Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.
A/N: This story is AU and takes place early season one, a couple of weeks after "To Be Seventeen" ended. Also, I've written the character of Frank Atwood differently then how he was portrayed both physically and personality-wise on the show. In my story, Frank Atwood is not a nice person.
Also, I've decided to occasionally respond to some of the reviews/comments I receive regarding my story at the end of the chapter. This way, I can give feedback to guest reviewers as well as acknowledge readers who have been offering me continued support of my writing.
Chapter Eleven
"It's the bottom of the ninth and the Padres are down by three. There's two outs and the bases are loaded. Mark Loretta, the Padre's big slugger, is due up."
Frank turns the radio up a little louder, then glances over at his son. "Still sleepin' like a baby, ain't ya," he says as he lights up another cigarette. "I would've taken the whole fuckin' bottle of oxy had I known the drug was gonna knock ya out."
"Folks, this is what we like to call a real nail biter... it just doesn't get any more exciting than this."
"Come on, Loretta... hit one outta the park for the home team."
"We interrupt this program to bring you a special broadcast from the Emergency Alert System."
"What the... NO!"
"An AMBER Alert has just been issued for Ryan Atwood of Newport Beach, California. Ryan is sixteen years old, has dark blond hair and blue eyes. He's approximately five foot nine inches tall and a hundred fifty-five pounds. Ryan is wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt, gray hoodie and black leather jacket and has been seen riding a BMX bike."
"I don't believe this... I don't fuckin' believe this!"
"Ryan has been abducted by his father, Frank Atwood. Frank Atwood is forty-three, has brown hair and blue eyes. He's six feet tall and approximately two-hundred and ten pounds. He may be sporting a beard to cover a scar on his chin and has numerous tattoos, including a snake on his right forearm and two crossing daggers piercing a heart on the back of his neck."
Frank rubs the whiskers on his face as he contemplates what he needs to do to get out of this mess. He hears his son groan as the boy shifts his position in the passenger side seat. "You are not bringin' me down kid, you hear me? You are not gonna screw this up for me..."
"Frank may be driving a black Ford F150 but father and son were last seen together in a dark blue Dodge Ram pickup. The father may be armed and is considered dangerous. If you see Frank Atwood or his son, Ryan, police ask that you not approach them but call 911 immediately."
Frank feels his blood begin to boil as he shuts off the radio. "God dammit it!" Frank yells as he slams his hand into the steering wheel.
Ryan wakes up from the sudden noise and frantically looks around. As his vision slowly comes into focus, he reads the passing road sign and sees they're ten miles north of San Diego. It won't be long now, Ryan thinks to himself. We're not far from the border... god, I don't want to go to Mexico...
"Ms. Swanson?"
"Yeah, who are you?"
"I'm Detective O'Brien from the Newport Beach Police Department. This is my partner, Detective Strauss. May we come in?"
Darlene takes a long drag from her cigarette and slowly exhales the smoke. She knew this was going to happen. I shoulda never gotten involved, she thinks to herself.
"Ms. Swanson? May we come in?" Jack reiterates. "We would like to ask you a few questions."
"Sure, come on in," Darlene says, somewhat enamored with the detective's Irish brogue and assuming there's little use in arguing. She knows they would just come back with a warrant... might as well get it over with now.
Jack and Kathryn step into the tiny trailer and take a quick look around. Dirty dishes are piled high in the sink and stacks of magazines, catalogs and unread mail clutter the counter tops. Kathryn catches her breath as she spies a large, brown cockroach skittering across the unswept floor.
"So... what do ya wanna ask me," Darlene says as she pours herself another glass of vodka and sits down at a small, mustard yellow, formica kitchen table.
"Ms. Swanson..."
"Darlene. You can call me Darlene," she says as she looks the male detective over.
"All right, Darlene... you called Dr. Gabriel Evans and told him Ryan's father is keeping the lad against his will," Jack states, hoping the woman isn't too drunk to answer a few simple questions.
"Yeah, that's what I told him and that's the truth!" Darlene spits out, wondering if she's now going to be called a liar.
