Erasing Faith(75)

“I’m sorry,” I said abruptly.

Her head turned toward me. “For what, baby girl?”

“For running away because I couldn’t face my past.” I swallowed hard. “And then for staying away.”

My mom was silent for a long moment.

“I didn’t plan any of this,” I whispered.

“‘Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans,’” she quoted softly.

A smile broke out across my face. “Do you have an appropriate John Lennon quote stashed away for every occasion?”

“Pretty much.” She titled her head to the side in contemplation. “But I’m sure your father has even more of them memorized.”

My smile stretched wider.

“Don’t be sorry for the choices you’ve had to make to survive, baby girl. You are who you are. Embrace it. Live it. Love it. And never, ever apologize for it.” Her arm tightened around mine as she pulled me closer. “No matter how many years go by without seeing you, or how far from us you travel, we will always love you. There are no boundaries or time limits on love — it’s eternal.”

I felt tears gather in my eyes. “Who said that one?” I asked in a choked up voice. “Lennon again?”

“No.” She kissed my temple. “That one is all me.”

***

When you’re away from home for a long stretch of time, you almost forget how good it is.

You convince yourself that the feeling you get when you’re surrounded by family can somehow be satisfied by sniffing a “Home Sweet Home” scented jar candle or by looking through old photographs and conjuring memories of times gone by. But the truth is, there’s no substitute for the real thing — for being embraced by your Dad in a too-tight hug that makes your ribs ache. For having your Mom stroke your hair like you’re still her baby girl. Even for your oppressively overbearing siblings.

By the time I had to leave on Sunday, I was an emotional wreck. I drove away from the ranch house I’d called home for eighteen years, not knowing when I’d be back again. Looking in the rearview mirror at my family as they waved goodbye from the front porch, for the first time in years I felt a few tears slip down my cheeks.

I wasn’t ready to go back to my fake life — not yet.

But staying wasn’t an option. The sad, simple truth was that I didn’t belong here anymore.

I didn’t belong anywhere.

So I drove. Two hours on the highway with the wind in my hair, listening to The Beatles sing about all the lonely people. It felt appropriate.

I shouldn’t have stopped at the rest area. I should’ve driven straight to the airport without looking back.

But I had to pee.

Who would’ve thought a full bladder would be the thing to seal my fate?

***

One moment, I was walking back to my car, brushing still-wet hands against my Donna Karan skirt and lamenting the fact that both the air dryer and paper towel dispenser had been out of service… and the next, a palm clamped over my mouth, the purse was snatched from my grip, and I was deposited neatly into the trunk of my rental car before I could so much as reach for the gun in my thigh holster.

I thrashed and screamed but whoever had grabbed me was far too strong — there was no way to escape his hold. I never even saw his face before the trunk slammed shut and I was enclosed in the cramped, dark space. My cellphone lay uselessly in the bottom of the Prada bag he’d so easily taken from me.

I screamed though I knew there was no one around to hear the muffled sound. The rest area had been practically deserted.

The unmistakable rumble of the engine starting made my heart pound faster. Sweat began to bead across my forehead when I felt the car pull out of the parking space and merge back onto the highway.

I kicked and clawed at the taillights, but they wouldn’t come loose. I bloodied my fists against the metal latch, banging until there was no strength left in my arms. With a scream of frustration, I was finally forced to accept the fact that I wasn’t getting out of this trunk until someone opened it from the outside.

Reaching down, I pulled my Lady Smith from her holster. Five rounds were all that stood between me and… well, whatever unpleasant things my captor had planned for me. They’d have to be enough.

We drove for hours.

That’s what it felt like, anyway. In the dark, I had very little concept of time.

I tried not to cry or panic. It was easier to keep my cool at first, with one hand clenched around my pistol so tightly I thought the metal would leave permanent impressions in my flesh. But as the minutes ticked on, the claustrophobia set in — as did the realization that wherever he was taking me, it was so far from civilization, we’d had to travel several winding roads off the highway to get there.

I was haunted by the fact that no one would know I’d been taken. I’d said goodbye to my family with no promises to call when I got home safely. I hadn’t even told Lux or Conor that I’d be returning to New York.

Essentially, I was an idiot.

But the guy who’d snatched me — he was an even bigger idiot. And, if I had anything to do with it, soon he was going to be a big, dead idiot.

Seriously, who kidnaps a girl without checking to see if she’s armed first?

After an eternity, the car slowed to a stop.

I listened to his door open, to his footsteps approaching.