Abducted Read online

  ABDUCTED

  By Brian Pinkerton

  A Gordian Knot Production

  Gordian Knot is an imprint of Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition published by Crossroad Press

  Digital Edition Copyright 2015 / Brian Pinkerton

  LICENSE NOTES

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Meet the Author

  Brian Pinkerton is an American author of fiction in the suspense, thriller, mystery and horror genres. His novels include Abducted, Vengeance, Killer’s Diary, Rough Cut, Bender, and How I Started the Apocalypse. Select titles have also been released as audio books and in foreign languages.

  Brian’s short stories have appeared in anthologies including Chicago Blues, PULP!, and Zombie Zoology. His screenplays have finished in the top 100 of Project Greenlight and top two percent of the Nicholl Fellowship of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Brian received his B.A. from the University of Iowa and Master’s Degree from Northwestern University.

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  ABDUCTED

  PART ONE

  I

  Anita felt years of stress lift off her body as Dennis ­drove the Jeep across the Bay Bridge, leaving Digital Learnings behind in a galaxy of skyline lights. The magnetic pull of motherhood had drawn her out of her San Francisco office to return home to Rockridge for good. There was no going back.

  It wasn’t that she disliked Digital Learnings. Far from it—she enjoyed the camaraderie of her coworkers, the challenges of her clients, the kudos that came after she mastered another polished piece of product from rough thoughts. But it was work. A job. A 9-to-5 gig that had stretched unfairly to eclipse the daylight.

  With a growing certainty, she had come to realize that the paychecks and ego fulfillment were holding her captive from what was truly the most important thing in her life: an amazing two-year-old boy with blond hair, curious eyes, and fast feet. A son named Tim.

  Her boss, Maggie, and five coworkers all understood. At least they said they understood. There was encouragement, but some of it felt hollow. Could they really identify with her? Only two had children—one of them being Maggie, saddled with a teenage girl who (at least in anecdotes) existed only to defy her mother and flirt with every known illegal substance and forbidden activity. Maggie tossed out the latest family melodramas for morning coffee conversation, reciting arguments with bitter amusement and weary aggravation, but no real resolve. The stories were usually cut short by, “Well, I better get back to work.” Priorities.

  I’m not going to let that happen to me, Anita had told herself. But there had been some days where she saw it coming. Like the day when the nanny called and Tim was running a high temperature and a parent was required to sign him into the hospital. Dennis was unreachable. Anita was needed. Her first reaction: Damn it, I have a presentation this afternoon.

  But it hadn’t taken long to snap out of her work mode, cancel the client, exit the office, and speed home. Tonight was not much different, except this time the retreat was permanent.

  “This is the right decision,” Maggie had said earlier, “for you.” She said it in a slightly barbed way that meant, “but not for me.” They were having a “Goodbye Anita” dinner on Fisherman’s Wharf. Dennis had looked up from his crabcakes and locked eyes with Anita; he never cared for Maggie’s tone. She was shrill, she lacked tact, and she was a charging bull packed into a child-like, five-foot-two frame. Dennis would be happy to see her fade away and never disrupt the household calm with another client crisis.

  Over the years, Dennis had done his best to sidestep his wife’s coworkers and she didn’t really blame him. They were a knot of high-strung, high-maintenance women—not a male in sight—who dug into every detail of their work with a life-or-death importance. They mainly knew Dennis from the pleasant voice that answered the phone at home. They probably didn’t know that he often told them she wasn’t there—out shopping—when in reality, she was reading a bedtime story to Tim, or bathing him, or just holding him in the big family room chair, watching his soft face drift off to sleep. She didn’t mind when Dennis did this. But she always called back. And when she did, it almost always guaranteed that the next few hours belonged to Digital Learnings.

  Not anymore.

  Dennis already seemed happier with the new arrangement. Tonight at dinner he was more talkative than usual, even charming to her coworkers. At thirty-two he had retained a youthful handsomeness and stayed in shape, even as his face sagged a little, drooped even, and his fabulous head of hair thinned with slow motion menace. His new glasses gave him the look of a thoughtful professor—she had picked them out and convinced him they were hip. Originally, he wasn’t looking for hip—he wanted something similar to the wide frames he had worn ever since high school.

  Anita knew he was nervous about his new responsibilities as sole provider. She knew it would cut into his CD shopping sprees and box seats at Pac Bell Park. But he would be getting a lot more in return.

  Anita looked forward to cooking real dinners, surprising Dennis with exotic recipes—no more carryout, microwave meals, or frozen pizzas. She would make sure he appreciated her stay-at-home status, even if her coworkers made her feel guilty.

  “I would like to propose a toast,” Maggie declared during dinner, “to Anita’s early retirement.” Chuckles, smiles, clinking glasses. As the wine flowed, the words became sloppier and more sentimental.

