Stealing Allie

by H S Russell

  “Yeah. I know. It was fun. Anyway, it’s a small lead. And I mean small. This contact is jumpy, so it’s going to take some time.” He’s silent for a second. “You still want me to follow up though? Sounds like maybe I shouldn’t.”

  José and Adam both answer with emphatic no’s.

  I laugh because it feels so fucking good to have this little bit of hope. “That’s a yes, Bean. Keep me posted.” Finally, we have something.

  Finally.

  Three months gone

  Allie

  Ax was right.

  Changing my appearance—i.e. losing weight—is turning me into someone else. Granted I had some initial help at the beginning—turns out running for your life is a great weight loss plan. But now that I’m settled and into the gym groove, my body is changing right before my very eyes. It’s slow—painful too—but it’s real, and it’s happening.

  On the way home from an afternoon of errands, I pass by a beauty salon. I’ve walked past it before but have never looked inside. But today, something makes me stop and look at myself in the window. I see the reflection of a woman I’ve never met before. I look like me, but I’m a different me. My body is slimmer, less round, and my hair is so much longer now, longer than it’s been since college. And it has body too, now that the days of the hard hat are long gone.

  I can have a hairstyle, I realize. I can do something girly and pretty and feminine, just like I’ve always imagined. I can be one of those girls who uses product and blows it dry with a round brush. I can try one of those rotating curling irons too.

  My gaze finds the posters on the salon walls. They trigger a familiar yearning for an indulgence I never let myself have, because why? Girls who wear hard hats don’t need hair product.

  But now…

  Two hours later, I float down the street with a bag containing three bottles of product, one blow dryer, two different types of brushes, and a curling wand that comes with its own glove. The stylist she gave my long hair a sexy cut and added highlights and lowlights. My hair is beautiful and shiny, which makes me feel beautiful and shiny too. I love it.

  I find myself slowing down every time I walk past a storefront window so I can get a glimpse of my new self. I don’t know who that woman in the window is, but I think I’m going to like her. As I walk some more, I catch the eye of a gentleman, and he winks at me. Winks!

  Sometimes I think about writing Lucas a thank-you note for all the improvements his actions pushed me into. Whether he meant to or not, what he did has changed my life for the better. I snicker as I imagine the look on his face as he opens a letter from me—a thank-you letter no less.

  Shaking my head, I make myself quit thinking of Lucas, telling myself that Lucas isn’t thinking about me. By this time, I’m sure he’s moved on and has put me out of his mind. So far out of his mind that he probably doesn’t even remember me.

  Four months gone

  Lucas

  Four months and I still can’t stop thinking about her. I don’t know what Allie did to me, but whatever it was, she did it good.

  I tap on my ear to answer a call from Bean. “I think I got a solid lead,” he says.

  Everything inside and around me stops. “What did you say?”

  “I think it’s Allie,” he says, his voice a little excited. “It sounds like it could be anyway.”

  I push away from the computer, my heartbeat accelerating as adrenaline floods my veins. “Tell me.”

  “That lead I told you about? It was someone who knows someone who knows a guy that makes new IDs—birth certificates, social security cards, everything. My contact said the guy made a new ID for some chick who’s the friend of this radical anti-government guy.”

  “Get to the point, Bean.”

  “Yeah. Well, it turns out that this anti-government guy went to college with Allie. They were in the same pre-cal class.”

  “Go on.”

  “So I finally get in touch with the person in the know and it turns out this guy ordered a whole identity package for some girl only a few days after Allie escaped.”

  “Fuck me,” I mutter as I rake my hands over my face. This is something. This is finally something.

  “Yeah, but here’s the kicker, Luc. The new name they gave this chick…” He huffs. “Amy Smith, Lucas. Her new name is Amy Fucking Smith. You wanna take a guess at how many Amy Smiths there are in this country?”

