Jace POV
It's been 8 weeks since Clary's disappearance and the cops are still no closer to finding her. The only fingerprints on the letter where her own, the person who made her write the letter must have worn gloves. As of yet they haven't put anything on the news about her. Even though we all begged them to, but with the letter she supposedly wrote me when she was first abducted their captain doesn't want to waste resources if she has just simply run away.
No matter how many times I tell them that she wouldn't do something like that and that she didn't write the letter, it falls on deaf ears.
I spend every day out searching for Clary in the hopes that I can spot her somewhere. But so far, she's not anywhere I have checked. No one has seen her or anyone who looks remotely like her. The thought that they could be lying always passes through my brain. But what would the point be, then I let the thought go.
I get home after a long day, shower using Clary's shampoo and body wash, then climb into her bed, holding her pillow to me.
The smell of her left the pillow about a week ago but I can't bring myself not to hold it.
Everyday, my mom, Jocelyn, Luke and all out friends try talking to me. All I ask is if they found Clary yet and none of them can give me the answer I desperately need and want to hear.
I need her found. I need my children safe. I need my future in my arms. 14 ears of my life have been spent with her by my side. I physically can not function with out her. I need her home.
"Jace!" I hear my mother screech from down stairs. I'm on my feet and down the stairs before my mind even realises what my feet are doing.
"Mom, what's wrong, mom?" I run to the door where she is holding another white envelope with my name written on it in Clary's cursive writing.
"Mom I can't touch it now you have it in your hands, so I need you to open it and put it on the kitchen counter." She nods her head and I follow her into the kitchen where she slowly places the letter down with a few different spice containers holding it open.
'Dear Jonathan Christopher.'
The letter starts. Straight away I know she was forced to write this letter. She never calls me my fall name. The only people who call me that are my mother's parents, who are now so busy living their life on their retirement cruise, that I don't see them. The only other person is my father, who has now decided to make an appearance every so often.
'I know that you are still looking for me, but you have to give up. You know that you're no longer going to be a father! I love you and am doing this, so you can be a professional footballer like we both know you want to be. Please stop looking for me. I know that you are asking people about me. So please Stop Here. _ _ _ Clarissa'
She dots her name with a heart. Why would she put capitals in the middle of a sentence? She hates incorrect grammar. But she has a capital S and H with three dashes after it.
"Jace what does she mean 'stop looking'? And about you being a professional footballer you don't even play anymore. You haven't for a while either?" She looks at the letter again. There has to be some clue to who has her.
"S and H, three dashes and football?" I question out loud. "S H three dashes football. S H three dashes football. How are all these things linked? Wait! Three dashes. There are three clues. Okay. So, one clue is S and H. Another clue is football. What's the third clue?"
I spend another ten minutes looking at the letter. 'If you don't understand something say it out loud.' I remember Clary telling me when we used to play games like this as a child. How could I have forgotten the game.
"Dear Jonathan Christopher… Jonathan Christopher that's the third clue!" I exclaim.
"Okay, so what do they have in common?" My mother asks, making me jump. I had forgotten that she was here. We stare at the letter again.
"Dad!" I shout at the top of my voice as soon as I realise. "He's the only one, other than Ma and Pa, who calls me Jonathan Christopher. He is the only one who wants me to play professional football. And his initials are S H Stephen Herondale. It was Dad. He took her!"
"Your father? Why would he do such a thing?" she questions. Are you sure that's how all the clues are linked together?"
"It has to be mom. He didn't care that he lost you and me when we told you about the babies. He didn't care when Valentine called him. He had no reaction to you wanting a divorce. So why is he here now. Now that Clary is missing, and we keep getting letters that are suspicious. Remember the first letter, she called herself Clarissa, she hates her full name. She kept saying child not children. Dad keeps saying that I'm better off without her and the child. That it's better for both of us now that she's missing. I'm telling you mom, dads responsible for Clary's disappearance. And I am going to go to the police and tell them everything as well."
Stephens POV.
She wrote the letter and I checked it over for any hint that she's leaving clues for my son. After reading it she seals it in a plain envelope and I put it in my pocket.
"Okay Clarissa, this will now be your home until you want to come back. But remember if you come back, don't bring the child with you Secondly," I reach for the case behind me. "as promised $10,000 to get you sorted here or elsewhere. After this letter Jace should finally stop looking for you. The police already think that this is a case of a scared pregnant teenager who ran away. Jace is going to get over you. He will become a famous footballer, just like he always wanted."
"Okay Stephen." She says all the light has left her eyes. Just like I wanted. She needs to leave my son alone and let him get on with his life.
I get up drop the keys to the house on the table.
"Oh, and just in case you didn't realise, I'm not coming back and again you are not to come back until after the child has been born and you have gotten rid of it." With that I slam the door and walk away with my head held high. Today has been a good day. Clary is finally gone and Jace will know about it by this time next week.
*one week later*
I posted the letter to the door two hours ago and that has left me feeling euphoric. Knowing that I'll finally get my dream of my son playing in the big league has put a smile on my face that I just can't shake.
A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts of Jace in his New York Jets uniform. Quickly I make my way to the door I unlock it to come face to face with two uniformed police officers. "Stephen Herondale?" the biggest one asks.
"Yes, what can I do for you two fine fellows on this brilliant afternoon?" I reply smiling back at them. Their faces look grim causing my smile to lesson some.
"Stephen Herondale, I'm arresting you on the suspicion of the kidnapping of Clarissa Fray. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the tight to an attorney if you can't afford one, one will be provided by the state."
"What! I don't understand. I never kidnapped her. Why would I? She is carrying my grandchild?" I say as cop number one slowly puts his handcuffs on me.
"That's where you're wrong dad. She's carrying your grandchildren, as in she's having two. She is 29 weeks pregnant and you've put her under so much stress she could go into early labour at any time and no one would know. Now tell me where you are keeping my family, so I can bring her home!"
Jace shouts in my face. Twins how did I not know. "how did you figure out it was me? I made sure she left no clues on those damn notes."
"You seem to forget daddy dearest that Clary and I have been best friends for 14 years. We know everything about each other. Just like she knows the only people who call me Jonathan Christopher are you and Ma and Pa. You're the only one who wants me to be a footballer. You are the only one who didn't know she was carrying twins! All these were mentioned in the letters all pointing to you! So now tell me where she is!"
She out smarted me. What a brilliant woman. I laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. All the way to the back of the police var.
"Where is she!" he screams at me just before I get into the car.
"That's what's so funny. You'll never know where she is. And she will never know that she can come home! Your both shit out of luck!" and with that they push my head into the police car and slam the door.
"Don't worry son, we'll find a way to get this guy to tell us where your girlfriend is and bring her some for you." He promises.
Hearing the cop say this has me laughing again. I laugh all the way to the precinct where I'm booked in, still laughing, and thrown in a cell. "You won't find her!" I shout and lay on the bed provided, glad that before I got here that I caused some havoc.
Now the fun begins. Questions that I wont answer whilst they try to break me. But what they don't realise is that I'm already broken.
And here comes the laughing again.
.o.0.O.0.o.
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