by Joy Ohagwu
She groaned. “So, you’re saying regular people show up at eight at their own window and glare at it for like three minutes, every day?” She pointed toward him, hoping he didn’t consider that as rude. “So, do you do that every day, at the same time? Stare through the window, with someone’s hand reaching over from behind you as though they were keeping you in place?”
He blinked hard. Then his gaze dropped to the file in front of him. “Listen, kiddo, you just have speculations, but I have a case to pursue this morning. A dead girl in a rough part of town. I suggest you get home now.” His voice grew cryptic at her lecture, and she gave herself an internal check. If he was willing to listen, she wouldn’t throw that advantage away.
Nevertheless, she pressed her point. “What if she’s in danger, huh? Would you wait until she’s dead, like that girl in the rough part of town?” His eyes drilled into hers until she knew she drove him to the very limit. But she had to get an answer, a commitment from him to do something. “Fine. Can you at least check them out online or something?”
“Deal. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?” That cryptic tone again.
She stood on tiptoes—a blast of cool air hitting her cheeks from an open window like a mild rebuke—and kissed his cheek, leading him to gasp and growl. His beard was growing, and she couldn’t tell if he was too busy to shave or was growing it out. “If you did just that, Uncle Gary, I’d be the proudest niece.” She straightened, glad to have shown him she wasn’t so predictable after all.
Just because he’d been in the room when she was born didn’t mean she stayed small. She was growing into adulthood and wanted those in her family to see that and trust her questions as valid, even professional ones. “I’ll check again next week to see what you found out. Thanks a bunch!” Her phone rang, and she pulled it from her pocket and stared at it. “It’s Mom,” she announced and walked to the corner, content to have gotten half a yes.
“Tell Marcy I said hi.” Uncle Gary picked up the file and strode over to speak to another cop while Julia and her mom spoke.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Why did I overhear Gary?”
“I’m at the police station.”
Her mom’s gasp echoed. “What did you do, child?”
“Nothing. Why did you think I must’ve done something wrong? You should have some faith in your own child.” Rude. She winced. “I’m sorry. I just felt you shouldn’t accuse me just because you heard I was in a police station.”
Her mom grew silent, then asked, “Why are you there?”
“For Uncle Gary to look into something. Nothing to do with me.” She couldn’t say much until her uncle dug a little deeper.
Her mom’s hiss sliced through the speakers. “I love you. And if you’re in trouble, you know you can talk to me, right?”
Julia thrust her free hand into her hoodie pouch and swallowed a groan. “I’d like to do without a lecture right now. I’m not in trouble.”
“Why do I sense you’re hiding something?” Her mom’s tone was cutting.
“Because you don’t trust me.” Just saying the words—tasting their truth—hurt. “I’m not every teenager like you compare me to. And everything you hear out there about some teenager is not true about me. Please.” Even while her temper rose, she tried to keep her voice even.
“Are you saying you just went to a police station out of the blue, and you want me to suspend logic and believe that?” The rising screech vibrated through the speaker. She could picture her mom’s hand flailing. “Did you crash someone’s car again? Is Gary covering it up for you?”
Clenching her fist inside the hoodie pocket, Julia moved toward the fern on the filing cabinet. “This is our problem. Mom, you don’t trust me, but you trust Uncle Gary. Why would you trust your brother and not your daughter?”
A sigh sailed through, and Julia held her breath, hoping her hurt traveled across the airwaves too. “You’re a teenager, and I know what I was like. At your age, nobody believes you. I did a lot I’m not proud of, and”—a small cough cut into her words—“you are so much like me without Christ that I struggle to believe you won’t make the mistakes I did.”
How could she think…? Julia closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “If we’re being real, you barely know me. We live in the same house, but we barely talk without it becoming tough. I don’t know who you were when you were my age. You don’t talk about it. You just say you don’t want me to become the old you. When I don’t know her, how can I not be her?”
“Sometimes, when you don’t know, it’s best.” Defensive now, her mom’s voice came across hard, then softened. “We should talk. I’m making dinner, so when we finish eating tonight, I may tell you a few things. It might be hard for me, but maybe it’s time you learned some things.”
“But aren’t you going for the usher board meeting tonight? Isn’t tomorrow choir practice and the day after Bible study?” Julia pushed back the tears. She touched the lacy plant. She’d bought it for her uncle’s birthday. “You’d said we’d go through my college applications, and I did them all on my own.”
“Your college applications? Sorry, I forgot, and by the time I remembered, you’d done them. I think we worked double shifts at the pharmacy, and I was so tired that week. Maybe that’s why I forgot.”
It wasn’t the pharmacy. “You had the special program at church, too, and you came home in the wee hours for three days.” Julia choked on the pain of the disappointment she’d sealed in her heart then.
“We did. I’m sorry. If you called my attention, I would’ve taken a look.” Her mom’s voice sobered.