  My blood hums at the thought of closing in on her. Of getting my hands on her. This must be what the lion feels when it finally catches sight of the prey it’s been scenting and stalking.

  But then Bean’s words make it through my filters. “Amy Smith? Are you fucking serious?” The surge of victory I’d been feeling drains out of me as I think how much harder finding her just got. “Fuck, Bean, I don’t know if that’s brilliant or evil,” I tell him.

  He lets out a loud snort. “It’s evil, trust me. With a common name like that, it could take us years to find her. Years, Lucas. You hear me? Especially if she keeps moving around.”

  I shake my head at the thought. I don’t care how difficult this is, I’m not giving up. And he knows it. “What’s the first step?”

  “I’ll start searching all the usual databases using this new name, but she could be anywhere by now. There’s a whole lot of ground to cover and keep track of. Plus it’s going to take some serious time and change. You sure you want to lose even more money because of her?”

  Oh yeah. Even if she hadn’t stolen from me, I would still look for Allie. I’d bleed out every last drop of blood if that’s what it takes to find her. “Let’s split the country up into quadrants; you take one quarter, and I’ll take the rest. I’ll set up a database you can feed your data into so we can keep track of who we’ve vetted and marked off the list.”

  “That works. But I already set a database up.” Bean gives me the information on accessing it, and then we discuss search methodologies. With so many women with that name, we need to make sure we’re not checking the same ones.

  After we hang up, I put the name Amy Smith into Google. Just as Bean said, there are thousands of them. But it’s the first solid anything we’ve gotten in months. I’m not going to let the scope of this derail me. If this is her new name, I’ll fucking find her.

  Chapter 24

  Six months gone

  Allie

  Everything is different now. When I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize the person staring back. It’s been only six months, but my life is completely different! I feel like I’ve stepped through a wormhole where I was sucked out of the life I hated and fell into the life I’ve always wanted.

  I pinch myself every day to see if this is real. It is.

  The latest change is that while I’ve continued with my gym workouts, I’ve also started jogging.

  Jogging!

  It’s hard, grueling work. Sweat and exertion do not discriminate between the ugly and the pretty. If you’re doing it right, you’re going to look and feel like the grossest version of yourself imaginable. Like flu-you, like just-puked-my-guts-up you.

  But the second you’re done—the second you get off that treadmill or put down that hand weight—exhilaration sweeps through you. Then, as you watch your body transform into the strongest, best version of you that’s possible, you’re so thankful that you’ve unlocked this secret. It’s like the highest high ever, but it’s not easy.

  Everything they say about exercising has turned out to be true. I sleep better at night and have more energy during the day. I’m not as hungry as I used to be. My days seem brighter, as if my whole outlook has changed. The old me that was weighted down by low self-esteem and processed foods is gone. That girl who let all of her dreams die in a vat of processed, solitary hopelessness is gone too. I carried so much weight around, both physically and mentally, that I never realized exactly how tired and depressed I was. But now, it’s like everything has been lifted.

  And it’s all because of a devastatingly handsome thief who kidnapp
ed me, imprisoned me, and made me come harder than I ever have.

  He’s also the man who gave me back the girl I used to be. I’d told myself that I would never know if what I felt for Lucas was real or if it was a result of Stockholm syndrome. After being gone for four months and still missing him as much as I do, I’m thinking that it’s the former and not the latter.

  He’s the thief that, as cheesy as it sounds, stole my heart. A thief who may or may not be looking for me. A thief with hazel eyes. My thief.

  Six months gone

  Lucas

  “I think I may have a match.”

  It’s the first time those words have ever left Bean’s mouth. It’s been six months and it’s the very first time. “Tell me.”

  “I think it’s her anyway. I mean, it sounds like it is. I’m waiting for a photo to come in.”

  “You haven’t seen her yet?”

  “No. I just now got the 411 on this one. She moved into a furnished apartment about six months ago.” Six months ago Allie ran away from my home, taking my money with her.

