Page 38 of Booked for Kidnapping

I questioned that.

Then again, I questioned everything about my situation.

Then, because my sense of humor had survived, I informed Bradley I was a self-rescuing princess who needed a lot of love from her fluffy goddess, and if something had happened to my precious Ajani since I’d had a bad run in with some goats, I would be inconsolable. I left the address of the library, and that I’d be somewhere around, probably at the beach, attempting to roast myself because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the beach.

I hit send, closed my email tab so I wouldn’t have to witness any chaos if Bradley was actively checking his email, and resumed researching the lost months of my life.

I left the library half an hour before closing. If Bradley saw my email immediately, if he took a commercial flight, and if he hit no delays or snags, he could arrive in California at a painful three in the morning. Considering the library wouldn’t be open, I would need to find some way to amuse myself until it reopened if he didn’t show and locate me in the small area.

Hiding out would challenge me, as would making certain I didn’t kick the bucket until he arrived. The lack of a wallet or anything of use would make the next day or two of my life a miserable prospect at best. The state beach had water fountains, however, and I’d take advantage of them to make sure I stayed hydrated.

Assuming he showed up, Bradley could solve my hunger problem, although I wouldn’t be getting Chinese food at some obscenely early hour of the morning. I’d take whatever he’d give me, though. By the time he arrived, I would be hungry enough to try to catch a shark and eat it raw.

I refused to consider he might not show up. I could only hope he believed I’d accessed my email, asking him to return me to civilization. If he didn’t show, I would find somewhere private to cry before accepting defeat and coming up with a second plan. My second plan might involve hitchhiking across the entirety of the United States without a single penny to my name, showing up at my parents’ place, and indulging in hiding in my old room for the rest of my life. My third plan involved breaking into the Hampton’s residence and taking out my frustrations within their bunker and gun range before somebody stopped me. If neither of those plans worked, I would do the equivalent of sticking my head in the sand and becoming a hermit, living out the rest of my life hiding in some mountain cave somewhere until I starved or froze to death.

My plans needed work, although I tried to convince myself I’d done well emailing for rescue rather than showing up at some police station after having gone missing for almost nine months. Once I added in how Senator Westonhaus used me for his presidential bid, I wanted to dodge the media for as long as possible.

I would spend the time waiting to see if somebody showed up grieving for my lost job. I wouldn’t worry much for my cat.

Bradley would have taken care of my fluffy goddess. Given an opportunity, he’d enjoy taking care of me, too. After having no company for months upon months, I would concoct reasons I needed him to take care of me in some fashion or another.

I would begin with a hug, and I’d do my best not to cry at having contact with someone else. I would brace for the worst, too. I’d disappeared once, and with how upset most had been with me for insisting on attending Senator Maybelle’s memorial, I expected to emerge with fewer friends. I wouldn’t even blame my parents if they distanced themselves from me.

Losing me once had been hard enough on them—and on me. Losing me twice might be the straw that broke their backs. If I went in with the understanding I had lost more than I gained, I would be able to emerge on the other side hurt but ready to keep fighting.

I couldn’t afford to harbor any hope beyond that. I could handle a pleasant surprise. I doubted I’d be able to handle any unexpected rejection, not after so long in solitude.

With nothing left to do, I returned to the beach, took off my sneakers, and kicked at the surf, shivering at the ocean’s cold bite. The temperature helped my feet, both of which were sore from the exertion. My right held up better than I thought possible. When I tired at kicking at the water, I picked a spot where the waves sometimes reached, digging my toes into the sand.

Boredom drove me into collecting tiny shells, which were few and far between. As the sun set, I found a piece of blue sea glass, which I pocketed as a souvenir. I lingered on the beach until most had cleared off before wandering in the general direction of the library, searching for a place to hole up and wait. I found a grove of trees with shrubs, which created a small niche within, visible during the day but invisible at night, assuming I didn’t draw attention to myself. Once certain nobody watched me, I ducked behind one of the palms, crouched, and pushed aside the larger fronds.

The gravel and rocks within would make an uncomfortable seat, but I’d make it work until either the sun rose or Bradley came—if he came.

I could only hope.

TEN

You got a reason to be hiding back there?

Time dragged, but I was grateful I’d wandered to a quiet place, one with no nightlife. The rare car drove by along the street, but the trees and the foliage defended me from the headlights. Every rare now and again, birds called to each other, and some animal or another rustled through the bushes. To my relief, they left me alone. It’d been so long since I’d attempted to use my magic offensively I doubted I’d have the control needed to deal with a mouse let alone a person.

Long after the temperature dropped to frigid and I questioned my idiotic decision to hide in bushes rather than seek out somewhere warm, a car turned on the street heading in the general direction of the library. It stopped, its taillights casting a red glow on the sidewalk, and after a few moments, everything fell dark and a door closed. A second door opened and closed, although I couldn’t tell if the vehicle had multiple people in it or the driver had gotten something out of the backseat.

A backseat would make a comfortable enough place to nap. As it was, I would struggle to extract myself from my rock-infested hiding place. When I did get up, I expected to hurt from head to toe, to go along with my serious case of hungry.

With the help of one of the palms, which jabbed into my hands, I staggered to my feet. My right foot lodged various complaints, but the pain remained on the ‘sore from use’ spectrum rather than ‘broken and possibly scheduled for amputation’ side of things. As such, I ignored its whining, hid behind one of the larger trees nearby, and peeked around the trunk to see who had come calling to the small area in the dead of night.

A few minutes went by before two silhouettes came down the street from the direction of the library, and as they drew closer I recognized Bradley and his father. That he’d brought his father along relieved me.

Bradley’s father could handle most anything—including pursuing older clues in case they came upon a dead end rather than a live me. They talked in hushed tones and headed for the beach’s parking lot, which wasn’t all that far from my hiding spot.

Bradley’s father tensed, and he eased his stride. Then, he said in a tone loud enough for me to hear, “You check the beach, and I’ll check up here.”

Rather than reply, Bradley waved and hurried on his mission to check out the beach.

Bradley’s father waited for his son to disappear from view down the slight hill leading down to the ocean before turning in my direction, crossing his arms, and without a doubt, raising a brow. “Are you just skittish, or you got a reason to be hiding back there?”

“Can it be both?” I replied, and I grimaced at the hoarseness of my voice.