Jareth was walking Sarah back to her car. As much as he enjoyed her company, he didn't want to wear out his welcome. No need to overwhelm her; with this new promise of friendship it seemed they could have all the time in the world. Smiling to himself as he thought on this, he reached out and opened the door for her. She half-climbed in, one leg on the ground and one on the floorboard, when her cell phone rang.
"Hello?" she answered. Jareth couldn't hear what was being said, but Sarah suddenly paled and slumped into her car seat, one hand grasping the edge of the door in a death-grip. "When?" she asked. "I'll be right there." He saw the panic in her eyes, and just as quickly, as if a door had slammed shut, he saw it replaced with stony determination. She emanated a cold rage that made him incredibly grateful she had decided to be his friend. Without his having to ask, she looked up at him and said, "Toby's gone."
He got in the passenger's side and they peeled out of the parking lot.
Driving into the school parking lot was horribly reminiscent of the night her parents died. Three police cruisers sat in the lot with their lights flashing. Mrs. Griffin was talking animatedly to an officer who seemed to be jotting notes. When she saw Sarah she ran over and gave her a hug. Sarah felt wet on her neck when she pulled away.
"Ms. Williams," the officer with the note pad said as he walked over, "I've got some questions for you."
The next half hour was interminable. All Sarah could think of was getting on the road, hunting over every street and alley until she found her brother again. Officer Jordan told her what they knew and then asked questions about Toby's distinguishing features. She was vaguely aware of answering them, of Jareth's hand braced against her back, offering her support. She did everything in a daze until Officer Jordan asked, "Have there been any stranger men hanging around lately? Notice anyone you don't recognize spending time in your neighborhood?" Suddenly Richard Jones' face illuminated under her porch light sprung to mind. It was all so clear.
"That son of a bitch." she growled. At the officer's surprised expression she began explaining Richard Jones III.
* * *
As Sarah was giving his name to the police, Richard Jones was traveling down the Interstate two cars behind a maroon Taurus. He had noticed the man carrying a familiar blond head and placing it in the car a block up from where he usually parked, a safe distance from Toby's school. Without hesitation he began following the man, not sure of what, if anything, he could do, but determined not to screw up twice.
* * *
The boy will wake up soon. Should I drug him again? No, no too soon. He will be good. He must be good. I know he will be, else I would not have chosen him. He will understand. He will miss her at first; he is, after all, only a child, but then he will understand.
The man piloted the car with ease down the Interstate. It would take at least four days to reach their destination, but he was not worried. No one had seen them leave, no one could identify him. The boy would be saved, offering him his own redemption. It had taken over a year to find the right candidate, the right one to save. One who was deserving. But he was down to the last four days, and then all the waiting would be over. Smiling, he reached over and ruffled the blond head laying in the passenger seat. A horn blasted and a black truck with three guys sped by, giving him the finger before weaving back through traffic. He frowned, began to accelerate, then though better of it. This was, after all, the very thing he was looking to escape, and to release the boy from.
"People are animals. All of them, a filthy, stinking cesspool." he muttered. "We'll be through with them yet." He knew the boy wouldn't wake up for awhile longer, but he enjoyed addressing him. He had imagined it for weeks now, seeing the blue eyes glow with understanding of what he was trying to do. He saw himself mentoring the child in the brief time they had together. He could wait for him to wake up. In the meantime he continued talking, certain that the boy could, on some level, understand him.
"I know what you've gone through. But that is what makes you the perfect candidate. You have experienced pain, loss, tragedy. You are not naïve to the real world, and yet you have retained your innocence. Innocence in children is easy to come by, that was my lesson to learn. I had to wait for someone who had gone through fire. You have been tested, you see? And you have survived." The words sounded good spoken aloud. He had rehearsed them in his head a dozen times or more for this meeting; now speaking them aloud gave them a tangibility. He was doing the right thing.