  “A furnished apartment makes sense. Is it nice?” Because she can afford something nice with all my damn money.

  “Actually, no, this place is a bit of a dump. If she’s used any of your cash, it’s not on this place. At least not this Amy Smith.”

  Interesting. “Where is she?”

  “She’s five hundred miles away, living right in the middle of the city.” He hesitates. “I’m still not sure it’s her, but everything fits too well. I mean, if it’s not her, it’s one hell of a big fucking coincidence. Moving into a place already furnished at the exact right time frame, plus she’s the right age, has questionable employment… Just waiting for a visual.”

  “When is the picture coming in?”

  “I got a guy who’s on the ground waiting for her to leave her apartment. Apparently this chick likes to jog around this time of day, so he’s goi—”

  “Jog?” I interrupt. “Bean, fucking hell. You’ve seen her social media pages, you know what she looks like. Allie doesn’t jog.” What the fuck is he thinking? “Don’t spend any more time on this one.”

  He sighs. “Lucas, it’s too big of a coincidence to dismiss. It’s been six months…people can change in that amount of time.”

  “I get it, but you’re wasting time with this one. Allie doesn’t jog, plus she wouldn’t rent a dump, not with the money she took. Enter her info into the database and move on.”

  “A pic just came in.” He pauses, then moans in a way I never want to hear again. “Nope, not your Allie. But fucking hell, you’d wish she was,” he says. “This one is fuckin’ hot, Luc. You sure you don’t want to see her?”

  “Next one, Bean.”

  “Sure, boss. But can I keep this one? I’m thinking I’d like an Allie too…”

  He’s laughing as I hang up.

  Eight months gone

  Allie

  I stand on the sidewalk in front of the steps to my apartment, stretching and bending as I get ready for a jog. I both love and hate jogging. It makes me feel good knowing that I can run if I have to, but it’s so not fun while it’s happening.

  I’ve incorporated jogging, weights, the madness that is CrossFit, and defense training into my normal routine. I keep adding to my repertoire, sometimes swapping out the old with something new. Everything stays fresh this way.

  They say the first real line of defense is paying attention. I’ve trained myself to always look at my surroundings and the people around me. I watch who comes and goes from my street and from my neighbors’ apartments. I watch the vans that park near the apartment building since any one of them could be a decoy.

  I have no way of knowing if Lucas is heeding my note to leave me alone or if he just can’t find me. Either way, I have to prepare for him, no matter what. If he comes for me, if he ever finds me, I have to be ready. I have to be strong. Being strong is the only way I’ll ever have a chance against him.

  So I work out, and I work hard.

  I love it here. I know I should be moving on, but I hate the thought of leaving this life. My neighbors, my friends at the gym, even my hairstylist…there have even been a few dates lately with some really great guys. Guys with good careers, who come from good families and act like gentlemen. None of them are criminals. None of them would lock me away and throw away the key. Every man I’ve gone out with always, always treats me like a lady.

  And yet, not a single one of them make me feel the way Lucas did.

  I still remember the electricity that arced between us, but I can’t remember now if that was from fear or passion. The two have gotten so confused in my memories I wonder if one doesn’t exist without the other. As sick as it sounds, the memories of Lucas’s intense stares still make my heart skip a beat. And it’s still the focus of my fantasies, the ones I play out in my mind in the middle of night—the ones I play out with my fingers.

  Even after all these months, every date I go on, every good-night kiss I have, gets compared to Lucas. He should be the last guy I use as a measuring stick, and yet he’s become the one that set the bar. I know that if we’d met under normal circumstances, he never would have looked at me…never would have seen me.

  But he did, and I haven’t been able to move past him since. Something is wrong with me to miss him this much, to wonder how he is, to wonder if he’s looking for me.

  I gaze around the park, loving how the sunlight flashes through the trees as I run. I know that it’s time to leave this city; I’ve been here long enough. Too long, really. Every day I stay could be one day closer to my reckoning.

