KIDNAPPED
by Robert Lawndale Stalkinson
Chapter 1
Daria Morgendorffer walked along the quiet, shady sidewalk, having quiet second thoughts about this babysitting gig. She was more than a little surprised that the Guptys would even consider hiring her again. Mrs. Gupty had called for Quinn, but Quinn was out somewhere with the fashion nazis. Mrs. Gupty had made the mistake of repeating her name, and in the background Daria had heard the "little monsters" begin to chant "we want Daria!" Mrs. Gupty had hesitated, but, for whatever reason, had asked her to babysit, and Daria, for whatever reason, had agreed. But now, as she turned off Briarpatch Road onto Bug Tussle Lane, she winced. The closer she got to her destination, the more everything seemed to reek of cutesie-poo. Daria took off her glasses and held them in her hand as she walked. It helped some.
Why had she agreed, she wondered as she walked along. The Guptys paid well, but she didn't really need the money. Something in Mrs. Gupty's tone told Daria that Mrs. Gupty was at the end of her babysitter list, but this didn't exactly call forth a gush of sympathy from her. Maybe it was that Tad and Tricia seemed to want her. I don't have such a huge fan club that I can go blowing them off, she thought wryly. Geez, I'm such a pushover.
As she crossed onto the block the Guptys lived on, Daria looked ahead. Two small fuzzy figures were doing something in the front yard of the Gupty house. Daria put on her glasses. Tricia and Tad were playing some tag-like game. Careful. Don't fall on the lawn decorations and kill yourselves, she thought.
A van slowed to a stop in front of the Gupty house and a man leaned out the driver's window. Tricia and Tad stopped what they were doing and seemed to be listening. Tricia pointed down the street in the direction the van had come from. Must be someone they know, Daria thought. Gupty kids would never talk to a stranger. The man seemed to say something else, and Tricia took a couple of steps closer and seemed to answer, pointing again. Tad came up behind Tricia.
Suddenly the door flew open, the man leaped out, grabbed both children, heaved them into the van, got back in himself, and accelerated away. Astonished, Daria nevertheless had the presence of mind to memorize the van's plate number and what she could of a description of driver and vehicle. As the van sped by, she saw little Tad's frightened face at a window, mouthing what she was sure was her name.
Horrified, Daria watched as the van sped off down the street. Then she turned and sprinted to the Guptys' house.
The door flew open in response to her frantic pounding. "What on earth..."
"The children have been kidnapped!" Call the police!" Daria shouted between gasps.
Mrs.Gupty pushed past her out into the front yard, followed by Mr. Gupty. Frantic shouts of "Tricia!" and "Tad!" brought no more response than did Daria's repeated statements of the facts. Finally, though, sense overcame panic and they listened to her story.
"My babies, my babies! What are we going to do?" wailed Mrs. Gupty.
"We'll call the police, we'll call Amber Alert, we'll call the FBI, we'll call... we'll call the milk carton people!" Mr. Gupty said.
"Call 911 first! Daria said, half-shoving them back toward their open front door.
"Yes! Call 911!" Mrs. Gupty agreed as they headed for the house.
Mr. Gupty stopped suddenly. "Wait! There's a piece of paper in the yard!" He spun around and headed back toward the street, with Mrs. Gupty right behind him.
"What! I can't believe..." Daria started to exclaim, but cut herself off. They're irrational. They're distraught. Calling them names won't help, she told herself. The obsessive-compulsive twits... She started back to where they were poring over the piece of trash they'd picked up, just as they came charging back toward the house.
Mrs. Gupty handed Daria the piece of paper as Mr. Gupty hurried inside. "We're not really crazy, Daria," she said, "There's never any trash in our yard."
Daria looked at the paper. It had come, she saw, from an inkjet printer. It read: "Don't call the police, or anyone else. I'll know and I'll kill them. Stand by the phone. It won't be long."
Clutching the paper, Daria hurried into the house after Mrs. Gupty.
…
Mr. And Mrs. Gupty paced back and forth across their tasteless but immaculate living room like caged animals, each glancing at the telephone on the coffee table at least once every three seconds. Daria stood in the corner by the front door to avoid being trampled.
As her gaze roamed restlessly about the lethally kitschy room, Daria noticed that, while it was indeed immaculate, it was somewhat cluttered today. A wastebasket full of torn-open envelopes stood beside a work table that had been set up against one wall. On the table was an adding machine that trailed a long paper tape covered with figures, and two bank deposit bags full of what might well be money or checks or both. It looked as though the Guptys had just finished adding up the proceeds of some activity or other, and were about to take those proceeds down to the bank.
Something Mr. Gupty said about calling the police on his cell phone brought her attention back to the immediate situation.
"But what if he calls your cell phone number?" Mrs. Gupty asked.
"That's hardly likely. How is a stranger going to know my cell phone number?"
"Excuse me, but I don't think he's a stranger," Daria said.
"What? Not a stranger? Why do you say that?"
"You taught Tad and Tricia not to talk to strangers, didn't you?"
"Of course. All the tricks a kidnapper might use, and how to avoid them."
"They talked to this guy. Approached his van like they recognized him. He was also pretty sure that you'd notice a piece of paper in your yard and pick it up immediately."
"Hey, you're right! Good thinking, Daria!"
"I'll tell you something else. He's working alone."
"Really? How do you know that?"
"If there were more than one, there'd have been at least two in the van, a driver and a snatcher. Three would've been better. If this guy hadn't been familiar and very fast, the kids would have gotten away."
