father. An employee and his wife. Your dad got a lead early on from another employee who’d overheard something shady, and you were found the next morning in a cabin not far out. The wife was hysterical because you wouldn’t wake. She all but threw you to the medics that arrived, begging for them to help. A bit ironic that the person putting you in harm’s way didn’t want you harmed at all.”
He continues, “But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. See, they had a son who was ill and needed money for an organ donation. They tried to get the money from other sources, but they just couldn’t get enough. They ran church fundraisers, appealed for help on television, even asked your father for money, which I’ll add, that he gave twenty-thousand dollars to. It just wasn’t enough. So, they tried for a ransom.”
Not caring about my story any longer, I ask softly, “What happened to him? The son.”
Nox shakes his head slowly and I’m suddenly overcome with emotion for this family I don’t know. Lowering my face into my hands, my body shakes with silent sobs.
He adds, “The husband and wife got jail time, but the husband took most of the wrap, so the wife got a suspended sentence with the help of your father. Not long after the husband was jailed, the son took a turn for the worst and didn’t make it in time for surgery. The wife killed herself a week later, and a week after that, the husband was also found dead in his cell.”
I can’t listen anymore. I choke out through shuddering breaths, “Stop. No more. I can’t. No more, please.”
That is a tragedy. A goddamn tragedy.