  But I don’t want to move. I don’t want to have to start all over again. My life here is good, really good, and leaving will be heart-wrenching in ways leaving my old home never was. This place is like nirvana. If I leave here—when I leave here—it will be just one more thing Lucas will have stolen from me.

  Maybe one more month. I’ll let myself stay one more month and enjoy the life I’ve created. I’ve been safe this long, another month won’t matter. I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing, because I deserve this.

  For one more month, I’ll jog, exercise, flirt, go on dates, and kiss men who aren’t Lucas. And if I keep measuring men to Lucas, then so be it. One day I’ll meet a man who will shatter his memory to pieces until he’s nothing but a vague memory.

  When I go to sleep that night, I allow myself to believe my own lies and relax in the cradle of denial.

  Chapter 25

  Eight months gone

  Lucas

  Adam and Bean are at it again, fighting over a woman or some shit.

  “Dude, when she sees the size of my anaconda, you’ll be nothing but yesterday’s turd.” Adam, the more mature of the two of them.

  Next up: Bean. “I saw her first, man. You go spend eight months and track down your own hot Amy, asswipe. This one’s mine.”

  Everything stops when I hear Allie’s fake name, Amy. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?”

  Bean pipes up. He’s always been a bit of a tattler. “I showed Adam that hot Amy, the one with the great rack—the jogger. Now he thinks she should belong to him.” He pauses. “I saw her first, Lucas, you know I did.”

  José intervenes. “If you don’t stop fighting, I’ll claim her as mine.”

  Not what I thought he was going to say. “You guys realize that these women are not matchbox cars or Pez dispensers, right?” I tell them.

  Silence. “Well, they kinda are…” says Bean.

  I rub my hands down my face. I have the brightest guys working on some of the most intricate coding and networking shit on the globe, and they’re acting like twelve-year-old boys.

  The chatter starts up all over again until José breaks in. “Boys, boys. There’s only one solution.” Finally, the voice of reason and maturity. “This one’s too much for either of you to handle. She needs a man, not a boy, which is what both of you are. I’m taking her for myself.”

  “Wait a m
inute,” I interrupt. “You’ve seen her, José?” I ask. “Bean, you want to explain why everyone but me has seen her?”

  He sighs like a kid who’s just been caught. Probably because that’s what he actually is. “She’s in the database, Lucas. I put the pictures in there to act as visuals. It helps to keep them straight. It also just so happens that some of these Amys are smoking hot. The guys got wind of the database, and so now they want in on the action, but I’m calling dibs.”

  “Lucas, you realize that you and Bean have what could be considered a database full of Amys?” Adam asks, laughing at his joke.

  I ignore Adam and open up the database, quickly finding the images tab that Bean is talking about. “Let’s drop this and get to real business. José, you’re up.”

  José talks about a new job possibility; it’s stuff I’ve already heard. I zone out as I click through dozens of Amys in the database. The guys are right—some of these Amys are hot. I need to get in on this; maybe it’ll take my mind off Allie.

  I tune back in to José, listening to him while I keep clicking, not so much looking at the women as registering their faces in the back of my mind.

  Then my click brings up a new image, and I see her.

  Everything inside of me stops at the imprint she makes in my head, an imprint that is her, but is not her. I scramble to pull up her data, reading it over quickly. Going back to the picture, I stare it at, dumbfounded. Relieved. Because there she is. My Allie.

  And fuck me if she isn’t the hot jogger I’d told Bean to check off the list. He didn’t recognize her because he was looking for the Allie we had ID pictures of. We were all looking for that Allie, but this isn’t her. Rather, it’s her, but it’s a different version of her.

  In the picture, Allie is wearing tiny, little jogging clothes don’t cover much of her body, a body that didn’t belong to my Allie when she was with me. But I keep looking at her face, superimposing what I remember her looking like, and I know that she’s my Allie. My Allie, but a different Allie as well.