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Fuck, she still isn’t answering. I search for her office number while talking to Jai. “The girl Jasmine, who we caught with John here at the club, she went missing last night. They might have taken her.”
Jai nods and makes another call on his cell. I notice Shaun and Marco both on their cell phones, all of us taking action to expedite the process of locking this down and informing the police. I find the number and call the Boys and Girls Club, asking for Molly before the receptionist tells me she isn’t answering. I then ask for Kelly. I know she is Molly’s manager, and I also spent time with her when I donated funds to their education program, so we are acquainted.
“Hi, Stephen, how can I help?”
“Hi, Kelly, I need Molly, it is an emergency, and she isn’t answering her cell. The receptionist said she isn’t in. Do you know where she is?”
“Sorry, I don’t, we have been super busy here this morning as you can imagine. Let me just check her office.”
I wait as Kelly looks for Molly, it feels like it is taking forever but after five minutes, Kelly comes back on the line.
“Sorry, Stephen, she isn’t here, but oddly, her handbag is still under her desk and her cell phone and laptop are both still here. Let me ask around, and I will call you back if I hear anything.”
We hang up, my anger is rising, my fear for Molly, growing.
“Stephen,” Jake calls my name, startling me out of my thoughts. Standing together, Jake, Shaun, and Marco all look at me.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I called the security team we had on Molly this morning, and they haven’t seen her. She hasn’t left the building, so I asked them to go into the building to locate her.”
“And, did they find her? Is she all right?” I ask, wishing he would just spit it out whatever he is trying to say.
“The receptionist said she was last seen with Byron, leaving the building out the back. She walked him out to his car an hour ago and no one has seen her since.”
My body goes still. My breathing stops. I look at the boys, all three pairs of eyes focused on me, and I am at a loss about how to feel. Anger, fear, guilt all rummage inside of me.
“The team went around the back of the building where staff indicated Byron parked his car, but there was no trace of him or Molly or the car. Just tire marks on the ground compatible with that of a car speeding off in a hurry. The rubber marks were fresh, the team are taking photos and documenting evidence at the moment, but we are trying to tap into their security footage and nearby street footage to see what has happened.”
“Byron took her and left with her an hour ago!” I scream, anger the winning emotion that is now exploding out of my body. I have never been this angry in my life. I want to end him. How dare he touch Molly. The first good thing to enter my life in years and she has been taken. How can this happen, why is this happening to me again?
It is then that the situation really sinks in. My angel is gone, and I don’t know where she is.
***
28
MOLLY
I wake to find my hands and feet tied together, and I am on the floor in a room that is not familiar. My head is throbbing, like someone has taken a bat to it. I hear raised voices, men shouting, fighting with each other as my head continues to thump and my vision blurs.
Trying to make small movements, I feel the nausea begin and the need to vomit overtakes me as I jerk my head to the side near a wall and bring up bile, not remembering when I last ate. I widen my eyes, trying to take in the room in the hope that it will give me some indication of where I am. The fact that I am tied and in a place I don’t know makes me realize that I am in a whole lot of trouble.
Scared and shaking, I look out the small window that is high on the wall - too high for me to reach. It is dark outside, nighttime is upon us, so if my memory is correct, I have been here all afternoon and now into the evening - whatever time it is. The room is bare except for a bed and a chair, both of which have seen better days. I listen to the raised male voices, realizing that they both sound familiar. As I concentrate, I can tell that one is Byron’s, and the memory I have of this morning comes flooding back to me.
He took me. He gave me a coffee like a peace offering and then threw me into his trunk. I have no idea what is going on. Although he is creepy, I did think we were friends, or at the very least, work colleagues. He was the doctor helping gran - oh my God - gran! I panic, worrying that she doesn't know where I am, and I hope she is all right and safe.
The other voice yells, pulling me from my panicked thoughts. It also sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. I can make out most of their words, and I realize they are arguing about me, about taking me without any thought to the consequences and for drugging me. Drugs? I have no idea what they are talking about and start to think back to the events of this morning before the nausea climbs my throat and I jerk to the side once again. I bring up more bile, dry heaving until my throat burns and my stomach clenches in discomfort.
Drugs. Byron gave me a coffee, and I now remember that I felt unwell afterward. He drugged me in my own office. I am such a fool. Their shouts become louder, and I hear thumps. Are they physically fighting? Listening closely, I can hear them arguing over the fact that I am here. Byron is yelling, saying he wanted me while the other voice is calling him an idiot.
Adrenaline starts to kick in as I squirm and pull at the ropes that tie me together. Rolling around on the floor, I try to get a limb free, so I can attempt to get out of here. I’m pulling and pushing, over and over but the ropes are so tight, and the friction burns my skin. I can’t get free. The only things I accomplish are bleeding wrists and ankles where the rope has rubbed through my skin, which is both painful and messy as the blood runs down my fingers and soaks my clothes and down my feet and onto the floor. The old, grey carpet is now spotted with red.
Lying still now, I try to catch my breath and think of another plan as I continue to listen to the noises outside the door. As I look around, I notice that the men are no longer yelling, they have stopped fighting, and I hear them mumbling to each other. Clearly, a cease fire has been reached. I then hear footsteps and the door of the bedroom is pushed open so violently that it hits the wall and creates a dent in the plaster. I look up and see John, the revolting older man from Stephen’s club, the one who had Jasmine all those weeks ago.
I’m confused, what is he doing here? Why is he here with Byron? As my brain slowly begins to join the dots, understanding hits me that they must be friends. I was drugged and kidnapped by a man I knew and brought here to this horrible apartment. If Byron is friends with John, that means that the night I saw him with Jasmine, he may have been trying to kidnap her too! The situations are similar, except I drank my spiked coffee and Jasmine was smart enough to only take little sips of the drinks she was offered. That damn coffee! If only I had declined.
“Well, look who's awake. About time. Come with me, sweetheart.” Everything about John disgusts me. From the first moment I saw him until now, he is repulsive inside and out. He reaches out and grabs my arm, squeezing it tight, and I yelp in pain. He is a big man, and I am less than half his size. I have always been small, and it never really bothered me until now. Now I want to fight back but I can’t, I am just a ragdoll to these men. I don’t want to go with him, and I struggle, moving my body like a slippery fish unsure of what to do, but knowing I don’t want to make it easy for him. I fall out of his grasp, slipping back to the floor with a thud. I hear a crack and I feel pain shoot through my wrist, which has broken in my rough landing. I gasp in agony, not able to support it like I want to because I am tied by the rope.