"Ms. Swa... Darlene, because of you, we've been able to issue an AMBER Alert for Ryan," Jack explains calmly. "Is there anything you can think of that could help us locate Frank and Ryan?"
"I dunno... I don't know what you mean..."
"Something Frank or Ryan said... something they did... anything..."
"All I know is that Frank is gone and now a gotta start all over," Darlene laments as she lights up another cigarette. "He was my ticket outta this godforsaken hell hole..."
"Jack, it's going to be on now," Kathryn says as she reads her latest text message.
"Darlene, could you please turn on the TV to your local news station?" Jack asks politely.
"Sure... I suppose," Darlene says, not understanding why the detectives suddenly want to watch some lame local news program.
"You've just heard the AMBER Alert that has been issued for Ryan Atwood. Now, Mr. Sandy Cohen, Ryan's lawyer and legal guardian, would like to make a statement."
Darlene sits up a little straighter and peers intently at the TV, finding herself interested in hearing what the attorney has to say.
"Frank Atwood... three months ago, I came to you as a lawyer." Sandy pauses a moment to clear his throat, then continues. "I asked you to let your son go so my wife and I could become Ryan's legal guardians. You didn't hesitate... I hope because you knew, deep down in your heart, that it was best for Ryan... best for your son." Sandy takes a moment to breathe, determined to stay in control of his emotions. "I come to you now, not as a lawyer, but as a father." Sandy quickly chokes back his tears as he feels Kirsten take hold of his hand. With his wife standing by his side, Sandy finds the strength to continue. "I'm asking you again to let your son go. Please, I beg of you... please don't hurt him." Sandy feels the sting of tears fill his eyes as he wonders what's happened to the boy who has graced his family with his shy smile and quiet demeanor for the past three months. "We love Ryan with all our hearts. Please Frank, let Ryan go." Sandy squeezes Kirsten's hand and looks directly into the camera. "I'm asking you again Frank, please... let your son go."
Darlene grabs the remote and shuts off the TV. "I gotta kid, ya know," she says with deep sadness in her voice as a single tear emerges from her eye and trickles down her cheek. "He's gotta birthday comin' up soon. Gonna be seven... I think."
Jack waits a moment for the woman to collect herself, hoping that seeing and listening to Mr. Cohen will get the woman to open up a little more.
"Frank was in the bathroom takin' a shower," Darlene explains, thinking back to how happy she was just a short time ago. "I decided to go and check on the boy."
"Where was Ryan?" Kathryn asks as she starts peeking her head inside the tiny rooms down the hall.
"His father had him handcuffed to the bed in that room there," Darlene says, pointing to the room where Kathryn is standing.
"May I look around?" Kathryn asks politely.
"Sure, knock yourself out... I ain't got nuthin' to hide."
"Why did you check on the lad?" Jack asks, curious about the woman's motive.
"I uh... um... well, I wanted to, um... I just wanted to get to know him a little better, that's all," Darlene explains impatiently. "Is that a crime?"
"Didn't you find it just the least bit disconcerting that Frank had placed his son in restraints while you two were busy doing whatever you two were... I don't know ... doing?"
"I dunno... I guess..." Darlene lets out a heavy sigh, hoping she won't have to admit the real reason she looked in on the teenager.
Kathryn comes walking back into the kitchen, not having found anything interesting except for a bottle of oxycodone next to the bathroom sink. "That bottle of oxycodone in the bathroom... did Frank have access to it?" Kathryn asks, wondering if the father would go so far as to drug his son.
"Yeah, I guess..."
Kathryn sits down next to Darlene and tries her best to remain patient with the woman. "Darlene, why don't you just tell us how you knew to call Dr. Evans."
Darlene looks down at her half empty glass of vodka, then glances sadly towards the hallway as she taps into her patchy memory. "The boy told me to take the doctor's business card from his jacket pocket... he begged me to call Dr. Evans after he and Frank left. Ryan said he had to stay with his father..."
"Why?" Jack asks, frustrated that the woman just didn't call the police the moment Ryan asked for help. "Why all the tiptoeing around?"
