Forsaken (21 page)

“Kacey, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we’re happy you’re safely back with your father.” Several people clapped and before long all of the press members were standing and applauding.

Kacey blushed. As the applause continued, her eyes filled with tears. She turned to Simon and wrapped her arms around his neck, which led to even louder applause and some whistles. Flashes flickered all over the lawn.

Elise beamed. I knew that she was picturing the next morning’s front page—either that, or some future family photo with herself in the mom’s slot.

I mentally kicked myself for being catty.

When the applause quieted and everyone took their seats, Kacey dabbed at her eyes with my sweater. She looked at Simon and he nodded. She leaned forward to one of the microphones. “Thank you very much. I’ve always heard that the press can be tough, so I wasn’t expecting that.” That drew a laugh. She leaned into the
mike again. “I guess people are too hard on you guys.” They roared.

The red-headed hospital employee stepped over to me and nudged me with his elbow. “You’d think she was a pro.”

His blue-green eyes had some sparkle, and he appeared to be about my age. I nodded. “She’s pretty amazing.”

“By the way, I’m Jason.” He held out his hand. I shook it. His handshake was so limp it was like squeezing a peeled banana. That was that.

“I’m Taylor,” I said as I turned my back on him.

When the laughter quieted, the reporter went on. “Can you tell us what happened the night of the kidnapping, Kacey?”

Kacey folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I was in a car with Cheryl Granger on the way to O’Hare. A few minutes after we left the Mid America Center, our car pulled onto a side street. It was very dark—no street lights at all. Another car swerved in front of us, and we had to stop. Three men in black ski masks jumped out of the car in front of us and pulled open the doors on both sides of our car. Two of them dragged me out. They grabbed me under the arms and carried me to the front car where they pushed me down into the floor of the back seat. Someone put a hood over my head, and I couldn’t see what happened to Cheryl. I was glad to hear that she’s all right.”

A short, stocky man in the second row leaped to his feet. “Did they hit you or abuse you in any way?”

“They were very rough and held me on the floor by putting their feet on my back. Then, of course, there’s this.” She held up her left hand. In a move that was savvy beyond her years, she’d removed the bandage in the hospital room so the stub of her finger was exposed above the second knuckle. The skin flap over the stub was discolored. Several reporters gasped.

Others shouted more questions. Elise pointed to an older woman in a cotton dress in the back row.

“Where did they take you, Kacey?”

“I don’t know. We drove for what seemed like a long time. At first I tried to count the seconds in my head because I thought it might be important to know how far we’d driven. That didn’t work so well. I was still on the floor. It was very dark. I was too scared to keep counting. I prayed a lot, and that calmed me down some.

“Then the car stopped. They dragged me out again, just like the first time. They shoved me onto the floor of another car. Then that happened one more time after we had driven a while longer. At one point the hood was pushed so tightly against my face that I couldn’t breathe. When I tried to move, the one with his foot on my head pushed me down even harder. That was the scariest time of all. I thought I was going to suffocate.” She took a drink from one of the bottles of water the hospital had lined up on the table.

I watched her closely, amazed at her poise. The reporters were captivated. Though we were outside, there was complete silence except for the occasional chirping
of a single bird in a tree near the building. Every eye was on Kacey as she set the bottle back on the table—every eye, that is, except Simon’s. He stared down at his hands. A vein in the side of his neck had grown larger and larger as she described the way the kidnappers manhandled her. I wasn’t sure how long he could take this.

“I was able to move my head enough to find a space where I could get air,” she continued. “Finally the car stopped. They pulled me out again. They squeezed my arms so hard that I have bruises right here.” She pointed to her upper arm, just beneath her shoulder. “They carried me down some stairs into the basement of a house or a duplex or something. They took the hood off my head, and there was a man waiting there. He was tall and thin and wearing a mask just like the rest of them. They pushed me down on a couch. The tall one stuck a needle in my arm. Then everything went dark.”

“How did they do that to your finger?” This from a man in the back.

“When I woke up, I was lying in a small bed, with just a sheet and a thin yellow blanket. Two masked men stood over me, looking down at me like I was some sort of insect in a jar. That was another really scary moment. I wasn’t in any pain yet, though. I guess because the anesthetic hadn’t worn off. They didn’t say anything about my finger. They just stared at me. That was when I cried. I thought for sure they were going to kill me. The first time I saw what they had done to my finger was when I lifted my hand to brush the hair from my eyes. I think I passed out then.”

“So they cut your finger off while you were knocked out?”

“Yes. I didn’t know what had happened until I actually saw it.”

A young reporter in the third row with a notepad in his hand jumped up. “After that, did they treat you well?” Several in the crowd groaned.

Kacey paused for a few seconds until everything was quiet again. Then she leaned to the microphone. “We got off to such a bad start that it’s tough for me to be objective about that one.”

The lawn exploded with laughter. The reporter turned bright red and sat down. I looked up at the highest floors of the hospital. Patients stood at a number of the windows. In one window a woman held a hand-scrawled sign that read:
We love you Kacey.

Jason nudged me again. “What timing! Is she too young to run for office?”

I didn’t respond.

A trim, pretty woman with auburn hair stood up in the back row. I turned to Jason. “She looks familiar. Do you know who that reporter is?”

“Katie Parst,
Dallas Morning News.
She’s the one who’s been doing the series about organized-crime extortion rings in Dallas. She’s a gutsy one.”

“Kacey, what did they tell you about why they took you?” Parst said.

