Taken

She reached for the phone, then drew back. You’re an Army wife, she told herself, and an Army brat, and you should hold firm and keep silent, and never, never, ask questions.

Sam and Eric scurried into the room, then back out of it, but A

She picked up the phone and made the call.

“Marty, A

She could sense Marty’s hesitation. It lasted three seconds, then he spoke.

“ Lubbock,” he said. “ Lubbock, Texas.”

They came over a rise, and it lay before them, a bare patch of earth, almost perfectly round, with nothing touched at the rim of the circle, not so much as a singed blade of grass.

“I found this two days after he left,” Sally told Owen. “Nothing’s grown here since.” She shook her head. “My heart’s sort of like the ground here.” She looked at him tenderly. “You need to know that if you stay.”

Owen lifted his gaze from the bare ground and settled it on Sally. “I come from a long line of farmers. We can grow corn in a field where grass won’t grow.” He smiled and drew her into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, Sally,” he told her. “You’re the sun and the moon to me.”

They kissed, and Owen felt her surrender to him briefly, then return to herself, her features clearly troubled.

“Jacob,” she said.

“He doesn’t like me, does he?” Owen asked.

“No.”

Owen kissed her again, then said, “Maybe I should take him fishing on the lake. Just the two of us. We could get to know each other.”

“I don’t think he’ll want to do that,” Sally said.

“Maybe I can persuade him,” Owen said.

When they returned to the house a few minutes later, Sally decided to take down the Christmas lights. Jacob held the ladder as she unstrung the last of the lights.

“Hold tight to the ladder, son,” Owen said softly, suddenly behind him.

Jacob looked at him silently.

“Accidents come out of nowhere,” Owen added significantly. “There’s always a tragedy around the corner.”

“Mr. Crawford and I were talking about the two of you getting to know each other,” Sally said as she came down the ladder, her hands filled with a string of lights. “He’s offered to take you fishing.”

Jacob looked at Owen warily.

“There’s nothing like a day on a lake for getting acquainted,” Owen said. “And I’m sure your mother will be fine here without us.” He smiled, but he knew his threat had hit home.

They left later that same afternoon. The sun was bright as they made their way toward the lake.

Owen peered out at the open road while Jacob sat beside him, silent, but full of dark apprehension, like a kid waiting in an open field as the twisting cloud draws near.

Sally flipped a piece of breaded steak into a pan of hot oil, the sizzle so loud she barely heard the knock at the front door.

She wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the door. A woman stood before her, well dressed, but curiously desolate. “I’m A

“Owen?” Sally asked.

“Owen Crawford,” A

“Wife?” Sally asked, her fear spiking now.

“Yes,” A

Sally felt all her hope turn to dread. “With my son,” she whispered.

On the way to the lake, Owen decided to end all pretense with this kid. He knew everything anyway, so what was the point.

He turned to him sharply. “It’ll go easier for your mom if you help me out.”

Jacob stared straight ahead, his hands in his lap. “Are you going to dissect me when it’s over?”

So he really does know everything, Owen thought, knows specifically his use. “That depends on how much you tell us without being cut open.”

Jacob’s face remained expressionless. “It doesn’t end with me,” he said. His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. “I’m not the only one.”

Kate lay awake in her bed, thinking of Jesse. She could feel him around her, all but hear his breathing in his adjoining bedroom. She knew he wasn’t there, and yet his presence hung in the air around her, palpable as his slender arms.

She pulled herself from the bed and walked down the corridor to her son’s room. His things lay in piles, just as he’d left them the day his father took him. But where had he been taken? What had Russell done? She imagined the most dreadful possibilities, and with each one, sank deeper into her loss, a misery that was almost suffocating.

She sat down on Jesse’s bed, half-expecting to feel the rustle of his body as he snuggled closer. She looked at his closet, his desk, the bookshelf, and finally at the book she’d read to him when he was younger, The Adventures of Artemis P. Fonswick.

She smiled at the cover, Artemis standing at the doorway of his tree house.

Something broke the silence, a faint scratching at the window. She rose, walked to the window and looked out into the night. She could feel something calling to her, beckoning her out of the house and into the yard. She headed down the stairs and out into the ebony air of the backyard. The great tree at the end of it appeared to motion for her, urging her forward.

She stepped around the dark trunk and he looked up, his eyes widening in wild relief.

Jesse!

Bill unlocked the door and entered the cell.

“They told me Jesse was home,” Russell said as he got to his feet. “Is he all right?”

“No thanks to you,” Bill said dryly.

Russell grabbed Bill’s arm. “Did he say what happened?”

Bill drew his arm from Russell’s grasp. “Just that you fell asleep and he wandered off into the woods.” He looked at Russell sternly. “I wanted to hold you for kidnapping, but Kate wants me to let you go.”

“As long as Jesse’s all right,” Russell said softly.

The blow came from out of nowhere, and he felt his stomach cave in around Bill’s clenched fist.

“Don’t come back here,” Bill warned. “Ever.”

Owen kept his eyes on Jacob as he dropped the coins into the diner’s only pay phone. He was sitting alone in the booth, staring out at the desert, his eyes curiously lightless, his body as motionless as if he were already dead.

“Marty, we should be there by tonight,” he said.

Marty’s voice was strained. “Your wife called,” he said. “She told me Sam had gotten hurt and she needed to know where you were.”

“And you told her?”

“I thought she needed to…”

“Listen to me,” Owen snarled. “Get over to my house and see if the kids are okay. If they are, start shopping for a very warm jacket.”

He slammed the phone into its cradle and strode back to the booth.

Jacob was still staring out the diner window, the hamburger and fries untouched on his plate.

“You should eat something,” Owen told him. “You’re going to need your strength.”

Jacob slowly turned his eyes on Owen. “Mr. Crawford,” he said. “Look at me.”

Seconds later, Jacob could still hear the man screaming as he left the diner and began to make his way back home. He knew the man in the diner would never look for him again, never want to look in his eyes, see what he had seen there. One thing was certain, he was safe from Owen Crawford, and he always would be.