Ben sat looking at the things he'd assembled, wondering how in the round world he'd free himself. The boy thought back to the day before, the day he'd spent with his dad. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to get out. It was nice, having someone to teach him things, someone he could talk to. Victoria had tried her best to listen to him, but she was also busy providing for him. He didn't fault her for that.
Ben had often asked about his biological father, what he looked like, where he was, his name, anything. It took her fourteen years to tell him a single detail, and then she'd done it in a letter. At the time Ben had thought how cowardly it was of her not to tell him face to face. He was too young to understand how difficult it is to think someone you love will be disappointed in you. The boy had felt that way, but didn't connect it to how his mother had felt. Still, she did tell him and sent him the picture of Benton. So many questions filled Ben's mind as he sat on the front seat of the Explorer. How could two people so unlike find enough in common to get close enough to make a child? Why hadn't his mother told Fraser he had a son? Why hadn't she told him any details about his father?
The boy thought back to those times when his mother would take his face gently in her hands and study him for a moment before kissing his forehead. Ben had always wondered at the odd, wistful, longing expression on her face. Winter days, when the snow flakes would drift lazily down, she would stare out the window for hours after Ben had gone to bed. He'd gotten up once in the middle of the night when he was about eight and saw her sitting on the couch, staring into the darkness as the snow fell outside, crying. Afraid, he'd gone to her and asked,
"Mommy, what's wrong, why are you crying?" He remembered the way his mother had scooped him up in her arms, pulling him onto her lap and holding him tightly. She hadn't answered him at first. When she did it was in a hoarse whisper.
"Nothing is wrong, baby, I'm just a little sad is all." Victoria had dried her face and dished them both out a small bowl of fudge ripple ice cream, even though it was the middle of the night. Ben remembered it so clearly.
"Hey, kid, what are you doing in there?" The lunkhead asked from the doorway. Ben could see light behind him from the kitchen of the house, but not the man's face.
"Just trying to get a more comfortable seat, that's all." Frantic, Ben dropped the things he'd collected in floorboard at his feet and shuffled them beneath the seat with his heels.
"You're being too quiet in here, makes me suspicious, or ain't it warm enough in Canada to make noise?" Lunkhead laughed at his own lame joke.
"My dad is Canadian, my mom is from Alaska, moron." Ben rolled his eyes. He wondered why he hadn't outsmarted this adult yet.
"Hell froze over is still hell, kid, don't matter how you dice it up." Lunkhead came closer, his booted feet scuffing across the cement carefully. "Where did your mother hide that money anyway, some pass somewhere?"
"We never talked about it, OK, why does everyone keep asking me about that stupid money she stole ten years before I was even born." Ben complained. It had been all anyone wanted to talk about after Victoria had gotten caught on the last robbery. Lawyers, kids at school, everyone, asked him where the money was hidden. The only people who hadn't asked him about it were Maggie, Ray and his dad. Ben banged his head against the head rest of the front seat, wishing he were anywhere else but sitting in that Ford Explorer, in the dark.
"Half a million dollars free and clear that's why, kid, it ain't as much as it used to be, but it beats nothing." Lunkhead answered, his voice very near by to the vehicle.
"That won't be very much once you split it between the four of you." Ben reasoned, trying to pump information out of his captor.
"Nah, see my brother says we can get out of the country and not have to split it but two ways, mine and his, they got one of the other guys, the one we dropped off before we got here." Lunkhead bragged eagerly. Brains had never been his strength.
"What are you going to do with your part of the money if you get it?" The boy began fiddling with an ink pen absentmindedly.
"I don't know yet, but my brother says we ought to go our separate ways when we get the money, he says I should go to a country without an extradition treaty, I think that's what he called it." A shrug in his voice told Ben he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box.
"How are you going to get there?" He dug a little deeper.
