Chapter Twenty-Four
The kidnapping of reporter George Fayne, Burt Edgerton, Bess Marvin, and Nick was over in a matter of seconds.
At close to ten at night, when most were safe in their apartment complexes and houses, no one saw a thing. No one heard George's muffled scream, no one was alarmed in any way.
Her kidnappers knew Nancy Drew's friends all too well. Max and his buddy Charlie planned to ransom Nancy's friends life in exchange for bringing them the accounting book and the ledger, per the boss's orders, where they would burn it.
Bess and George knew these two were on Thomas's pay roll as she listened to the guy who called himself Charlie complain about how the stupid detective had bumped into him one morning when he'd dropped off a box of supplies into Thomas's office, and she'd been so lost in her own little world, she hadn't even bothered to apologize, much less look up at him, so she hadn't seen who he was.
Kidnapping women for Max was usually pretty simple, just pick 'em up and go, or at least that's what his friends had all told him before he'd burnt them to their deaths…
This Fayne woman was tiny too, just like a little doll. She couldn't have been over 5'5. As his gaze drifted upwards towards the rear view mirror, he was astonished to see the girl was sleeping, her head lolled against the shoulder of the football player's arm.
Max shook his head in disbelief. How the hell she could sleep at a time like this was beyond him. He was honestly kind of surprised she and the little blonde bitch weren't screaming and crying in a state near hysterics, demanding to be dropped off somewhere and released. He looked at his two new 'prizes.
They'd both fetch a good price to the right buyers, assuming the boss didn't kill everyone, keep him in fine cigars and whiskey for a month or so.
Hell, with the money he planned to ransom them for or sell them off to the highest bidder if the redhead detective didn't cooperate, once he was finished, he could buy out all of Illinois.
He had been hoping to get the nosy little techie all on her own, but he owed the redhead bitch a solid upper cut to the jaw and what better way to strike fear into the girl's heart than by taking her friends that Nancy Drew claimed to love and would do anything for?
His cold gaze was unwavering and unabashed as he glanced in the rear view mirror a couple of times at his strange new prizes.
A beautiful blonde and the petite little athletic brunette. No doubt they'd fetch one hell of a heavy price…to the right buyer. His cold black eyes were like bottomless pools of darkness with no emotions whatsoever in them at all.
If you were unlucky enough to get close enough to Max to look him in the eyes, you'd be shocked to say and see that you'd find nothing inside.
Yes, really. Nothing.
Max flicked through the contacts on his phone until he found the boss's number and dialed it. He answered on the first ring. "Hey, Boss. It's me. We got 'em. The girls are both in the van. Where you want 'em? The location you an' Charlie talked about earlier?"
"Yes," growled Barreau's voice, and their boss sounded totally pissed off. "But leave the Drew bitch to me. I'll take care of the fucking little brat."
"'Kay. Got it."
He ended the call promptly, and Bess and Nick exchanged a terrified glance with each other from the backseat of the van. Just great.
They were headed towards an undisclosed location and Nancy was about to get the phone call of her life in a minute.
Max's eyes drifted upwards towards the mirror and fixated on Fayne's face.
This little bitch had put up more of a fight than the little blonde girl did, but if he was being honest, he kind of liked it.
Max and Charlie liked a woman with a little bit of fight in her. More fun that way.
As his gaze lingered on the sleeping pretty brunette's face, the left side of his faint scarred pink lip tugged upwards, creating a sinister smirk on his face at thoughts of future bruises to impart on the girl's unblemished skin filled his mind if she didn't cooperate.
Though, really, it was Nancy Drew that his boss wanted. Goddamned little bitch had made his boss's life a living hell for a few years, thinking that she was better than the people of River Heights, and what really got under his skin and irritated him was how well-cared for the girl was.
She had a boyfriend and friends who cared for her, endless resources at her disposal, was always so well-put together, so it brought a sick sense of joy to imagine her begging and crying to be released.
Max scowled and brought his cigarette to his lips, taking another long drag, not even noticing that his fingers were slightly shaking as he fought to hold it steady.
The wrinkled toxic stick that would probably give him lung cancer someday had a slow, creeping stench. Within moments, its chemicals invaded everything.
The smoke had this weird sense of entitlement almost. The nicotine made him function.
He used to be just fine without it, but now, if he didn't get his daily fix, he was a bundle of nerves, all jittery and snappy and even way more violent than he even knew what to do with himself.
