At the Pearson Mansion, Victor was in his study, engrossed in some paperwork. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed six o'clock, startling him out of his work.
"Vaughn should be here by now." He checked both the dining room and Vaughn's room and was surprised to find no one there. Victor sighed in annoyance as he dialed Ted's cell phone number.
No answer. "Maybe Vaughn's practice ran late." Ted should still have his cell phone on though. Victor sat back down at his desk and picked up the paperwork again.
Vaughn's head was reeling. He was trying desperately to organize his thoughts, but they kept whirling in a mad jumble. Nothing made sense. He couldn't see and he could barely think.
The carpeting on the van floor was rough against his cheek. He could hear the hum of the engine and feel heat coming through the floor. He forced himself to focus on one thought at a time.
He had been kidnapped. Ted was in on it. He had led him right to them. How could Ted do that? Vaughn had known him for over a year. True, he didn't know him very well, but he was always polite, and he and Vaughn sometimes talked sports together. "How could he do something like this? Why would anyone want to do this to me?" It didn't make sense.
Tied up and unable to see, time and direction began to lose their meaning. They drove for a long time, at least an hour Vaughn estimated, when the van pulled over to the side of the road. Vaughn heard the driver's side door open. He was alone with the tattoed man.
His arms were starting to ache from the uncomfortable position they were in. He could feel a lump on his forehead where it had hit the doorframe.
Vaughn realized they must be out in the country, for he could hear no traffic sounds, people, machinery; none of the sounds of a populated area. The silence was eerie. Vaughn jumped when it was broken by two gunshots, very close by.
Above him, the tattooed man chuckled. "Dumb kid," he muttered.
Now that the initial shock had worn off, curiosity had begun to creep in. Vaughn cautiously raised his head and dared to break the silence.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaky.
No response. Vaughn spoke a little louder.
"Who are you? Where are we going? What just happened?"
"Shut up, kid," the man sitting above him growled. Vaughn winced as his question was answered by a sharp kick in the ribs. He resigned himself to silence after that.
He heard the van doors slam again, and they were moving.
"Guess he was working for free," the man above him said. "What about the car and the body?"
"They're both back in the woods," the driver answered. "We'll be long gone before anybody finds them."
"The body? What body?" Vaughn felt sick to his stomach as he realized it was Ted's body. They killed him. Ted was dead. These men were killers. They killed Ted, and they might kill him too. Vaughn began to tremble and could not stop.
It wasn't surprising that Victor didn't hear the clock chime seven, or seven-thirty. He had learned long ago that hard work and dedication always pay off; therefore, he always devoted himself fully to whatever project he was working on. It took the jangle of the telephone to make him look up from his paperwork. It was nearly eight o'clock. He realized with a start that Ted had never returned with Vaughn.
"That's probably him now," Victor thought as the phone rang again. "Hello?"
"Hello, Victor," said the male voice on the other end of the line. "It's been a long time." The voice was unfamiliar, almost growling at him.
"And you are...?"
"You'll find that out soon enough. Are you wondering where your son is?"
Victor felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. "What are you talking about?" he asked, dreading the answer.
"Your son, Vaughn. I have him."
Victor felt his breath catch in his throat. "If this is some kind of joke-"
"I assure you, this is no joke," the menacing voice cut him off. "I have your son. If you want him back, wait by your phone for further instructions. Do not call the police or I will kill him."
Victor felt light-headed, as if all the blood had drained from his head. He realized he had stopped breathing and forced himself to take a deep breath in. "Let me talk to him," he said when he could finally speak again.
"Wait by your phone for instructions. I will call again soon. Do NOT call the police or I WILL know and I WILL kill Vaughn." There was a click, then the dial tone sounded.
"Wait!" But it was too late. He was gone.
Victor immediately called Blake Holsey High. "Let me speak to Vaughn, now," he demanded, hoping against hope that this was indeed some kind of joke, some horrible mistake.
"Why, Vaughn had my permission to leave after his football practice, Mr. Pearson," Principal Durst explained. "I saw him get into the car with your driver."
"And you're certain he didn't come back to the school?"
"No...but I just took roll at dinner. He wasn't there."
"Well go look for him!" Victor snapped. "Check his room, the gym, everywhere. I'll wait."
She was gone for about ten minutes, though it felt like hours to Victor. He heard the doorbell ring and rushed to answer it. He couldn't hide the look of disappointment when he saw his attorney, Frank Miller, standing there instead of his son. Victor motioned him inside and ran back to the phone.
Horrible scenarios kept trying to make their way through his mind. He forced himself to focus on the phone, and how any minute now Vaughn would pick up the phone and sheepishly explain that he forgot he was supposed to come over tonight...
