Andrea trudged up the stairs to her front door. I can’t believe this is happening. She fumbled with her key, inserted it into the lock, her right hand shaking as the emotion of the day surfaced again. “They’ve got to be alright, they’ve just got too.” She spoke out loud to her dogs, dependable doorway companions, as she pushed the door open. She slammed it behind her and then cringed as the solitary pane of glass rattled.
Ignoring their enthusiastic welcome, she walked past Patches and Pokey, down a short hallway to the kitchen, dropping her keys on the hall table as she went. She kicked off her shoes, and entered the sunny yellow room, her favorite. This time, the room did not soothe her tired spirits as it had done every day since she’d painted it. It only reminded her of Diane, the person who’d help her decorate the space.
She sat heavily on a chair in the alcove overlooking the backyard. Tears flowed freely now that she was out of site. Patches laid her head on Andrea’s lap. What can I do to help, her eyes seem to say. Andrea patted her head.
Where are they? What had happened to them? The questions flowed through her mind like an old fashioned ticker tape. She glanced down the hall toward the front door, willing her friends to walk through.
Andrea hiccupped. “I’ll bet you girls want to go outside. You’ve been cooped up all day, haven’t you?” She opened her back door and Patches and Pokey escaped into the early evening air. Diane loved to watch the dogs run around out here. While the dogs were still outside, she filled their water bowls with fresh water and added some more dog food to the stuff left over from that morning. Once they were inside again, she prepared a sparse dinner for herself. She took a bite but realized her appetite was non-existent. It tastes like cardboard. She threw it into the trash.
The police seem to be in no hurry to find Trent and Diane. Where’d that thought come from? Andrea swiped a stray hair from her forehead. She adjusted her living room blinds so no one could see inside her house and then sat on the sofa next to the phone. I wonder if we could…would the police be upset if… She picked up the phone.
Marcia Dixon had gone to college for her undergraduate degree with Andrea and Diane. She had moved to Boston to pursue a degree in law but had then entered a law practice in town about a year ago where she became a well-known criminal attorney. The women had lunch together often. Andrea wanted some advice.
“Hi Marcia. How are the wedding plans coming?” Andrea replied to the friendly greeting on the other end of the line.
She listened as her friend talked about the details of her wedding with Jonathan Fry. A psychiatrist, Jonathan and she became re-acquainted during another case when Marcia had enlisted his help for her client. Now they were getting married in three months. Andrea and Diane had tried to share their faith with the two but so far, neither seemed interested. The women hadn’t given up yet.
“Marcia, I called for a specific reason. Sorry to cut you off but…”
“Andrea, what’s wrong?”
“Diane and Trent, along with their son, are missing…”
“What? Are you sure? Where have you looked?” Andrea moved the phone away from Marcia’s high pitched demand for answers.
“Not a trace so far. We reported it to the police but…they seem to not be in any hurry and I have this feeling…time is important.”
“It usually is to those involved in a missing person case, Andrea. The police will get there but they have a procedure…”
“Yes I know. Procedure. Marcia, what if I tried to find them myself. Could the police stop me?”
“As long as you don’t interfere with an on-going investigation…no. But…”
“I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.”
“Yeah, I guess I’d do the same thing. Call me if you need anything and keep me posted, Ok. I have to go. Jonathan is picking me up so we can meet with the photographer. Andrea, I know you are a praying person. Pray that they’ll turn up soon. The longer they’re missing the less their chances for survival.” Andrea caught the worry in Marcia’s voice.
“I didn’t need to hear that but thanks Marcia. I’ll be in touch.” Andrea hung up. She stood and touched each piece of furniture in the room, remembering the shopping spree. Diane had helped her purchase the furniture when she’d moved to town eighteen months ago. They’d had a blast. Now…
Andrea shook herself. They’re in God’s hands. I need to look upward, not inward. There’s got to be something I can do. I am so afraid for them. Inside a still small voice reminded her that fear was not from God. “Yes Lord, I know.” Andrea sat, folded her hands, and began to pray. The dogs walked quietly to her side, finished eating for the time being, and lay at her feet. “Lord protect them, please.”
•
The motor boat skipped over smooth stones as it slid onto the beach. Three men hauled two people, blindfolded, out of the boat. The woman held a small, sleeping boy. A second boat arrived minutes later with four more men, all rough looking and intent on their destination. The captives were forcefully steered up the shoreline on a path leading to a rough hewn cabin surrounded by several sheds of varying sizes. The woman tripped and almost dropped the boy but one of the thugs steadied her, not very gently.
Once they had arrived at the door to the cabin, the blindfolds were removed. Rough hands pushed the couple inside. Diane Michner peered into the darkened interior. Furnished with a double bed and a cot, two chairs and a table, the cabin looked like anything but a vacation spot. Placing Jeffrey on the cot, she rubbed her tired eyes in an attempt to adjust to the dust laden air. She looked at her husband with questions in her eyes. How had this happened to us?
The men left. She heard the lock click as the door closed. Stealthily, she moved to the portal, grabbed hold of the handle and pressed the latch. Nothing happened. It held. They were locked in.
She walked to her husband’s side. “Let me look at those cuts and bruises.” Feelings of blame and resentment surfaced while she worked. “Nothing looks as if medical attention is needed except for the cut over your eye. Antiseptic and a bandage would help.” She moved her head clockwise around the room. Trent remained silent.
Diane spied some supplies on a shelf near a small counter. Taking a couple of short steps, she found a first aid kit. She plied the lid open and returned to her husband’s side. “We’ve been traveling all night. I don’t know what direction we’ve gone except the weather is considerably warmer here. How could this happen to us?” How could you let this happen. Tears blurred her vision not for the first time since their nightmare began.
Trent folded his arms around his wife’s petite body. Jeffrey, now awake after hearing the men leave, scurried to their side and held his arms up. His face was streaked with dirt and tear tracks. Trent picked him up, looked around and sighed. “I don’t know what’s going on for sure…but…”
“But you knew Max represented a dangerous element. Why didn’t you just tell him to forget it?”
“I did and now look where we are.” Trent’s comforting arms softened his sharp retort. Diane swiped at fresh tears. She looked toward him with fear written all over her face.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think of something. If Brian showed last night…he’ll be looking for us…I hope.”