Mrs. Gupty began to cry again, and Mr. Gupty enfolded her in a hug. After a minute he said, "That's good reasoning, Daria. Very fast, you say?"
"The cliché phrase "quick as a cat" comes to mind."
"Can you describe him?"
"I was down at the end of the block. Thin, medium height, light short hair, khaki pants, light blue shirt, that's about all I could make out."
"Hmm. Do you think you could rec-"
Mr' Gupty's question was interrupted by a phone ringing. The Guptys almost hurt themselves in their haste to grab it. "Hello, hello!" Mr. Gupty blurted after Mrs. Gupty relinquished her hold, then he stared at it in anger and puzzlement.
The ring came again, and he dropped the handset he held and snatched his cell phone off his belt. "Hello!" He cried as soon as he got it open.
"The money you collected last night. Put it in a small plain suitcase. Give it to Daria. Give her your white Volvo and this phone. Tell her if she's not here in five minutes, the little monsters die," said the voice on the phone.
"What? Where? If she's not where?" Mr. Gupty shouted.
"I'll tell Daria where. Give her the phone and get a suitcase."
When Daria heard Mr. Gupty say "If she's not where?" she started to get a bad feeling. When he handed her the phone and ran out of the room, she felt like a five-pound ice cube had suddenly materialized in her stomach. Hesitantly, she held it to her ear. "Talk to me, Daria," said a voice that made her think of snakes.
"H- hello?"
"Hello, Daria. Tad and Tricia tell me you're going to save them from me. Isn't that sweet? Well, I'm going to give you a chance to do just that. As soon as the Guptys give you my suitcase of money, you're going to get in their car and bring it to me. Do you understand?"
"Bring it where? Where are you?"
"All in good time. I'll tell you that when you're out of their driveway. Do you have the suitcase yet?"
"Uh, not- wait, here it comes."
Mr. Gupty reappeared with a small blue hardside suitcase, threw it on the work table, opened it, and grabbed one of the heavy vinyl bank deposit bags. "Help me get the money in here, Emily," he said.
Mrs. Gupty seized the other bag and zipped it open, and they both tried to dump the bags' contents into the suitcase, but the bundles of bills didn't want to pour out of the zippered openings. They began transferring them by hand as fast as they could. "Does he want the checks, too?" Mrs. Gupty asked.
"Do you want the checks too?" Daria relayed.
"Huh? Uh, no. No, I don't want to fool with any damn checks," said the man on the phone. "Tell them to hurry up! Uh, we don't have all day! Neither do these kids!"
"He says no checks, and hurry," Daria said. Yep, he's definitely alone, she thought. That 'we' was too late, and too lame.
Mr. Gupty took the phone from Daria. "The money's in the suitcase. Let me speak to Tricia." He waited a few seconds, and Daria faintly heard Tricia's voice from the phone. "Tricia, be brave, honey, it'll be all right. We'll get you back! Tricia?"
Mr. Gupty fell silent, his expression turning to anger as he listened to the kidnapper. "How do I know you're going to let our children go?" he demanded. Daria couldn't make out the kidnapper's reply, but she could tell Mr. Gupty didn't like it. "No! Absolutely not! I can't put her life at risk by asking her to participate in this! I'll bring you the money myself!"
Expressions of anger, fear, and hatred flickered across Mr. Gupty's face as he listened to the kidnapper's reply. Daria couldn't hear it, but she didn't need to. She knew he was insisting that Daria make the delivery, and she knew he was threatening to kill the children and disappear if his orders weren't followed to the letter. That's what kidnappers did. The ice cube in Daria's stomach seemed to grow bigger and colder.
The cell phone sagged away from Mr. Gupty's ear, and he turned an anguished look on Daria. In response, she held out a hand. "It's okay," she said. "I want to help." I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought.
Mr. Gupty handed her the cell phone with an expression like he was handing her a cobra. He closed the suitcase, which Daria noted was less than half full, hoisted it, and headed for the door. Daria and Mrs. Gupty followed.
As she came outside, Daria heard noise from the phone and put it to her ear. "Hey! What are you doing? Talk to me!" The kidnapper demanded.
"We're at the car. Mr. Gupty's putting the suitcase inside," she said.
"You people better move a lot faster if you ever want to see these kids alive again! Get those keys and get on the road," he snarled.
"He says I've got to hurry," Daria told Mr. Gupty. "Give me the keys."
Mr. Gupty handed her the keys, and Daria slid behind the wheel of the new Volvo station wagon. "How do you move the seat forward?" she asked, and he showed her. She had to put the phone down to operate the seat controls. Then she closed the door, lowered the driver's side window, and started the engine. When she picked up the phone again, the kidnapper was demanding to know what was going on.
"I'm in the car. I'm adjusting the seat." Daria held the phone far enough away from her ear that the Guptys could probably hear it.
"You're stalling, you little bitch! I told you what would happen if you're not here in five minutes!" the kidnapper shouted. Daria could tell by the Guptys' reactions that they had indeed heard it.
"Hey, don't pressure me! I'm not a great driver in the best of conditions. I'm quite short, you know, and I just got my license. Now, I'm at the end of the driveway. Which way do I turn?" Daria said. Mr. and Mrs.Gupty, who could see that Daria hadn't taken the car out of park yet, looked puzzled. Daria put a finger to her lips, leaned closer to them, and held the phone out a little farther.
"Head toward Old Fishkill Road," came from the phone. Daria winked at Mr. Gupty, slipped the transmission quietly into reverse, and rolled down the driveway into the street. Mr. Gupty gave her a grin and a thumbs-up sign. Mrs. Gupty seemed to be praying.