He would get headaches a lot, and his smokes, Marlboros, were the only thing that seemed to help ease the pounding in his skull and the dark, demonic voices.
When the pain and the voices came, his brain would make a million excuses to cave in, and he really only needed just the one. Max knew that he had an addiction to it. He'd tried to quit a couple of times, but it was painful for him to give up smoking.
It was always there for him when nothing else was, and that should have been enough. It made his brain feel happy again if he was even capable of feeling that emotion.
And he felt so bad to let it go since it was the one thing in a crappy life that he could always depend on to improve his mood on a particularly bad day, like tonight because of her.
The need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at his soul, relentless and uncaring. Festering like a septic wound, and the only antibiotic was the cold, hard, swift hand of vengeance. Savage. Spiteful. It appealed to his rather twisted and dark sense of humor.
Burt, meanwhile, did not protest as he allowed George to sleep against his shoulder. It was likely due to the stress and taxation of being kidnapped that caused her to pass out.
Part of Burt had wished that George would have run away while she could, save herself, and he would deal with this creep on his own, but a stronger, more selfish part of Burt's mind was grateful that she hadn't left his side during this whole ordeal.
Besides, if this man tried to hurt George, Burt might be able to save her from him. George Fayne, Burt knew, only from what she and Nancy and Bess had both told him, had spent a good deal of her life pretty much on her own when she could have used a friend.
And the thought of allowing her to go through something traumatic like this by herself, with no one to support her in any way without her boyfriend by her side, was truly frightening.
George shifted in her sleep and gave a jolt awake as the van lurched over a speed bump at an alarming speed as the guy drove.
"Wha—what happened?"
"It's gonna be all right, sweetheart," Burt spoke up in a quiet voice, hoping his voice was calm, though he couldn't quell the slight tremor in his voice. "I promise."
"Burt," she whispered hoarsely, feeling the panic seize her throat. It felt like her heart was creeping its way up into her chest. She thought she might throw up. "I—I can't breathe," she whimpered, not moving her head from where it was resting on his shoulder.
"Just—just stay calm, okay, hon? Can you breathe? I need you to breathe for me, nice and slow," he urged desperately, casting a pleading glance up towards the driver's seat, where Max was watching the pair of them, seemingly interested. "Please, man," he begged, one hand on George's shoulder as she struggled, heaving for breath. "She can't breathe. She's having a panic attack. Just…let us go if you know what's good for you."
"No," he growled, returning his attention to the road in front of him. "Not happening, Fillet Burt," he snorted, rolling his eyes at his own joke. "Girl can't breathe and you gotta remind the nosy little bitch of a reporter how?" he hissed. "What a sick joke…"
There were several angry comebacks that came to Burt's mind in that moment as he shot the guys in the front seat of the van a venomous look, but he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood and fell silent, choosing to focus solely on George.
She needed him more than Max needed to be told off right now.
Be strong, his conscience advised, and if he paid close enough attention, the voice inside his head sounded like Ned's, his roommate's. For her. Stay calm, and you just might get out of this alive. But you've never been kidnapped before. And that was all it took for Burt's steady stream of panicked, unhelpful thoughts to start coursing through his mind.
The wild thoughts of whatever these jerks' boss had in mind for the two of them began to accelerate inside Burt's head. He wanted them to slow down so he could rationally think his way out of this, but they wouldn't quit it.
He breathed a sigh of relief as George seemed to overcome whatever panic attack she was suffering from, watching as the young brunette's shoulders seemed to sag in relief and she collapsed her head back against the passenger headrest of the van, closing her eyes as she willed her breathing to regulate back to something that even closely resembled normal.
"It's going to be all right, George, but please don't scare me like that again," Burt whispered, pursing his lips into a thin, straight line, lowering his voice so that only his girlfriend could hear, careful to be mindful of the cautious way their kidnapper was eyeing him. "We—Nancy and I—need you alive and well. Yeah?"
She stifled a weak smile and mutely nodded, afraid if she opened her mouth to speak, she'd vomit.
George glanced sideways at Burt and her stomach lurched as she realized the true severity of their situation.
This guy was dead serious. He wasn't going to let them go until he got what he wanted, though why he wanted Nancy Drew was beyond her.
She hadn't even heard of the name Thomas Barreau unless the creep was using some kind of alias.