  “I just want to thank you for being an amazing person,” Liz told her, following up with such a laundry list of glowing qualities that Anita wondered if it was part of a scheme to make her feel bad for leaving.

  “I will miss your tenacity and incredible focus,” said Mita. “But most of all, I will miss your sense of humor. Who’s going to crack us up? You were the one that could always cut through the crap. You put things in perspective.”

  The group promised to stay in touch. How can you go from spending sixty hours a week together to zero? Come and visit when you’re in the area, they implored her. We promise not to give you any work.

  Their joking was laced with apprehension. “I want to thank you for increasing my client load,” Mita remarked. “You know, there were still those four hours of sleep that I could turn into billable hours.”

  Anita had given Maggie six weeks notice
and Maggie had promised the others that someone would be brought on board to replace her, but, no surprise, it hadn’t happened yet. Not even a single interview. If it took away from client time, it was hard to find a slot in Maggie’s overstuffed calendar.

  “To replace Anita, we’re going to have to hire two or three people,” Maggie had said. It wasn’t a bad idea—the small company was seriously understaffed, and not because of money. Digital Learnings was bringing in more revenue every month, making its name well-known in the interactive textbook field, winning its first slew of industry awards and getting great write-ups in technical publications. Maggie just couldn’t get around to expanding the staff—and her staff suffered for it.

  If it was suffering. Some of them appeared to feed off the chaos and crushing workload. It made them feel important. But not Anita. Tim made her feel important.

  Tim always made her day. His little reactions to her—the way Anita could bring out a smile, the giggles, the wide-eyed wonder. She wanted to be the center of his universe again, like the weeks she had stayed home with him after he was born.

  In recent months, Anita had become worried that Tim was growing up thinking the nanny, Pam, was his mommy. He certainly saw more of Pam than anyone else. Lately, Anita had been more like an occasional visitor, some lady who shared time with him on the weekends, but otherwise appeared as a sporadic glimpse in the morning or at bedtime.

  On some nights, being careful not to wake him, Anita brought Tim into her bed in a feeble effort to spend more time with him. Now more than ever, she wanted to be part of his days. His personality was developing, his curiosity was expanding, his vocabulary was growing. He wasn’t the passive, anonymous sleep/cry/poop machine anymore. He was quickly becoming a little person.

  It still hurt Anita that Tim’s first steps took place in front of Pam. Pam had sent a text message via cell phone. When Anita glanced at it during a meeting, she almost broke down in tears in front of everybody.

  TIM HAS A SURPRISE FOR YOU, said the message. HE WALKED! HE TOOK FOUR STEPS IN THE LIVING ROOM. HE IS SO PROUD.

  Anita felt crushing guilt and the ball began rolling that would lead to her decision to quit.

  When the Jeep Liberty finished crossing the Bay and reached solid ground, the departure from Digital Learnings somehow became permanent. Anita felt no regret in the pit of her stomach. No anxiety. No sadness. Just a warm, light feeling. And stronger affirmation that this was the right thing to do. Maybe in a few years, when Tim was in preschool, she would do some part-time consulting.

  Maybe. And maybe not.

  Anita had grown up with all the benefits and baggage of a stay-at-home mom, and she couldn’t imagine anything less for Tim. There was a strong, invisible bond with her mother that always maintained a presence, no matter how far apart they lived or how much time separated phone calls or visits. She wanted that for her relationship with her own child.

  As a stay-at-homer, what would every day be like? Anita tried to imagine. For one, she looked forward to ditching the business suits, the nylons, and the makeup for sweats, sneakers, and a cheap hairclip. Maybe she’d grow out her black hair, and let it go loose and tumble. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to join Dennis’s health club—maybe going three nights a week to keep in shape. She wanted to keep the fat banished from her five-foot-eight frame. One good thing about Digital Learnings: the job stress and missed lunches kept her lean and mean.

  Tomorrow morning was going to feel refreshing, like a hot shower. Nowhere to rush off to, no horrific “to do” list piling up in her head moments after the alarm clock buzz. No commuter crawl from Oakland to San Francisco. No panicky clients filling up her voicemail. No computer freeze-ups, no printer breakdowns. No piles of half-finished or barely started work serving other people.

  Sorry Mita, sorry Liz, sorry Maggie. Sorry Jenna and Yvette. It’s all in your hands now.

  They would carry on. It was arrogant to think that her absence would somehow collapse the company. Others had left before, and despite all the hand-wringing, things worked themselves out.

  No, thought Anita, I’m not worried about my friends at Digital Learnings. I don’t feel sorry for them. But I do feel sorry for Pam.

  Sweet, shy, and incredibly devoted Pam. Two days after submitting her resignation, Anita delicately broke the news to her. Dennis stood nearby, silent. Pam, a quiet and homely woman in her late thirties, took it hard. She didn’t respond for several minutes. Anita could tell that Pam was holding back a cracked voice and tears.