But the pain threatened to take over all of Julia’s heart. Every chance she’d attempted to engage her mom in her life had been ruined. She could strike up a closer relationship with this plant. “Mom, I’ve accepted that you have no time for me, so I had to take care of myself. You are always in church, praying and singing!”
“Sweetie…” What was that tone? Cajoling? Chastising? Whimpering? How would Julia know? She barely knew her mother. “You want me to pray. Don’t take it out on God or the church. I need them. The mom you have today wouldn’t exist if Jesus didn’t make me who I am.”
That was just it! She plucked the tip of one frond and crushed it beneath her fingertips. “I don’t know who you were. I just know the mom I wake up with every day who asks more about her brother than me!”
“You’ve always been an independent child. Moreover, the meeting for tonight was postponed. I can make time for you when you need me. What I can’t do for you, Jesus can. I am an imperfect parent—and you’re not a perfect child—but I’m doing the best I can. And, if you let Jesus into your heart, He’ll fill in the empty spaces I cannot. Julia—”
Her fingers twitched to clamp over her ears. “No! You wouldn’t make time for me even if you had all the time in the world. I waited for such a long time to see whether you’d notice that I wanted to spend time with you five Christmases ago. You only turned on Christmas songs and sang to them while I watched. I was shattered.”
A sharp inhale sucked air through the speakers. “Oh, I remember. You were so quiet. You didn’t say anything. I thought you were enjoying it. I didn’t know I’d hurt you.” Her mom sighed. “This isn’t the time to talk about this.”
“Sure, Mom.” Julia shook her head even knowing her mom couldn’t see it as her heart sank further. Didn’t matter. Her mom wouldn’t see her even if they were in the same room. Every conversation was like this—her mother speaking to someone she never bothered to see. “The time was always never. I can’t keep waiting to climb your list of priorities. Gary can stay at the top. I love him, but I can’t play second place to him in your heart anymore. I’ve got to go.”
“Julia…”
As her mom’s voice trailed off, Julia ended the call. Her mom was right. This was the wrong time and wrong place for this. Maybe she’d go home. Maybe Mom would make time this time. Or Julia might get disappointed yet again.
&nb
sp; She eyed the fern that couldn’t answer her questions any more than her mom would—the plant that wouldn’t understand her or trust her any more than her mom did. Part of her wanted to knock it over, shatter the pot holding its roots so it would notice her. But nothing would make Mom pay attention to her.
Decisions assailed her as she strode toward the door, working to keep from bursting into tears. Then Gary shouted, “Your mom should add me to the dinner next weekend. I’ll be coming over.”
Julia paused, inhaled deeply, and tried for a calm voice. “Mom always puts out your share, even when you don’t say you’re coming. You’re forever her baby brother.” Glad he’d been too far to hear the exchange and eager to escape, she stepped out into the sunlight where piercing heat warred with the chill of winter, and suddenly, something rustled like a paper bag. Before she could turn, the bag pulled over her head.
The squeal of tires against the gravel reached her ears, trailed by the sound of a door being pushed open. Her uncle shouted her name from inside the station across the way, but he sounded farther still.
Strong hands gripped her arm, shoved her forward, and forced her feet to climb up into what must be a van. She screamed, “Uncle Gary! Help!”
A punch landed against her face, sparks flew from her eyes, and a needle pricked her arm. Before long, she blacked out.
Chapter Three
Watch and pray… Mark 13:33
* * *
More men came, but Asia would not be taken.
No.
Not without a fight.
Not without screaming.
Not without this market grinding to a halt—however powerless she felt against these men.
But soon, the music turned up loud enough to swallow her screams, and she grew quiet, opting for a more intelligent response. The hand around her arm tightened. Something cold touched her chin, and her vision grew clouded. But her understanding got better now that she was in it.
Those words she’d heard twice now about clothing—words that sent shivers down her spine—were triggers. Triggers for kidnapping.
Now everything else made sense. And her belly churned with the realization of what it meant. But she was caught up in it and had little time to rationalize. And she swore not to go down without a fight. If this fight was going to get loud, she’d get louder than the music if necessary, no matter how high they turned it up.
She would catch somebody’s attention.
The hands on her arm shoved her forward toward the side of the road as foot and vehicular traffic mingled. People slipped past the tussle like it was expected. She threw a helpless glance down the street, but her driver and their ride was too far off. Asia yanked her arm, and while she tried to shake off the man’s strong grip, thoughts swarmed her.
How had this whole neighborhood been emptied and every structure in this entire street remodeled and the previous residents moved out? Then Asia began asking herself more questions.
Why did every tenant of the stores, the apartments, hotels, the shop owners—why did they all move out? Fear nearly seized her harder than the hands she fought now and grew weaker against.
What was the thing that had touched her skin? Definitely some sort of destabilizing agent, as her vision now swam badly.