The atmosphere in Max's van felt like it was spinning, and George clenched her eyes shut, trying to make her panicked thoughts slow to something that her mind could cope with, but they just wouldn't. God, she felt so sick.
Like she was going to throw up. Her stomach lurched as the acidic bile coated the back of her throat and a muscle in her jaw twitched as she fought it back down.
Max noticed her sudden discomfort and frowned. "You throw up back there and I'm gonna make you clean it up. Or maybe I'll just make you eat it," he snarled meanly, taking the van into way too far a sharp left turn that almost tipped it.
The man glanced at George from the rear view mirror and George swallowed, not wanting to meet his listless gaze but unable to pull her attention away first, either.
She couldn't let this creep see just how much he was getting to her. Be cool, she told herself, echoing her boss, Perry's words, at Best Buy where she worked on the Geek Squad.
Keep a level head, Fayne. George knew that no matter what, she had to be strong. If not for herself, then for Burt. The cold look reflected in Max's face gave George the shudders.
His strong hands were curled into tight fists around the steering wheel as he put the car into park. Damn.
This was so not good.
George bit her bottom lip and stuck it out in a slight pout as the guy unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the driver's side of the van.
"That's real cute, honey," he taunted as he wrenched open the passenger side door and yanked George to her feet, not even waiting for the reporter to get her seat belt unbuckled all the way through. "But it isn't gonna save you. You're gonna make a little phone call."
"H—how?" she whimpered, her gaze flitting back and forth between Burt and Max. "Y—you stole my phone and trashed it when you threw it on the ground."
George swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat, suddenly hating the fact that she felt parched, and her throat felt like it was on fire, and she just wanted a drink.
Max was a guy who seemed to have no sense of humanity, and he certainly had a heart of stone, considering he had just kidnapped the two of them and was taking her and Burt to an undisclosed location, to do what with them, only he knew that for sure.
George decided she didn't want to know whatever it was that this jackass had planned. His cold gaze locked with hers, and George flinched, biting her bottom lip.
A habit of hers whenever she was nervous, and she guessed by the end of the night if she were still alive, she would have bitten the whole thing off and wouldn't even have a lip anymore.
She let out a tiny squeak of fear as Max's hand drifted towards the strap of her black bag and rummaged through it, checking through it one more time, no doubt to make sure she didn't have a pager or any other means of calling the cops for help.
Burt frowned and if such a thing was possible, his face blanched and drained of color as Max's hands moved away from rummaging through her black bag on her shoulder and began groping at her chest, more specifically, near her breasts.
"You can grope and feel her up all day long, asshole, but you won't find anything on her, sir, trust me, sir, she came just as is," Burt snapped hotly, no longer minding what he said around this guy, for he had taken things way too far. Nancy and George's parents were going to kill him.
"Let's go, nice an' quiet now, don't you go making a fuss or it'll be worse for you, honey," he growled, relinquishing his grip on her breast and instead yanking her forward by her arm, ignoring George's pained yelp of surprise at the harsh gesture. "That's it."
George let out a whimper, knowing she would never be able to forget that evil glint in the monster's beady black eyes.
How Max had smelled of smoke, fire, ash, and the last one was the worst: charred flesh and burnt hair. Of danger. And how if she and Burt couldn't think of some way to call Nancy and get out of this mess, then they were well and truly screwed, completely at this madman's mercy and his whims.
"Damn." She whispered it through gritted teeth, feeling her jaw lock up. No one was coming to save them. Her eyes strained for some sign of what was to come, hoping her dark eyes didn't betray just how nervous and skittish she actually was, as she heard the heavy footfalls of Burt's feet as he followed closely behind the guy and George.
Surely, Nancy was worried about them by now, right? She or Frank had to be looking for them. It was about the time Nancy would be getting off work.
They'd been riding in his damn van for at least a half hour, and now they looked like they were at an old abandoned warehouse.
If the two of them were lucky, Nancy had tried to call and gotten suspicious when George didn't answer (she always answered when it came to Nancy, no matter what!) and had started making some phone calls, hopefully to Chief McGinnis or that other cop, Eli.
"Nancy, she…she said she would call me," she whispered, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized what remained of her cell phone was now shattered into little bitty pieces back at the street corner sidewalk that these creeps had nabbed them off of.
"Huh?" Max barked, glancing over at George from behind his shoulder. "You say something, Georgie?"