Darlene looks over at Jack and calmly adds, "Ryan told me he has to stay with Frank so no one else gets hurt."
So no one else gets hurt, Jack repeats to himself. Lenny Thompson. "Ryan must know who assaulted his uncle."
"Uncle? The boy never mentioned an uncle," Darlene adds, confused with the whole situation.
"Ryan must be terrified... thank goodness he was able to think clearly enough to ask you to call Dr. Evans," Kathryn says to Darlene, understanding how much courage it must have taken the woman to get involved.
"All right, Darlene, here's my card," Jack says as he hands the frazzled woman his business card. "Please call me if you think of anything else. We'll have an officer stationed outside on the street..."
"You think I'm in danger?" Darlene asks, not sure if she likes the idea of a cop watching her place.
"It's just a precaution," Jack replies as he and Kathryn stand up to leave. Jack turns around before stepping outside the trailer and looks back towards Darlene. "You did the right thing, Darlene. Calling that doctor... helping the lad... you did the right thing."
Ryan senses something's very wrong as his father abruptly exits off the freeway and drives around a deserted industrial park. He glances over at Frank and swallows back his fear... that look in his father's eyes... he's seen it before. A foreboding look; the one that comes before all hell breaks loose as his father unleashes his unbridled fury.
"What's going on?" Ryan asks, taking the chance to get some information from his seething, angry father. "Did something happen?"
Frank doesn't say a word as he pulls up to an abandoned warehouse, shuts off the engine and gets out of the truck.
Ryan doesn't move as he watches his father walk around the front of the truck and open the door to the backseat. He's not sure what is going on or what he's supposed to do.
Frank grabs Ryan's jacket and hoodie from the backseat, then yanks the passenger side door open, grabbing Ryan's arm and pulling his son out of the truck.
Ryan tries to keep his balance as his father pushes him towards a half-open metal door.
"Get your ass inside," Frank snarls, pushing his son again... this time a little harder.
"I don't understand... why have we stopped here?" Ryan asks, becoming more and more alarmed as he's shoved inside the deserted building.
"I'll tell ya why," Frank says as he pushes his son one last time... this time hard enough so the boy falls down onto the hard concrete floor. "For some reason, the cops don't think you ran away... they know I abducted you."
"Then let's just go to Mexico," Ryan reasons, knowing now that Darlene must have called his therapist. "They probably won't look for us there."
"You don't get it, do ya!" Frank spits out as he takes the handcuff and snaps one end around his son's right wrist and attaches the other end to a thick pipe running along the baseboard near the floor. "There ain't no way I'm gettin' into Mexico if I got you with me!"
"Hey, whaddya doin' here? Thish' is mmm... my space," a woman stammers with slurred speech and annoyance as she emerges from a dark corner and starts approaching Frank.
"Not anymore it ain't," Frank says calmly as he takes his gun from the waistband of his pants and shoots the woman point-blank in the chest.
Ryan gasps in horror as he watches the woman drop to the floor as dark red blood pools around her body. "You killed her! You didn't have to kill her!"
"Oh relax... she's just some drunken crack whore, heroin addict... no one's gonna miss her."
Ryan remains shocked and horrified as he looks at the woman laying motionless on the floor. He yanks hard on the handcuff but the pipe is firmly bolted into the wall; the bracket around the pipe prohibiting him from being able to stand.
Frank throws Ryan's hoodie on the floor and starts rummaging through his jacket pockets, taking out the passport and driver's license. "Don't want anyone finding these," he says as he places his son's ID's in his own pocket. Frank checks the rest of the pockets and suddenly becomes perplexed. "Where is it?"
"Where's what," Ryan replies cautiously.
"That business card... that card you had with the shrink's phone number..."
"What... you were looking through my stuff?" Ryan asks, feeling somewhat violated. He's never liked people looking through his things without his permission.
"Where the hell is that card!" Frank yells, throwing the jacket down on the floor.
"I don't know!" Ryan yells back.
"Don't lie to me, boy! You know what happens when you lie to me!"
"It must have fallen out of my pocket, or something," Ryan offers, knowing he's never been very good at lying.
