She's Gone: A Novel

by Emmens, Joye

  “Sounds crazy.”

  “I sometimes wonder how they’re all doing.”

  She wished she could write to Deidre. She thought of all the people they had deceived and all of the people they continued to deceive. She’d lied about her age, running away and her last name. Her name never sounded right when she said it. The lies hung like a cloud over her.

  “Don’t you stay in touch with them?”

  “I never really felt like I was part of it. The big experiment.” She wanted to be honest with Charlie and tell him everything. He made her feel protected and was never judgmental. But she couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

  He sat silently at the kitchen table, gazing into space. “You okay?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I think about my Nam buddies constantly. Each and everyone was a friend. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I’m back there, standing on the skid, high above the jungle, the cool breeze whipping through me and I just want to go back.”

  “You really think that? That you want to go back?”

  “It feels like a part of me is still there. It’s hard to get adjusted here.”

  She walked over to him, leaned down and gave him a hug. “No, you’re staying here, Charlie. You’re not going back there. We’re your friends now.”

  Over dinner the conversation flowed, first about music and then to the upcoming draft lottery. The lottery would determine which men born in 1951 would be called for military duty. Jolie thought of her older brother. He had been born in 1951.

  “In the past six months only half the inductees have shown up at the induction centers,” Will said. “And of those that do show up, over ten percent refuse to go.”

  “What happens if you refuse? Do they arrest you? Isn’t it better to just not show up?” Jolie asked.

  “There’s a lot of confusion and misinformation,” Sam said.

  “We should start a Question and Answer column in the paper,” Adam said.

  “You have your first question,” Ginger said.

  “It would add work,” Adam said.

  “It might be worth it to set any misinformation straight,” Will said.

  Jolie raised her glass. “We can call it ‘Letters to the Underground’.”

  “We can get some Harvard law students to do research for us,” Charlie said.

  Will cocked his head and looked at Jolie. “Jolie has a law student friend at Harvard, don’t you?”

  She was caught off guard by his tone. The others looked at Will and then to Jolie.

  “Yes, I do,” she said, meeting Will’s gaze and then looking around at the others. “His name is Nick.” Why was he uneasy about her friends and her outside interests? How could they possibly threaten him? She caught Charlie’s eye and he grimaced.

  “So it’s agreed,” Adam said and raised his glass “‘Letters to the Underground’ is officially launched.”

  After the toast, Ginger turned to Jolie. “What do you plan to do in New York?”

  Will gazed at Ginger quizzically, “New York? We’re not going to New York.”

  Jolie rushed in. “Leah and Sarah are driving down over the Fourth of July weekend. Leah’s Mom invited me to stay with them. They all want me to go.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Let’s talk about it later,” Jolie said, glancing around the room. Ginger mouthed “sorry”.

  Later in their room, Will was somber. “Why didn’t you tell me about the trip to New York?”

  “You’ve been so busy. I really want to go.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want you being away from me.”

  “It’s only a weekend.”

  “What were you planning to do there?”

  She frowned. A feeling that she was in trouble and talking to her father swept over her. His tone sounded like her father’s when he didn’t approve of something. She didn’t like hearing it in Will’s voice. “Go to art museums and vintage clothing stores and eat lots of home cooked food.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “What could happen? We’ll be at Leah’s parents’ house on our best behavior.” She wasn’t looking forward to going back to New York after their first experience, but the need to call home was overpowering.

  “I thought you didn’t like New York, or did your little friends change your mind?”

  Little friends? “It will be different this time. I’ll have a place to stay, good food to eat and money to spend.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  Ginger was right. He did have her on a tight leash. But she had to go. She’d been writing the letter home in her head for weeks. And she wanted to call and hear her parents’ voices. New York was her opportunity.

  31

  I Got a Feeling

  Jolie emerged from the busy restaurant when her shift ended and headed straight for the T. On the crowded sidewalk, someone tugged her right arm. She drew back violently.

  “Hey,” Will pulled her toward him. “It’s me.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  He let go of his grasp. “Taking you out to dinner.”

  “What’s the occasion?” She rubbed her arm.

  “You’re always cooking for everyone.”

  “I like to cook.”

  “Yes, but not tonight.”

  They wandered around the Square, savoring the warm evening. Fragrant garlic and herb scents spilled out to the sidewalk. They followed the aroma to an Italian restaurant and were seated by the window. A candle flickered in a red glass holder on a green-and-white checkered table cloth. She smiled. The tablecloth and candle were similar to the ones her mother used when she cooked Italian food and they ate outside on the patio.

  She glanced over the menu at Will. Taking her out to dinner? It wasn’t like him. Despite the tightening in her stomach, her mouth watered at the profusion of choices. They ordered and ate warm bread from a basket.

  “Let’s talk about the trip to New York,” Will said.

  Her body was taut on the chair. She had to contact her family.

  He studied her. “You can go...but I have an errand for you.”

  “An errand?”

  “I have a letter for you to deliver to Leon. You met him at the house a while ago. We know our phones are tapped so I can’t call and I don’t trust the mail.”