George clenched her jaw and silently seethed at the use of the nickname for her, a muscle in her jaw twitching, but she swallowed hard and forced her voice to remain calm, though she could do nothing about how badly she was shaking as she allowed herself to be led towards the warehouse like a cow to a slaughterhouse.
George let out a sigh as she shifted her little black bag to her other shoulder, grateful, at the very least, that the creep had let her keep her wallet and her bag from Bess and hadn't totally destroyed it, seemingly not at all interested in her money, save for the forty dollars he'd stolen out of her wallet, and even that George suspected he'd done it just to mess with her.
"Please," George begged, wincing as the one called Charlie grabbed hold of her arm and violently tugged her forward, motioning with a jerk of his head for Burt to follow them too. "Wh—what are you gonna do to us? Look, man, please just let us go, or—or drop us off somewhere, I don't care where, and we'll walk back. You don't want to do this, guy."
Charlie laughed. "Yes, we do."
Burt chimed in with his two cents, eager to defend his girlfriend. "You have our word, man, that we'll not repeat a word to anyone of what you tried to do to us, though if you hold us against our will for much longer, Nancy's gonna start to get worried."
"Th—that's right. Nancy's gonna call the cops and come after you, a-and we won't say we didn't warn you. We're not going to be held responsible for what happens to you if Nancy and Frank catch you, guy. Th—this is us trying to warn you. Let us go," George breathed, feeling her breaths catch in her throat.
If she was being completely honest with herself right now, Max scared her, more than any other criminal Nancy had come across over the years on different cases, and he wasn't even the mastermind behind all of this. Thomas Barreau was.
But Max was quiet, not having spoken much to the two of them unless it was to threaten them. His mostly handsome face had that perfected look of impassive indifference, and she couldn't quite tell what the creep was thinking, and George, liked to be able to look a person in the eyes and figure out whatever it was that was weighing on their mind. And she didn't get that whenever she locked eyes with the stranger.
When she did look into the guy's eyes, there was nothing there, and the only sign of his arrival had been a sudden drop in the air temperature and the descent of eerie silence.
"We're here," Max breathed, a note of excitement creeping into his tone, his grip tightening on George's arm. His other hand rested way too long on her waist, way longer than she would have liked.
Though she knew shouting at him wasn't going to make him remove it, so the reporter chose silence as a response. She needed to stay calm now.
She winced as he stopped walking and moved to stand behind her, and George let out a hiss as she could feel the point of something sharp, the cold metal poking through her shirt, and George knew Max was holding a knife to the small of her back, his insurance in case she tried anything funny by trying to escape again like she did earlier.
Bess let out a startled cry of pain as the other guy, whose name was Charlie, poked her hard in the back with his own knife.
"Please don't do this, man," she begged, biting her bottom lip in a pout. If it was begging he wanted that would get her and Burt out of this alive and unharmed, then she'd do whatever he wanted of her in order to make that happen. "Please…let us go…"
George winced as he without so much as a word to her cuffed her in a pair of metal handcuffs, the key in his jeans pocket along with that damned carton of cigarettes. She flinched, struggling against the restraints, but already, she knew it wouldn't do her any good.
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears as she craned her neck to look up at their destination.
The houses they had passed on the ride over here gave way to an empty barren road about a full twenty minutes ago, at least according to Burt, who was whispering it into the shell of her ear.
George forced her mind back to the present so she could stay alert.
The place had the curved roof, kind of like one of those aircraft hangers and the walls were made of a corrugated tin material.
The broken tarmac around was empty as he led the group inside, except for a forklift. George let out a scream as he roughly forced George into a chair and wrenched her already-bound hands behind her back and hogtied her to the chair with a length of rope.
"Wh—what are you doing, you creep?" she shouted, forgetting her fear for a moment. She struggled against her restraints and let out a scream as he pointed his gun at Nick's left leg and fired off a single shot, and George and Bess both screamed as a burst of crimson stained his jeans leg and he crumpled to the ground, his mouth open in a silent scream, his face scrunched up in pain as he threw his head to the ceiling.
"STOP FUCKING MOVING!" he bellowed.
"HEY!" George shouted. "Stop this! You're—you're killing him! Look, whatever you want with us, just let him go! You can—you can take me, but let Nick and Bess go!" she pleaded, no longer bothering to stop her tears. " He'll die if he doesn't get medical help. Please. I—I'll do whatever you want, but just save him," George sobbed.