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pearson." It was not Vaughn's voice, but the principal again. "He's not here."
Victor dejectedly let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.
"Is everything all right?" she asked.
"Everything's fine," he lied. "Goodnight." He hung up the phone and looked around his office. He listened hard for reassuring sounds like Vaughn's footsteps as he ran up the stairs, his stereo playing too loud, his voice talking on the phone.
The house had never been so quiet. Vaughn was gone.
"You look upset," Frank Miller commented as he entered Victor's study. Victor was staring at the phone blankly, as if trying to will it to ring.
"It's Vaughn. I think he's been…kidnapped." Victor had to force the words out of his mouth. His brain seemed to think that if he didn't speak them aloud, the situation wouldn't be real.
Frank's eyes grew wide. "Kidnapped? When? How?"
Quickly Victor outlined Vaughn's failure to show up for dinner, the cryptic phone call, and his conversation with Principal Durst.
"Have you actually gone to the school to see if he's there?"
"No…I just got the call a few minutes ago."
"And you didn't call the police?"
"Not yet. I just…I don't know what to do."
Inwardly, Victor chided himself. He was used to being the one in charge, in control of everything and everyone around him. Now, someone else had that power over him. They were in complete control. It both infuriated and terrified him. He didn't know what to do. He did know that he needed help, which is why was glad to see Frank Miller. As his lawyer, Miller was his best advisor and closest confidant in both business and personal matters.
"This is ridiculous. I should call the police. I should've called them right away," Victor said, reaching for the phone.
"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Frank said quickly.
Victor raised his eyebrows.
"Well, you heard what they said," Frank answered the silent question. "I know it's almost a cliche, but do you really want to take that chance that they would hurt Vaughn?"
Victor stared hard at the phone. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.
"No...no, I don't."
"Maybe you should wait and see what they want first."
Victor glared at him. "You want me to just sit here, and do nothing, while my son is missing?"
"What can you do?" Frank asked. "Do you have any idea who might have done this? Or where they might be?"
Victor shook his head. "I can't imagine anyone…doing something like this. I can't believe it's really happening. He sank weakly into his chair and looked his friend in the eye. "You know I hate waiting."
Frank gave a weak smile. "I know. But right now, you don't have much choice."
Victor's eyes narrowed. "I hate that, too."
"Your other senses really do kick in when you lose one," Vaughn thought as he was led across the driveway. The van had finally stopped moving. He could feel the cool night air on his face. The crunch of gravel seemed loud, and he could feel it pressing against the soles of his shoes. He heard a door open, and the air changed. It was warmer, and a bit musty. There were inside.
They walked forward a bit, then turned left. Vaughn's shoulder brushed up against the edge of the doorway as they entered a new room. The strong man pushed him up onto a rough bunk against the wall, then tied his feet together. Vaughn heard the door slam shut, then the scraping of metal, like a deadbolt lock being closed. Then, silence.
Vaughn scooted forward as far as he could until he bumped the wall, then cautiously felt his way to the outer edge. There was only a few feet of space until the edge of the bunk. Trying to escape crossed his mind, but it seemed impossible with his eyes covered and hands and feet tied. He was trapped, alone and in the dark.
It was bizarre to think that just a few hours ago he was going to class, playing football, and living his normal life. Everything was scheduled and orderly. Now everything had changed, and the uncertainty was terrifying.
"I can't believe this is happening."
Now that he was by himself, and it was quiet, loneliness like he had never known swept over him. He thought about Blake Holsey High, his room there, and his friends. What were they doing right now? What was Josie doing right now? Did any of them miss him? Probably not yet; he hadn't been gone very long, though it felt like an eternity. Would they miss him tomorrow when he wasn't in school?
"Will I ever go to school again?" What about Josie? "What if I never see her again? Would she miss me?"
He thought about the Pearson Mansion, and his father. Sometimes, the school felt more like home than his own house. Surely his father had missed him by now, when he hadn't shown up for dinner. The kidnappers would probably ask him for money to get Vaughn back. What if he wouldn't pay? His father usually seemed to regard Vaughn as a nuisance, and a disappointment. Maybe he didn't want him back.
"Stop it," Vaughn told himself firmly. Of course his father would pay. He was probably going crazy with worry right now.
"Unless he's in a meeting."
Vaughn felt a lump rise in his throat. He tried to swallow it back, but a few tears escaped, wetting the blindfold in front of his eyes. Despite the uncomfortable position he was in, confusion and fear took their toll, and he eventually dropped off to sleep.