  “Leon? I’m not sure I remember what he looks like.”

  “He’s tall with brown hair.”

  “That sounds like half of New York.”

  “Don’t worry, he’ll remember you.” Will smiled.

  He reached for her hand and walked her through the instructions. She was to call Leon and set up a meeting place near Leah’s house and hand him the envelope. She was to go alone. Leon would be expecting her call.

  Relief poured out of her. She was going to New York. Goose bumps spread up her arms as she envisioned the call home. And she’d be helping Will too.

  Their salads arrived and Will said nothing more about the trip. He changed the subject and proceeded to tell her that when he went into the office that morning, there was no dial tone on either phone. The phone service had been shut off.

  “Did you pay the phone bill?”

  “Of course, those are our life lines. I called the phone company from a pay phone and they said service would be restored in a few days.” He paused and leaned in closer. “I think someone is messing with us.”

  She glanced around the restaurant. “Like the FBI?”

  Will nodded. “The phone company was very vague about why we were shut off and how soon service would be restored. They seemed confused about the whole thing.”

  “That’s scary.”

  When they finished dinner, they walked hand in hand down the avenue toward Central Square. It was dark now, and the street li
ghts cast a mellow glow on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t want to take the subway tonight,” Will said. “Too many people underground.” He put out his thumb to hitch a ride.

  Apprehension filled her. She’d never hitchhiked in Cambridge before and certainly not at night. “The subway isn’t crowded this late.”

  “I can’t go down with the moles.”

  The moles? She did it every day. Twice a day sometimes.

  A dark-colored, two-door Mustang pulled over. Will opened the passenger door and bent down. The driver was a stocky white man in his forties.

  “Going near Central Square?” Will asked.

  “Sure, hop in.”

  Will flipped the passenger seat forward to let Jolie into the back seat. She slid in. Will sat shotgun and made small talk with the man. They had absolutely nothing in common, but Will could talk with anyone. With only a slit for a window in the back seat, Jolie peered out the front. The driver’s silhouette was lit from the dashboard. He wore a suit and his buzz cut looked military.

  A few blocks later, the driver stopped at a red light and looked over his right shoulder at Jolie. “You’re a buxom young thing. Do you swing?”

  Alarmed, she sat up rigid. Swing? Did he say swing? “No.”

  The driver looked at Will. “How about you?”

  “No.”

  The light turned green, and the man drove on. Jolie leaned forward in the dark, reached around Will’s right side, and squeezed his shoulder.

  “We’ll get out here,” Will said. “Thanks for the ride.”

  The man looked straight ahead as if in a trance and kept driving.

  “Pull over, we’ll get out here,” Will said.

  “No, I’ll get you closer.” The man continued to drive.

  “Stop the car, we’re getting out,” Will demanded.

  With a sudden turn, the man pulled over and double parked. The engine idled. Will got out and started to depress the latch to flip the seat forward for Jolie. The driver stepped on the gas. Tires screeched and the door closed with the abrupt surge. He drove off into the night.

  Will’s shouts grew faint as he sprinted behind the car. Frantic, Jolie struggled with the seat latch and screamed for the man to stop and let her out. His right hand flailed at her in the back seat. She cowered in the corner to avoid his blows.

  “Shut up.”

  She continued to scream.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Panic set in. She stopped screaming and looked out the front window. Trapped in the back seat, she had to get a grip and come up with a plan. Think, think, how could she get out of there? Where was he taking her? Her heartbeat hammered in her ears. The city no longer looked familiar. The horror of her situation numbed her thoughts.

  A few miles later, he turned off the main street into a residential neighborhood. After three blocks he pulled into a driveway of a single family home. The car lights shone on a large two story brick house.

  Did he live there? She stared straight ahead, terrified. Now what? He turned off the engine.

  “Please let me go, just let me go now.”

  “Stop talking. If you so much as utter a sound, I swear I’ll strangle you. Understand?” His entire persona had changed. His voice was low and deliberate, venomous. In the back seat, she nodded and clutched her purse. He got out, opened the passenger door, and pulled the seat forward. “Get out.” He was like a demon in the darkness.

  When she didn’t move, he reached in, grabbed her arm, and yanked her. His strength propelled her out of the car and she stumbled against him. She cried out wincing at the pain that shot through her arm from his powerful grasp. Her leg scraped against the car frame. He shut the door and dragged her up the dark front porch steps. She frantically searched the neighborhood hoping to see someone who could help her. Not a soul was in sight.

  In the dark, the man struggled with his keys in the first of three locks. Dread paralyzed her. Who had three locks? He briefly released his grasp on her arm, needing two hands to open the lock. When it clicked open, he grabbed her arm again and shoved her back against the house, facing him. She had missed her opportunity to escape.

  He inserted the key into the second lock and once again released his grip to turn the lock. It was now or never. She swung her knee hard into his groin. It met its mark. He cried out and doubled over in pain as she dashed down the stairs. On the sidewalk, she sprinted in the direction of what she thought was the main street.

