After Cheyenne, Kasey, and Elizabeth stopped off for a quick dinner at Elizabeth's favorite restaurant that evening, they headed to Target to let Elizabeth pick out a movie on account of her getting a star sticker on her folder for helping the teacher.
"You can pick out any movie you want," Cheyenne told her when they arrived at their destination. Elizabeth looked at the rows of movies taller than she was and began at one end, working her way down.
While she was looking, Cheyenne's phone rang. She pried it out of Kasey's hands and gave him her keys to play with before answering.
"Hello?"
"Cheyenne! Thank God!"
"Barbra Jean? What's wrong?"
"Darryl's run off with Henry and I can't get a hold of anyone."
"What? What happened? Did you call the police?"
"No. Should I?" Her voice was laced with panic. "Is it a kidnapping? I mean, he is Henry's step-father."
"Well, what happened? Did you two have a fight?"
"No. He came home drunk and just took him. He didn't say where they were going or anything and he won't answer his phone."
Cheyenne glanced at Elizabeth who was crouching down to see the bottom row of movies.
"How long has he been gone?"
"An hour and a half."
Cheyenne's heart was starting to race as she thought about how she would feel if someone took off with Elizabeth or Kasey.
"Call the police," She said. "Tell them what you told me. I'll try to reach Mom and Dad."
"Okay. Thank you, Cheyenne."
They hung up and Cheyenne dialed her mom's number.
"Elizabeth, we need to hurry, okay? Pick a movie and let's go."
Reba and Brock were sitting on the couch, making out like a couple of teenagers when the phone rang for the thousandth time.
"Shut it off," Brock said against her mouth.
Reba reached into her pocket, answered, hung up, then placed it on the coffee table, all without pulling away from her husband.
A second later, it rang again. This time, Reba angrily pulled away from Brock with a small pop an picked up the phone.
"What?" She answered, irritated.
Brock sat back and sighed with his arms folded, watching Reba talk.
"Cheyenne, calm down," Reba was saying. "I can't understand you." She nodded then went silent.
"What's wrong?" Brock asked, leaning forward.
Reba looked at him. "Darryl took Henry."
Cheyenne got off the phone with her mom and thought about what to do next. There wasn't much she could do in Texas when Barbra Jean was in Arkansas, but the same thing was rolling through her mind that was rolling through everyone else's: Barbra Jean shouldn't have married a complete stranger because stuff like this happens.
She realized she better call Van and let him in on the latest occurrences. She dialed his cell and hurried Elizabeth along once more.
"Hello?" A woman answered.
"Who is this?" Cheyenne asked.
"Rose Veometri. Who are you?"
"Cheyenne Montgomery."
"Oh, Van's wife! I'm his assistant."
"I didn't know he had an assistant..."
"I'm fairly new."
"Well, anyway. Can I talk to him?"
"Uh...he's busy."
Cheyenne made a face and said, "It's an emergency."
"He's really busy."
"Let me speak to my husband."
"Fine. But make it quick."
A moment later, Cheyenne heard Van's voice. "Hello?"
"We'll talk about your rude little assistant later, but right now, there's an emergency."
"What happened? Are you and the kids okay?"
"We're fine. It's Henry. Darryl kidnapped him and Barbra Jean's freaking out."
"Who's Darryl?"
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. When Van was working, his mind didn't think about anything other than what he was doing.
"Barbra Jean's husband. They've been gone for an hour and a half. Actually, it's probably closer to two hours now."
"How does that make it a kidnapping? Isn't he the kid's step-dad? And how come no one's met this Darryl guy?"
"Barbra Jean said he was drunk. She said he just up and took him."
"Man... What's she gonna do? Does your dad know?"
"Yeah. I just called him and Mom. I'm still waiting to hear back from Barbra Jean."
"Right. Well, keep me updated."
"I will. I love you."
"Love you, too. Be home at nine. Bye."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Nine?"
"I'm putting in a lot over overtime. I have to kiss up. They're laying people off."
"Oh. Okay... Nine."
"Yeah."
"Alright. Bye, then."
"Bye."
She hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket. That's when an odd thought struck her: why in the world was Van's assistant answering his personal phone?
"Brock, talk to me." Reba begged as Brock laid on their bed, staring at the wall. He didn't talk, didn't move, didn't cry. Nothing. He just laid there.
"I don't know what to say," He told her after a few minutes, sighing heavily.
Reba was scared just as much as he was, even though he'd never admit that he was. She wished she could tell him she knew how he felt, but she didn't.
"Tell me how you feel," She told him, laying down beside him. She ran her fingers through his hair and waited for his response.
"I can't explain how I feel."
Reba scooted closer to him, running her touch from his hair down his arm. She could see the goosebumps she gave him. "Brock, Henry's gonna be just fine. I bet he's not evens scared."
"I just knew that sonofabitch was no good. When I went down there to get Henry, there was just something about him. If he was standing in front of me, I'd kill him."
Reba's stomach lurched. "Brock, don't talk like that. Now, I know you're upset, but don't let stuff like that enter your mind. You don't want to get all worked up and do something you'll regret."
"Reba, I get that you're just trying to make me feel better, but I don't need a life lesson right now. My son was kidnapped. You don't know how it feels to know that something like that happened and you can't do a damn thing about it."
"Brock, I understand-"
"No, you don't." He shifted to make her sit up. When she did, he said, "I just want to be alone."
Silently, Reba got up and left the room. She shut the door and stood in the hallway, not knowing where else to go.
Sliding to the floor beside the door, she brought her knees up to her chest. Thinking rationally, she knew she probably should have let Brock's comment go, but there was something so sinister about the way he said it. It really did worry her. Brock didn't get mad often, but when he did, you had better run for cover.
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