I promise I haven't forgotten about this story! Thank you for your patience.
Chapter 29
I tucked my iPod into my pocket as I stepped out of the SUV in my driveway. As the men trooped toward the front porch I took a moment to survey the street. Two houses down, Mr. Horace paused in the act of putting out his garbage cans to peer through his thick lenses at us. I waved a neighbourly hello to him and he beckoned me over. I glanced over at Carlos, still standing on the porch, waiting for me. He was staring down the street toward Mr. Horace, his usual unreadable expression on his face.
"I'll be right back," I called to Carlos, already halfway across the lawn. Sure, he was technically my guardian at the moment, if you squinted and turned your head to the side, but that didn't mean I was going to let him stop me from living my life as I saw fit. And right now, I needed to be neighbourly and let Mr. Horace know that everything is all right.
"Be careful," he called back, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. Did he seriously just say that? Just when I thought I had a handle on him he changed things up.
Turning back to face him briefly, I asked, "You're going to stand there and watch to make sure, aren't you?" He didn't reply, opting instead for raising a single eyebrow at me. He was infuriating. I rolled my eyes and made my way down the street to Mr. Horace, trying to think of a way to bring Carlos down a few notches. It's not like he was Superman or anything, he has weaknesses. I know because I've seen a couple of them. All I had to do was find a chink in the armour and irritate it. I was a teenager. Pretty sure irritation was my speciality.
Mr. Horace was stuffing one more bag of garbage into the bin when I approached. "Garbage night tonight," he reminded me briskly, wiping his hands on his faded jeans, like I couldn't have inferred as much from the fact that he was putting his bins out and the line of everyone else's bins along the curb. "Need me to help you clear out your fridge?"
"Thanks," I smiled. "I think I can handle it though. What's the goer?"
Mr. Horace was like a one person neighbourhood watch. He kept an eye on things when people were out of town. Made sure wives and children were looked after while husbands were on business trips. Overall, if you wanted or needed help, Mr. Horace was the man you were after. He was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty-five years old as far as I could tell, and had lived on the street for as long as I could remember. I'm pretty sure he'd been my babysitter a time or two when I was little and my parents couldn't find anyone else, but his thick glasses made Mom uncomfortable, so generally, she avoided him if she could. Dad had had less reservations about him, but still wasn't completely trusting. Personally, I didn't see what their problem was. He was just really short sighted.
"You've got a bunch of men in your house," he pointed out the obvious. "Everything okay?"
"They're getting there," I said vaguely. "The men are trustworthy. They're from Jersey, bunch of security experts."
His eyebrows rose up above his glasses as his eyes widened, looking cartoonish through the extreme magnification. I knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth, but after spending a couple of days having most of my questions pre-empted – and tamping down on my frustrations – I let him voice it before answering. "What's going on, Mab? Does this have to do with your Dad?"
I was stunned at how he'd hit the nail on the head. How did we get from the here and now to six months ago so quickly? I answered his question with a question of my own. "Should it be about my Dad?" I asked.
"A guy named Hughes came around asking questions," Mr. Horace informed me. "It got me to thinking."
"About?"
"Things," he stated firmly. "Give me an hour or so to get my ducks in a row and I'll come round and discuss my thoughts with those men you've got." I nodded, unable to find a way to verbally respond. "You're sure they're trustworthy?"
Sending him a brief smirk, I responded lightly, "It doesn't matter what I say you're going to make your own judgement when you meet them."
*o*
Hal and Cal were roped to kitchen chairs by the time the other men arrived from the hospital with Amabel. It had been partially Steph's idea to have the pair tied up and ready to hand over to the girl, but Tank had been the one chuckling with glee as wrapped the heavy duty garden rope around them. Two hours ago. Now, he leaned against the counter, coffee cup in hand as he leered at the men. Lester, Bobby and Hank all filed in, following their keen sense of smell to the freshly brewed coffee, and stopped directly in front of the pair, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"We should see if there's any popcorn in the pantry," Lester commented.
Hank shook he head. "What we need is a video camera and a permanent marker."
Bobby sent a look down the line to the engineer. "Permanent marker?"
There was a twinkle in his eye as he explained, "I figured they needed to be labelled."
Stephanie followed her stomach into the room at that moment, brandishing her trusty Sharpie. "Please let me do the honours!" she requested, attempting to snatching a coffee cup from the counter where Lester had been pouring. As always, she was just that little bit too slow as the men grabbed their cups and stood back. "Just a sip?" Steph pleaded, following after Lester as he backed away.
"Beautiful," he admonished gently. "You know it's not going to happen."
She sighed and pulled out a nearby chair so that she could sit and wait for the show while Tank went about seeing if he could find the makings for a hot chocolate for her. She was just about to ask where Carlos and Amabel were when she heard voices coming from the front of the house. It was a brief conversation, as was typical where Carlos was involved, and then the door was opening and determined footsteps came down the hall.
"They're in here!" Steph called gleefully as Hank fumbled to retrieve his smart phone from his pocket. "Ready and waiting."
Mab came into the room and immediately laid eyes on the two captives. It was hard to tell if she even realised anyone else was in the room as a hard mask fell over her usually open and friendly face. "You make me sick," she spat, stopping just a step or so into the room so that Carlos was left to lean against the doorjamb behind her. "What would even possess you to go through a woman's underwear when she's missing and possibly in danger?!"
"Utterly despicable," Lester agreed, smile beaming.
"What are you going to do to them?" Steph asked, twirling the sharpie through her fingers.
"We have a few suggestions if you're stuck," Bobby put in.
Hope to hear from you, thanks again for waiting so long!