She watched in a stunned silence as Max and Charlie hoisted Nick up by his arms and dragged him over to a chair in the corner, repeating the same process of tying him up.
"Thought you could fool us, kid," Charlie growled. "I don't fuckin' think so. We know you been throwing the boss on a false trail the last couple months. You got a thing for the Drew bitch or what? Why you fuckin' helping her? Boss saved your life, an' this is how you repay his kindness and fuckin' generosity? We're gonna let the boss decide what to deal with you, asshole." He growled and spat on him.
Charlie turned back to the girls. "Don't worry," he snapped, turning his head to George. "Just a flesh wound. He ain't gonna die," he growled darkly, spitting at Nick's feet. "Not yet anyways. We'll wait till the boss gets through with him. Then we'll decide," he growled.
"Oh, thank God," Bess breathed through her salty tears. "What do you want with us?" she demanded, still struggling against the rope tied securely around her waist, wishing he wouldn't have put her wrists in a pair of blue plastic zip ties.
Bess could already feel the skin of her wrists being rubbed raw, and unless she was imagining this next part, could feel the warm blood run over them, imagining the crimson garish red color against the white plastic zip ties. Gross.
She tried not to gag. Bess let out a yelp as Max moved to close the gap of space between them and backhanded her across her already bruised cheek, ignoring Burt's screams to stop this.
"Shut. Up." Max growled, turning the worst of his wrath back to the bound reporter in front of him. He knelt so he was at eye level with her, wanting to see the fear consume her in those big blue eyes of hers. "You keep up the attitude and don't do what we tell you, then I'm gonna have no choice but to cut you up into little pieces."
George swallowed hard as she nodded mutely and hung her head in defeat, allowing the dark bangs of her pixie cut to fall in front of her eyes, shielding her view from him.
Once again, her fear found her. It spoke to her in its wicked voice that sounded way too much like Todd Baines' voice for her to be happy with whatever was happening to her and Burt.
It told her legs to go numb and weak, her stomach to lurch, and her chest to ache.
Her mom once, she'd told George once when she was four or five years old, that there was nothing to fear but fear itself, but still, she couldn't silence its voice as Max cupped her chin in his gloved hand and tilted it sharply upwards.
He was forcing her to look at him, and he'd pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
"Let's give your best friend a call, won't we? Sooner she finds the boss's accounting book and brings it to him, then I'll let you all go, dollface. Maybe," he added meanly, his lips curling into a twisted sneer. "You play nice and play by my rules, then maybe you live. Your girlfriend gets what he asks for, then you and your friends are gonna be free."
George let out a whimper as he leaned in close, both of his hands on either side of the chair's armrest, the tip of his nose practically touching hers, and she could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his nose. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and pulled a face.
She clenched her eyes shut as Burt rattled off Nancy's cell phone number, put his cell phone on speaker and held it out in front of her.
"Remember, doll," Max growled, "don't do anything stupid like try to kick me. You tell Drew that if any cops get involved in this, you and Blondie are gonna be rewarded with a whole lotta pain for either one of you. Hell, maybe even both, sweetheart."
George nodded, blinking back briny tears, and letting out a shaking breath, willing herself to remain calm.
She could swear her heart was about to leap out of its cage, it was pounding so hard against her chest. She swallowed as she heard Nancy's voice answer as she picked up on the third ring.
"Hello? Who is this?" Nancy sounded exhausted and kind of freaked out.
"Hey, Nan," George whispered, trying her hardest to fight down the crack in her voice. "I—it's me," she began hesitantly, coughing once to clear her throat and fight against the frog in her throat. "I—I know it's late. Burt and Bess and Nick are with me, b—but I need you to find the accounting book of Thomas's. Right now."
A beat. A pause. And then… "It can't wait until morning when I clock in?" Nancy asked, sounding like she was stifling a yawn. "Where are you, anyways? Aren't you guys coming over for a movie after I get off in a half hour?"
"We…Nance, listen," pleaded George, and she could swear she could hear her friend's breaths catch in her throat as Nancy no doubt heard the desperation in her voice. "I really need you to use whatever resources you have. He—Thomas's guys have me and Bess."
George exchanged a quick glance with Burt, who had been seated across from her chair, no doubt another form of mental torture as he would be forced to helplessly watch whatever pain he inflicted on George and Bess, and glanced up towards Max as an awkward silence filled the room.
"Why?" It sounded like Nancy was frowning, and George could almost picture it.