Kacey sat up straight. “That’s the thing I most wanted to tell everyone. These men who took me, they didn’t talk to me at all. They just motioned with their
hands. Any time they were in the room, they wore masks. I never saw their faces. I saw their eyes, though. Their eyes were cold. Every one of them had cold eyes. Not one showed even an ounce of sympathy for me. I was nothing to them. Not a person, not even an animal. I was just something they needed to use to get what they wanted, whatever that was.” She shivered and pulled my sweater over her shoulders. She glanced at me and I gave her a thumbs-up. My sweater had managed to ruin her outfit after all. She started to laugh, then quickly covered it by coughing into her hand.

No one spoke for a few seconds. A man cleared his throat. An older gentleman in a cardigan sweater, standing off to the side, raised a finger in the air. “Kacey, what are your feelings about what your father had to do to win your freedom?”

Simon’s back stiffened. He placed his palms flat on the table.

Kacey brushed a hair from her face and spoke deliberately. “My dad is a great man, and I don’t mean just because he’s kind of famous.” A few of the reporters chuckled. “He loves me and would do anything for me. I feel awful that he had to do that, because I know he would never have done it to save his own life. But he did it for me. He made an incredible sacrifice to save my life.” She turned toward Simon. “I love you, Dad.” Tears edged down her cheeks.

Simon put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her. Flashes fired.

Elise stood. “Kacey’s been through a lot. That will have to do it for today. Thank you everyone.” She walked over to Kacey and helped her with her chair. Kacey stood, then leaned over and hugged Simon again. The flashes flickered again. A nurse moved toward Simon, but Kacey grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and pushed him back across the lawn toward the hospital door. The entire press corps stood and applauded. I applauded too.

“They love her,” Jason said, as I turned to follow them.

“We
all
love her,” I said over my shoulder.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE PRESS conference, Simon checked out of the hospital. Since my car was already there, I volunteered to drive Kacey and him home while Elise finalized the preparations for Simon’s press conference the next morning.

“I’ll bet you’re glad that’s finally over,” I said as I pulled away from the curb.

Simon leaned forward and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “It’s not over. It will never be over.”

I eased the car to the stop sign at the hospital exit and looked at him. His face was pale and his forehead was damp with sweat. For a second I wondered if he was having a heart attack. I glanced in the rearview mirror.
Kacey already had her ear buds in and was scrolling through songs on my phone.

“Are you all right?” I said to Simon in a low voice.

He didn’t answer.

“Simon, are you okay?” I checked the mirror again. Kacey was still focused on the phone.

“I’m all right. Please just get me home.”

We drove in silence. Each time traffic would allow, I checked on him from the corner of my eye. His color returned to normal, and he didn’t seem ill. Nevertheless, I was relieved when we pulled into his driveway.

Simon and Kacey lived in a modest ranch-style house in North Dallas, largely hidden from the road behind a thicket of live oaks. If not for the unusually large lot, the house could have been picked up and dropped into any number of neighborhoods in the area without attracting attention. Simon’s sister, Meg, met us at the door in blue jeans and a cotton sweater. More thickly built than Simon, she had the same engaging smile and an air of matronly authority that was reinforced by slightly graying hair.

Meg had prepared a brunch of scrambled eggs and bacon and had a bowl of batter for French toast waiting by the stove. After kissing Simon and Kacey, introducing herself to me, and then kissing them again, she helped Simon to a chair. She leaned his crutches against the wall behind him. The rest of us sat at the table.

“Sadie will go crazy when she sees you two,” Meg said. “Are you ready?”

Simon smiled. “I’ll brace myself.”

Meg left the room and a few moments later we heard paws scrambling on the tile. Simon’s golden retriever, Sadie, burst through the doorway and practically leaped into Simon’s lap, her tail wagging frantically. Simon winced when she bounced off his chest. She darted over to Kacey, licked her on the face a few times, then flew back around the table to Simon.

“Wow, she
is
excited to see you.” I lifted a wedge of buttered toast to my lips, but before I got it into my mouth, Meg said, “Simon, would you say grace? Then I’ll put Sadie in the laundry room so we can eat in peace.”

I cleared my throat and lowered the toast back to my plate. “Sorry.”

Meg waved her hand. “No need. Every family’s different. We pray before we eat. Simon?”

He sat with his head bowed over his plate. “Will you do it, Meg?”

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. He still didn’t raise his eyes from his plate. “Of course.” She bowed her head. “Lord, we thank you for bringing us all back together safe and sound. And thank you for this food. Amen.”

Kacey grabbed a grape and popped it in her mouth. “Aunt Meg’s the best at table prayers. Gets right to the point and then shuts it down. Some people would have dragged that one out forever with everything that’s happened to this family in the past few days.”

Meg wagged a finger at her. “You think you can say anything now, just because you’ve been kidnapped?”

Kacey laughed. “You got that right. I figure I’ve got a get-out-of-jail-free card for at least a month for this one.”

I had to appreciate a family resilient enough to joke about a kidnapping. I glanced at Simon. He was still leaning over his plate, swirling his fork in his eggs. Meg watched him, too, although she kept up a lively conversation with Kacey.

I needed to talk with Meg, and I had to do so before the day was finished. Because I needed some insights, and very clearly, Simon wasn’t talking. Not to me. Not to anyone.

I SPENT THE AFTERNOON inspecting the house and neighborhood to develop a security plan. For the next few nights I intended to cover the front of the house from my car, parked just down the street. One of my security specialists would cover the back of the house. I’d checked with Michael Harrison, and the FBI believed that the security risk from terrorists had dropped dramatically since Kacey’s return. As Michael put it, the terrorists already got what they wanted from Simon. They had moved on.

According to the FBI, Simon’s biggest risk was that some deranged Christian would take a shot at him—similar to what happened at the Challenger Airlines Center. Fortunately, that was a much easier risk to prepare for, since it would come from an amateur.