Chapter 9- Voices and Texts

By the next morning I am bored out of my mind. The shade of sunlight coming through the windows appears to be early morning. Worry for my dads had kept me from sleeping much, even though the bed was relatively comfortable. Even if I could get a message of some sort to them, it would be okay, I thought. Just something to let them know I am alive and unhurt.

I know Papa is probably miserable, but its Daddy I am most concerned for. I haven't really spoken to him much about the time Papa was gone; really he had been forced into faking his own death, something I had gleaned from Daddy's notebook. I know that time is a mixed blessing for them both: it produced me, saved Daddy's life and taught Papa that sentiment is really not a burden. The time apart gave them the strength they both needed to admit to each other how they felt.

Daddy has never spoken to me (and sometimes I wonder if Papa even knows) about the bleak despair nor of the way he felt like a machine going about endless days. I know he finally went back to work, since he had been on his way to the surgery the day he discovered me and mom died. I hurt for him when I first read the words that he would never post on his blog. I hurt for him now.

I know that I heard a gunshot and if Amber wasn't badly hurt, do they believe it was me? Surely they realize by now, almost twenty-four hours after the fact, that I'm missing. If I ever get out of here, what am I going to be going home to?

I have to take deep breaths and slow myself down. I am getting overwhelmed and losing perspective. It is so bloody frustrating being unable to reach them in any way. I want to scream and kick things, but logically, I know the only thing that will happen is that I'll hurt myself. That is no help at all. I'm not prepared for this, not really. I understand in a bad situation you have to keep your cool, but how do I think my way through this when I have absolutely nothing to hand?

I must have dozed off again because I am awakened a little later by raised voices, neither of which, to my disappointment, is male. I get out of bed and slowly move toward the door. I place my ear up against the wood as if would be the voices that more audible. Well, beggars can't be choosers.

I could hear Heather's voice, but the other woman with her sounded older, maybe about Papa's age. I shifted and then just slid to the floor so that my back was against the wood. It was difficult but I did manage to make out the words "photograph," "mobile," and "dead."

Well now, what exactly did that mean? At once, my mind was off and running again, considering all the scenarios that would end up with me being dead. Heather had told me she only wanted me to get my dads' attention, specifically Papa's. I was shaking just a little bit, once again losing my cool. I took several deep breaths and could feel some reason return.

I just needed to think this through, just like aiming at a target. Relax, breath, settle into the rhythm of Amber's canter and then fire. I felt myself relax after a few moments like this. Heather said she did not want to hurt me, which was first thing. Second thing, she was keeping me fed and relatively comfortable, even though I was technically a prisoner. Third thing, she had told me that Amber was never meant to be hurt…but I could not quite trust someone who employed thugs who would shoot at horse. That was unnecessary, considering they could have just snuck up behind me when I was outside the barn.

The sound of light footsteps in the hallway broke into my musings. I jumped up and ran into the little bathroom, clicking that door shut just as the other one opened. Heather called out to me, hopefully believing in my little ruse. I flushed the toilet and made a show of washing my hands, letting the water run a little longer than strictly necessary to prove I hadn't heard anything.

I stepped out and noted that Heather had set a large covered tray on the table by the little sofa. The smell of cinnamon wafted to me and my stomach growled. I looked to Heather. She was standing in the middle of the room with one hand on her hip. The other hand she held out toward me and in it her fingers curled around a small mobile phone. I stared at the little black machine like I was a knight finding the Holy Grail. After a few seconds, I tore myself away to look at her face.

She did not exactly smile, but she nodded down towards the phone.

"You get one text message, Sophie. Just one. Don't try to call anyone." Once again, I am struck by how familiar her bearing seems to be. She opens her hand and I pick up the little phone. I turn my back on her and listen as she flops down on the little two-seater sofa. She grabs the remote off the floor and flicks on the telly. Why this show of ignoring me? You can't really hear a text message; we both know she's listening to make sure I don't place an actual call. There is really no need to be so sly about it.

My mind is a blur. I need to be able to tell them where I am. I need to tell them I am okay, but I think most of all I need to warn them. I know they have dealt with some pretty barmy characters in the past and, all things considered, I think I'm on the same path here. Now, which one do I send the message to?

Daddy was sure to be watching his phone, but he has a bad habit of setting it down in the kitchen and just walking away from it. I could message Uncle Mikey, but he's also likely to be busy at the moment, as would be Uncle Greg. I push the power button and turn on the little thing. It takes it a few seconds and I note that its an older model, number probably unlisted, and most likely no GPS service available. Well, I've got to make due with what I've been given.

Finally, I type in Papa's number and just hope his phone is in his pocket where it seems to be twenty-four seven. He's pretty obsessive about it. I punch in the message.

I'm alive n well. Locked in. F Keeper knows U2 says Mom needs UR help. Says did something stupid needs U 2 fix. I love you. Pls come get me. –Sophie

I can only hope that its enough as I push the "send" button. Heather has dropped all pretense of listening intently and removes the phone from my hand. She quickly turns the phone off and turn, leaving the room without another word.

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