"That's bullshit!" Frank shouts as he kicks his son hard in the side of his leg.
Ryan immediately kicks back, hitting his father square in the shin with his leather boot.
Frank curses in pain, then lunges down towards his son, grabbing Ryan's left arm and twisting it behind the boy's back. He then kneels on top of his son's thighs to pin him down, rendering the struggling boy powerless to fight back.
"Who did you give that card to, huh? Tell me!" Frank commands angrily as he places his free hand around his son's neck.
"No one!" Ryan gasps as his father tightens his grip, causing him to start choking.
"Was it the store clerk? Did you slip him the card when you were payin' for my stuff?" Frank asks as he releases his hold on the boy's neck and grabs him by his hair, yanking his son's head back so he can stare at him directly in the eye.
"No!" Ryan maintains through clenched teeth, refusing to give into his father.
"I said don't lie to me!" Frank hollers as he lets go of Ryan's hair and thrusts his fist hard into the boy's stomach.
Ryan buckles over in pain as he tries again to free himself from his father's grasp.
"Then it must've been Darlene... that bitch!" Frank concludes, grabbing ahold of Ryan's hair again as he glares into his son's terrified eyes. "Is that what you two were doin' together? What... were you whorin' yourself out so she'd do you a favor? Is that it?"
Ryan grimaces in pain as his father continues to dig his knees into his thighs and pull his hair; his left arm beginning to go numb as it's held behind his back.
"Ya know, I never wanted ya," Frank states coldly as he watches tears fill his son's eyes. "I told your mom to get an abortion, but she wouldn't... damn bitch. We already had Trey! He was enough trouble... still is, I hear."
Ryan again tries yanking on the handcuff but is only met with more pain as the metal cuts into his already sore, chafed wrist, causing a small trickle of blood to run down his hand.
"Your mom claimed I raped her when I was drunk," Frank continues, explaining to his son the harsh reality. "Well, I got news for ya... a man can't rape his own goddamn wife!"
Ryan contemplates telling his father that he's wrong, but quickly decides against it.
"Ya know what I think?" Frank sneers. "I think your mom had you just to spite me."
"I hate you," Ryan says, gritting his teeth as he feels the sting of tears stream slowly down his cheek.
"I don't care."
Ryan closes his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the man who's supposed to be his father and not understanding what he's ever done to deserve the man's wrath.
Frank releases his son from his brutal grasp and slowly stands up to leave.
"Dad, please... don't leave me here!" Ryan pleads as he watches his father walk towards the door. "Please, Dad!" Ryan makes one last attempt to pull free of the handcuff, but the restraint and the pipe remain steadfast. "Don't leave me here!"
Frank stands in the doorway listening to his son beg, then lights a cigarette to calm his own frazzled nerves. "When I get across the border and I'm sippin' tequila with a senorita on my lap, I'll call Joe and Tony... they'll come and getcha."
Ryan hears the names "Joe" and "Tony" and quickly remembers the image of his uncle on the polaroid snapshot. "No, Dad... please don't leave me here!"
"Goodbye, son," Frank states, his voice cold and calm as he slams the metal door shut and walks back to his truck. Such a shame it had to end this way...
Individual Replies:
anonymous: Hah, it never crossed my mind to have Frank run over Ryan on the side of the road. But, I think that would have been too easy for Frank. ;-) I'm trying to make Frank not just mean and apathetic, but also evil. Not sure if I'm succeeding, but that is my goal.
Starwarrior87: No need to apologize. I'm happy you're reading and enjoying my story. :-)
guest: I never thought about Kirsten and her sister. That's an excellent analogy. They should have used that in the show, or maybe they did and I missed it?
Deluded Visions: I agree, the Cohen's + 1 were the best part of the OC. Thank you for your kind and thoughtful review. :-)
Emily: I'm not familiar with Kaitlin Cooper other than she was Marissa's younger sister. Since you seem to have a lot of ideas, have you given any thought to writing your own story? I was encouraged a year and a half ago by an author on this site to write my own stories. You may want to give it a shot. :-)