"Nan?" Burt piped up; his voice louder than it usually was to ensure he was heard. "You need to find that book within the next hour or Max's going to fry us all."
There was a long pause. "George…" Nancy breathed. "Seriously?" She sounded panicked.
"Yeah. Seriously, you little bitch," Max growled, losing his patience. He snatched the phone away and held his close to his mouth to speak into the phone's speaker.
"George? Bess? Burt? W—was that really him?" Nancy wondered out loud, sounding ticked.
"You know it, whore," growled Max. "I'm the jerk that's gonna start breaking your friends' cute little manicured fingers if you don't start cooperating. Or maybe I'll cut out the girls' tongues, see how much you talk the big talk then with your friends hurt."
Max smiled, obviously enjoying the immense discomfort and tension in the room, only too happy to take over George's portion of the conversation with Nancy.
"You have one hour. Find the ledger, or I put a bullet in your friends' heads," he snarled, rolling his eyes, though he knew Nancy could not see it. "You bring me the book. No cops. Or your little girlfriends and the jock over here are gonna be my next victims on the news. Old warehouse on the corner of Westminster Avenue. White building. You'll know it, bitch."
George let out a whimper as his free hand not clutching the phone in his gloved hand came up to grip her shoulder, and it was that one little whimper that they all knew Nancy heard that was going to be enough to cause Nancy to act on the guy's threat.
"No," Nancy growled. "I swear if you so much as hurt them… "I'll…I'll do it. Just give me some time to find it, okay? I'll—I'll bring it just don't hurt Bess or George or Burt," she pleaded.
Max nodded, seemingly pleased with the outcome for the moment. "Good. I knew you'd see reason. No need for this to end in a bloodbath," he growled, ending the call with Nancy.
He speed-dialed his boss. "Hey, Boss. It's Max. I fuckin' got her dead to rights. She'll be here." George blinked once or twice and focused on Burt, choosing solely to focus on his face.
He seemed to be intently focusing on what their captor was saying to his boss into the phone. George furrowed her brows in a frown. Why did that matter?
They were being held captive here against their will, so what on earth would Burt do with the information, even if his brain retained it?
"Please just let us go," she whispered, her voice low as he hung up the phone.
"Oh, Georgie, you're such a comedian," Max almost seemed to sing as George stared silently, glaring at the man from where she sat hogtied to the chair. "I can't let you out until…" he reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, flicking it so the flame sparked to life. He paused and gave George an omniscient, almost knowing little smirk.
"Please…" she whimpered, trying one more time. Her gaze fell to her black bag which he had dumped at her feet, feeling grateful he hadn't gone through it again. Once was more than enough to make her feel violated.
If only he hadn't tied her legs to the chair, she could kick it. Maybe she had a pin or something she could pick at the ropes with, if only she could use her feet to kick, she might stand a chance of freeing herself and escaping with Burt.
George exhaled through her nose in frustration and fear. She watched in fear as the man stared at her silently, as if debating whether to threaten her with fire like last time, or something even worse. She nodded to herself, already knowing her punishment.
She felt tears welling and stinging in her eyes for what had to be like the third time in one night since they'd crossed paths with this creep. She met Burt's gaze and he froze.
Burt stared at George and felt an immense wave of cold wash over his body that had nothing to do with the frigid air conditioning in this stupid dump of a warehouse.
He glanced back up at George's face, which was way too white to be considered healthy, and she was already naturally pale on a good day, but now, with how ashen and clammy her face was, and the forming of dark circles underneath her eyes, it gave her a pallid look, like a zombie.
He watched as George bit her bottom lip in a slight pout and met his gaze. "D-don't cry. You're going to be okay. I won't let these jerks hurt you, girls. I—I promise"
But George clenched her eyes shut and shook her head no, and that was when Burt realized that she wasn't worried for herself.
Well, she was, but he knew she worried for him. If George put herself in danger by walking the streets of downtown alone after dark when it wasn't safe for her to be out, well, she could have lived with that, he knew.
But the fact that Burt had been with her at time, made her guilt come that much worse and even more intense than she would have thought possible.
"It's gonna to be okay," Burt breathed, but he knew even as he said the words and George and Bess blearily lifted their chins to meet his gaze, that they were both having trouble believing Burt's reassuring words that were meant to bring some small form of comfort.
They weren't okay. They weren't anywhere near okay.
It was up to Nancy now.