When she had gotten briefed, she hadn’t paid attention to that detail about the neighborhood’s reconstruction project. It sounded regular—even reasonable—and seemed minor. If they were going to remodel a neighborhood, then sure, they’d probably send everybody away.
Asia hadn’t bothered to ask why. And for that single omission, her life was now in danger.
As realization dawned, she kept moving in the direction they herded her. She jerked sideways, stepping near the curb…just a few more steps, enough to plant her feet closer to the path of safety and security in the valley. But the first man held her strong while the others trailed them. She jerked her arm, and yet his grip held on. Other hands, pressed on her back, kept her moving. Their stubbornness was almost as strong as the still-escalating music.
Yes, this was a network.
Or a criminal gang of kidnappers working like a well-oiled machine.
Everyone there was set to play a part. The stores weren’t stores. The stores were a setup meant to mask the underground trafficking activity going on here in real time. Then the man said again the words she now recognized. “She needs only one change of clothes.” Words she knew meant one thing—a code for her to be disappeared.
Those same words…again? She knew what happened when it was said the first time. She wouldn’t wait to know what would happen now.
Just then, something snapped inside her right as her vision cleared enough for her to spot a footpath. Asia tugged her arm harder this time with all her strength and elbowed the men on both sides of her, knocking them hard enough that they staggered off, yielding her room to run. She ran—and pulled the man still gripping her along with her.
She would not go down without a fight.
Certainly, they’d done this enough times to become professionals at evil. If they took her, this could be the last time anyone heard from her, and this could be the last time anyone saw her. Her driver wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what happened to her. Just like the two missing friends?
A memory flashed through her mind. In the area close to the market, where other girls were said to have gone missing, none of them were ever found nor ever spotted again.
As the man spewed an angry tirade, his green-brown eyes fiery with anger bored into hers. His jaw hardened, and his free palm clenched. She saw it in his eyes. This man would kidnap her—or die trying. She kicked hard at his knee while bumping her head against his. But he still wouldn’t let go. The other men hollered, but they’d fallen behind.
A quick scan of the area showed her that the environment around them was transforming. The other men worked to push back traffic—and section off the part of the street where she and the first man struggled.
They were walling her in, and there was no one to help her.
No one but God.
But…she wasn’t the praying type now like the rest of her family, was she?
She’d always told them she wouldn’t need God. But now, she was in an impossible situation. An introduction before now when she wasn’t under duress might’ve been proper. Asia swallowed some regrets before doing a double flip, which twisted the man’s arm. Should she count her mistakes about this? It had been a mistake to approach a potentially dangerous area without protection and support. And just because it was a marketplace didn’t mean she didn’t need backup.
Caught in a tough spot and seeing the walls close in with no help in sight, she did what she’d seen her family members say they did in tough situations—she called on the only Living God in her heart. God, please help me. Please rescue me!
She didn’t see it, but his sway drew her attention. A bee circled the man’s head. Another followed. A few more followed, and he was forced to release her. As he swatted at the bees, the man got distracted for a moment—but only a moment.
God had answered. A moment was what He gave her, more than enough for her desperate cause.
Seizing that moment, she wrenched her arm further away from his reach as he engaged both his hands against the bees. Asia breathed out a “Thank You, God!” Then she spun and turned on her heels. She kicked at the man’s knee for good measure to disable him should he rid himself of the bees. His friends withdrew from setting up the barricade and rushed to his aid as she ducked sideways, avoiding them. But they concerned themselves more with helping him than following her. To them, she must be replaceable, but him, not.
Spinning toward the narrow area they’d left open, she squeezed through the opening, ran downward, and mingled with the foot traffic.
Asia knew with all her heart that, had God not intervened, there was no way she could’ve gotten out. Only God. And she prayed again for God to strengthen her legs with each step, to help her widen the gap between the men and
her. She would need to make an introduction to God sometime soon. If nothing else, to say thank You.
As she moved, each step she thrust toward the valley brought freedom closer. In her mind’s eye, she could see afresh the desperation and urgency in his eyes, causing her to shudder.
He was sworn to get her. And not to lose her. They hadn’t likely lost captives before.
Scripture she’d heard her aunt pray came to her, something about the captive of the mighty rescued.… She’d have to seek it on her own. Her aunt would see her question about it as an opportunity for a Bible study. But Asia had just taken her first step toward God. She wished to be sure He wanted a closer interaction before diving in. But she could admit this: This had been divine intervention. And she learned something: Divine intervention was something God did, not because He had to, but just out of His love and mercy for her. Her deliverance today was divine intervention. It was time to probe, learn, and know more about this God she’d barely heard of, but who’d helped her now, miles from home.
Lost in thought as her feet thudded in rapid beats against the asphalt, she bumped her shoulder against one stranger and then another, but she kept on walking. Hearing a yell echo behind her, Asia refused to turn. Instead, she walked faster, heart pounding and adrenaline racing through her. Every part of her was shaking.