"I don't know, Willie says he'll take care of it." Lunkhead didn't even realize he'd let his brother's name slip. "Willie, see, he's always been the boss, me, I'm better at just doing what he tells me, I learned how to hot wire a car when I was eleven." He sounded proud of that.
Ben shook his head, he was better than average at doing such things too. He'd been stealing small amounts of money from people since his mother's arrest, planning to leave the children's home for Chicago.
"Why don't you take the money and run, without your brother?" Ben took the ink pen cartridge and began fiddling with it as Lunkhead thought for a moment.
"Willie, he's the one with the passports and all the connections." It took the kidnapper a full three minutes to answer the question.
"How did your brother know who I was, who my mother is anyway?" The thought occurred to him that Lunkhead's brother may just kill him and anyone else who didn't serve his purpose.
"He met this guy from Alaska last year at some convention, they got to talking over drinks at the hotel bar and things kinda went from there." Lunkhead tried to remember what the guy's name was but drew a blank.
"How did the guy know my mom?" Experimentally, Ben stuck the cartridge into the handcuff lock and began working it around inside.
"She was caught in Canada trying to get away, the police never found the money and he wants it back and revenge." It didn't tell Ben anything specific but someone could always look it up after he'd gotten free.
"Who was the other guy in the car yesterday, it wasn't you, or your brother?" Ben wondered aloud. He tried very hard to keep the handcuffs quiet in case they came unlocked. The boy didn't know what he could do against an armed man, but he knew he had to have his hands free.
"Ha! That schmuck was your dad's boss, kid." Lunkhead chuckled.
"Mr. Gordon?" The revelation wasn't much of a surprise, the guy had been too squirrel-ie.
"I guess he's not a goody two shoes like your ole' man, kid." The kidnapper sighed, a chuckle dying in his throat.
"Or my Aunt Maggie or Constable Turnbull." Thought Ben to himself. "I guess not." He said aloud. The handcuffs unlocked with a small click. It was hard not to get excited, the metal restraints had been biting into his wrists for hours.
"Are you hungry, there's some more pizza in the house." Lunkhead offered, "it's fresh, I just got it an hour ago."
"Yes, thanks." Ben answered, hoping he could get away soon. Quickly, the put the handcuffs back around his wrist but didn't lock them. Lunkhead shuffled off to the house, his feet dragging across the cement.
"I've got to get out of here." Ben shoved open the vehicle door, grabbed his knife and began feeling his way around the garage, hoping it had a door to the outside. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind as his hands fumbled along the wall feeling the cool brick beneath his fingers. When his hands hit the wooden frame of a door he heard the door to the house open.
"Here you go, kid, pepperoni pizza." Lunkhead opened the vehicle door but saw no one, and then he swore. "It's not a good idea to run, kid, I'll have to kill you, or my brother will kill me." Lunkhead dropped the pizza on the seat and turned the overhead light on. After so many hours in the dark, Ben couldn't see a single thing around him. Instinctively, he searched for the doorknob. When it wouldn't open Ben shoved his shoulder into the rotting wood, praying for it to break through.
"Hey, kid, I don't want to do this, but my brother, he gets real mean." The kidnapper couldn't see anything either. After a third shove the door broke through, dumping Ben out into the side yard. Tripping over his own two feet, the boy began running. When he heard the shot ring out Ben ducked, and hit the dirt. Lunkhead pinned him to the ground. The boy wanted to cry but wouldn't.
"I won't shoot you this time, kid, but I am gonna have to tie you up tighter." The kidnapper yanked Ben up by the back of his shirt and took him back to the garage. Unceremoniously, he dumped the boy in the backseat of the Explorer and went to find some rope.
"Let me go, you'll get the money." Ben shouted as he settled down on the seat.
"I really am sorry, kid, but I can't do that, Willie would kill me." Lunkhead's voice took on a tremble, as if he were certain of what he was saying. Ben let him tie his hands and feet with an old clothes line. He didn't see any hope of getting away. He knew how his mother felt sitting in prison.
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