  Adrenaline surged through her. He shouted something but she didn’t dare look back or slow her pace. His shouts grew louder. She ran harder. Keep running, keep running, keep running.

  She passed people on the sidewalk but did not slow down. Block after block she ran, faster and faster, her purse rhythmically hitting her hip. She no longer heard his shouts. Had he stopped? She quickly glanced back.

  A few people were on the street, but no one was running after her. When she reached the main street she did not slow down. Two blocks later a T station sign beckoned from the corner. With an extra surge, she raced to it and ducked down the stairs into the subway station.

  Stopping at the turnstile, she gasped for breath. She never liked it underground in the subway with the hordes of people, but now they would shield her. Her lungs burned from the exertion. She glanced anxiously at the steps, expecting to see the man at any moment. She scrambled for a token in her purse, inserted it and slid through the turnstile. She stood next to the tracks, blending in with the others. On the map, the big circle rested on North Quincy, the Red Line. Her eyes remained glued to the entrance, and her heart thudded in her chest. Time stood still until she finally heard the train approach.

  At her stop, she emerged up the steps. She would not feel safe until she was home. Her instinct was to run the last three blocks to the house. Instead, she hurriedly walked home. Would Will be there? As she approached the house, she saw two figures on the steps. She slowed her pace.

  One figure stood. “Jolie?” It was Daniel.

  The other stood and ran to her. “Oh, thank God,” Will said and hugged her to him.

  She had never seen him so distraught.

  Daniel spoke up. “Will didn’t know what to do. He was paralyzed. I don’t know why he wouldn’t call the police right away. One more minute and I would have.”

  Her body began to tremble. “What would he have done to me?”

  He held her tighter. “I don’t want to think about it.”

  32

  Fireworks

  On Friday morning, Jolie paced back and forth on the back porch while Will slept. Her bag was packed for New York. The letter to her parents was tucked in the bottom, and the sealed envelope for Leon, along with his phone number, was in the side pocket. Feeling guilty about leaving Will for the weekend, she went into the kitchen and made a double batch of chocolate chip cookies. He could take some into the office for Charlie and Adam and the others.

  Will came up behind her and put his arms around her. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  She inhaled and her body stiffened. “Don’t worry. I’m not hitchhiking. I’m never hitchhiking again.”

  The terror of that night played in her mind like a movie that wouldn’t stop. She had wanted to find his house again and call the police. Daniel encouraged her to report it. He kept insisting that they had a description of the car, and she could probably locate the neighborhood again. But the police could unveil her secret, her true identity. It weighed heavily on her that the evil man was still out there and other girls could fall victim. The day before she had finally gotten up the nerve and used a pay phone in Harvard Square to call the police. She described the car, the man and his North Quincy neighborhood and the three locks on the door. The officer on the phone thanked her and encouraged her to come in to the station. In a panic she hung up.

  “I don’t want you to g
o.” She felt his body shift behind her and he held her tighter.

  She stared straight ahead and willed herself to be strong. “I’m going. Leah is picking me up at ten.” He turned her around and looked into her eyes.

  “Leah said we’re going to the watch the fireworks tomorrow from a rooftop.” She was looking forward to it. Anything to get her mind off the attempted kidnapping.

  “Oh, so you’re getting all patriotic now?” From his sly grin, she knew he was kidding.

  Around ten, a horn honked out front. “They’re here,” she said.

  Will held her by the shoulders facing him. “I’ll miss you. Make sure you call Leon. The letter has to be delivered tomorrow.”

  She nodded and picked up her pack and camera. “Bye.” She grabbed a bag of warm cookies and bounded down the stairs to the waiting car.

  Jolie hopped into the back seat of the white Chevy Nova. She looked up at the house. Will’s imposing figure stood in the living room window, watching them. She waved to him. Leah and Sarah waved, too. Will smiled and flashed the peace sign as they drove off.

  “He’s so handsome,” Leah said.

  “Is he a real revolutionary?” Sarah asked.

  “I guess if the FBI thinks you’re a revolutionary, maybe you are,” Jolie said.

  “The FBI?” Leah and Sarah said in unison.

  “Just kidding,” Jolie said.

  Leah drove south on I-93. James Taylor crooned from the radio. Jolie sank back into the seat. They were going to New York.

  “I can’t wait to go to SoHo and check out the vintage clothing stores. You have me hooked now,” Leah said.

  “Me too. Look at this cool blouse I got at the vintage store by our house,” Sarah said, tugging at the sleeve of her blouse.

  Jolie peered over the seat at Sarah’s silk blouse. Delicate beading adorned the scooped neckline. “Good find.”

  “My mother is so excited we’re coming. She’s making a ton of food. She said she wants to fatten you up.”

  Jolie sat back and listened to the music while Leah and Sarah talked. She was nervous about going back to New York, but knew she would be safe staying at Leah’s parents. It was going to be a good weekend. If she could just get the image of that evil man out of her head.