  Anita had felt awful—but then again, why should she? They both loved Tim. And this was best for Tim.

  Pam didn’t appear to have much of a life outside of her nanny routine. She was obviously someone who never quite figured out what she wanted to do. Or perhaps she was waiting for someone to hand her the answer. In any case, her love for children had defaulted into a career. Pam’s simplicity and sweetness seemed more suited to dealing with children than other adults. And she was great with Tim. Tim loved her. It was a perfect match.

  Upset, but swallowing back the hurt, Pam had said she understood. Anita and Dennis promised her that babysitting opportunities would come up. They didn’t want Pam to feel cut off from Tim’s life. And they didn’t want Tim to face an abrupt separation from Pam.

  Tonight, Pam was at the house with Tim, her last official day as Tim’s nanny. Earlier in the evening, when Anita and Dennis were backing out of the driveway on the way to dinner, Dennis had suddenly stopped the Jeep, swearing, realizing he had forgotten his wallet inside the house. When Dennis returned, he had unsettling news.

  Dennis told Anita how he entered the house and caught Pam off guard. She was picking up some of Tim’s toys in the kitchen. And she was crying.

  “She seems distraught,” Dennis told Anita. “Now I feel like crap.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Anita said.

  “I know.”

  “She just loves Tim, that’s all,” said Anita. “I don’t blame her. They’ve spent so much time together…”

  “I think he’s her best friend,” Dennis remarked. It sounded like a joke. But in a way, it wasn’t.

  Soon, Pam would have to leave the house for her apartment knowing that she would not return the following morning. Oh God, thought Anita to herself. I hope Pam doesn’t fall apart in front of us. There had already been enough drama for one day.

  The traffic on Interstate 580 was light, and Dennis was darting around anyone in his path. It was a chilly, colorless February evening. As they advanced through the familiar succession of East Bay neighborhoods, Dennis played his favorite CD by The Who. Gradually, he had been inching up the volume. Now it was too loud, like the neighborhood teenagers who blasted rap until their cars vibrated and looked ready to shed parts.

  Anita reached over and brought down the volume.

  Dennis looked at her. Anita said, “Pam’s check. The bonus.”

  Dennis nodded, shrugged. An indication that he wasn’t in the mood to turn the topic into a discussion. They had considered giving Pam a final “bonus” check to say thank you for everything.

  “How about three hundred dollars?” asked Anita.

  Dennis made a small grimace. “We’re letting her keep the cell phone.”

  That was a decision made earlier in the week. The cell phone was originally provided to her so she could reach Anita or Dennis—and vice versa—at all times. She carried it with her when she took Tim to the park, her apartment, McDonald’s. But it was a lame gift; Anita felt Pam deserved more.

  “Come on, we can afford it,” she nudged him about the check. “I know it’s not in the budget, but…”

  “OK,” said Dennis flatly. “Sure.” End of discussion.

  He just wants to turn the music back up, thought Anita.

  “We need to remember to get the baby’s car seat out of her car,” she told him.

  “Right,” said Dennis. “She can’t keep that.”

  “Relax,” she told him. She put her hand in his hair,
stroked it. They were both apprehensive about the reduced money flow of going down to one salary. On paper, it looked doable. Dennis was seeing a healthy spike in commissions from his real estate dealings. In fact, the company recently rewarded his third quarter sales performance with a San Francisco Giants golf bag and a complete set of clubs. It was a thoughtful gift that blended two of Dennis’s favorite pastimes, golf and baseball.

  Dennis had stumbled a bit in the early days of his career, and for a long stretch Anita had been bringing home the lion’s share of the bacon. The reason was simple and complicated: alcohol. When sales hit the skids, Dennis hit the bottle, and ultimately his alcohol problem outlasted the downturn in the economy.

  Despite the girls’ generous consumption of wine at dinner, Anita was pleased to see that Dennis had no problem staying on the wagon. He appeared disinterested in drinking. Some of the others knew about his alcoholism, and no one urged him to share in a glass.

  The alcohol period definitely strained the early years of their marriage. Fortunately, he quit when she was pregnant with Tim. She had convinced him that the stress of it all would hurt the baby—and she even floated the concept of leaving to avoid bringing up the baby in a home with an alcoholic father.

  Dennis sobered up. He got his act together. At work and at home, he mended broken fences. And he didn’t look back.

  It had been a narrow victory. A ninth-inning, bases-loaded, game-winning catch. The recovery rejuvenated the marriage.

  Anita felt confident that her decision to quit working would also strengthen the marriage. In the past year, she knew she could be a bitch. He wasn’t the only one who brought distractions into the marriage. If he was an alcoholic, she was a workaholic. She had been working late a lot, often bringing projects home, even bringing the laptop into their bed, which annoyed him to no end.

  She had become distracted and detached. Tim wasn’t the only one neglected. The whole family was affected.