The Girl Who Was Taken

by Charlie Donlea

  The night before Matt Wellington’s party, Jessica and Rachel got together to sit by Rachel’s pool. Nicole told them she couldn’t make it, marking the first time all summer the three hadn’t spent Friday on the bay. Nicole used as an excuse her visiting aunt and the ensuing dinner her parents required her to attend. Had she thrown a fit, the way she typically did when forced into something as stupid as dinner with her aunt on a Friday night, she might have wiggled out of it. But the truth was, Rachel’s house and the pool and the bay and spending the summer on the water flirting with high school guys she had no interest in just didn’t do it for her anymore. Those times felt like they had passed her by. The summers on the bay were in the past, and the magical moments that seemed to come every day when they were younger came less often now, until the whole scene became pointless and boring.

  Nicole got home from dinner around ten p.m. She promptly locked her bedroom door and logged on to her computer. She was supposed to talk with him tonight, and it caused her to ache with anticipation.

  A few minutes into her solitude there was a knock on her door.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to say good night to Aunt Paxie?” Nicole’s mother asked.

  “Good night, Aunt Paxie!” she shouted from her desk.

  “Good night, Nicole.”

  Nicole listened to her mother and aunt shuffle away from her closed bedroom door. She’d seen, earlier in the evening, her mother shake her head at the restaurant when Aunt Paxie asked about Nicole’s black hair and black eyeliner and black lipstick. “Just ignore it,” she heard her mother say under her breath.

  That’s all her mother and aunt ever did, ignore things. What else could explain Aunt Paxie’s presence in North Carolina for the past three days without mentioning Julie? Ignore anything long enough, and it will go away. It was her mother’s unspoken motto.

  When Nicole heard no more whispers outside her door, she pecked at her keyboard and found the chat room where they normally talked. Sometimes they moved around, at his urging, to different spots online, as if someone were stalking them and spying on their conversations.

  Hey. You around? she typed.

  It took a few minutes, but then the response came.

  Nikki C! Where you been?

  Trying to find you. You’ve been hiding from me.

  Ha! LOL. You’re the mysterious one. So what’s going on, sweet thing?

  Not once had Nicole heard his voice, but still she loved when he called her that. No boy at Emerson Bay High would have the courage to talk to her that way. Most could barely hold eye contact, let alone engage in a full conversation. Flattering her with a nickname was something out of the realm of high school banter, which was why Nicole had no FOMO about anything happening tonight on Emerson Bay. This was the only place she wanted to be, and the only person she wanted to talk with. She typed.

  Been busy with my friends, but they’re getting SO boring lately. Do I sound like a bitch?

  A hot one. I saw the picture you posted. You’ve got a great body, and your face is gorgeous.

  Thanks. When can I see you?

  I’m way too shy to post a pic.

  How about we meet, then?

  Much better idea. Your aunt still visiting?

  Yeah. Leaves tomorrow. Had to do the whole dinner thing. So over her being here.

  She’s the one whose kid got snatched?

  Their conversations always ended up here. This was a big topic for them and they talked—or typed—for hours about it. He was the only one in Nicole’s life who was willing to engage her about the subject. Aunt Paxie had been here since Tuesday, and hadn’t once mentioned her daughter. Fine, Nicole reasoned, it was eight years ago. Fine, it still depressed her. Paxie didn’t want to turn the visit—her first since Julie went missing all those years ago—into a sobfest. All understandable. But Aunt Paxie hadn’t even mentioned Julie. Not once. Ignore, ignore, ignore, and the problem will go away.

  Nicole finally typed. Yeah.

  What was her name?

  Julie.

  Your cousin?

  Yeah.

  You guys were close?

  We used to visit each other when we were kids. Mostly it was just our moms getting together, but Julie and I always considered them our trips. I remember riding on the airplane next to my mom and just feeling so excited to see her. Then, with our mothers preoccupied, catching up as long-lost sisters who only saw each other twice a year, Julie and I would stay up until midnight, chase fireflies, and sit around the bonfire while our moms got drunk on wine and relived their childhoods.

  Nicole watched the screen after typing so much of her heart and her childhood onto the page. Finally, the reply came.

  Sounds fun.

  It was.

  How old was she?

  When she disappeared? Nine.

  Tell me about it.

  God it felt good to finally talk to someone about this.

  Don’t really know a lot ’cause my mom never gave me any details. Guess she thought I was too young. I’ve looked for stories about her on the Internet, but there’s not much. They never had any leads. Julie just disappeared one day walking home from school.

  Common route.

  Nicole looked at the screen for a moment before replying. What’s that?

  Perps use common routes to take kids because they’re predictable. Whoever took Julie knew she would be walking that exact route on that exact day. Guy probably watched her for a long time while he plotted the take.

  That’s freaky.

  Totally. He probably waited and watched and calculated who Julie walked with and at which points during the walk home from school she was alone. Framed his window of opportunity perfectly, then . . .

  There was a small pause in the typing.

  They ever find the guy?

  No.

  Julie?

  Another short pause before Nicole typed again.

  No one ever saw her again.

  Sad.

  Nicole stared at the screen and at the word sad as it popped up in the dialog box. She typed.

  Still miss her.

  Ever think about what Julie went through? Try to put yourself in that situation?

  Nicole watched as the question popped onto her screen. This was why she was helplessly addicted to their conversations. She’d thought about this very thing for years. She wondered how Julie was taken and how she felt when she realized she wasn’t going home. She wondered if Julie climbed into his car by herself, or if he forced her. She wondered where he took her and what he did to her. Morbidly, she thought about these things. During the days and sometimes when she slept at night. Mostly, she and Julie chased fireflies in her dreams, but within the darker imaginings were murky images of Julie crying in a dim closet, too scared to push open the door and run for help.

  Finally, Nicole’s fingers moved over the keyboard.

  All the time.

  Long pause.

  Me too. I think about my brother, Joshua. Picture him in some dark place, scared and all alone. It makes me want to cry but I can’t stop thinking about it. Does that make us weird? These thoughts?

  I don’t know. I don’t think so. Better than pretending Julie never existed, the way my mother and aunt do.

  Nicole sat still and waited for a reply. Finally, it came.

  I’ve got a secret, if you promise to keep it.

  I promise.

  Nicole stared at the screen. There was a short pause before Casey’s reply popped up.

  I know a club.

  Oh yeah? What kind of club?

  The kind I think you’d really like.

  CHAPTER 7

  July 2016

  Four Weeks Before the Abduction

  Actually a chain of four lochs connected to one another by channels, Emerson Bay was the largest and most populated, and ran via the Chowan River to the Atlantic Ocean. Homes colonized the shores and were stacked deep inland away from the bay. Matt Wellington’s house sat on the ban
ks of Emerson Bay and, like Rachel Ryan’s, was a sprawling hillside estate whose backyard spilled down to the water’s edge. By ten p.m., Saturday night’s party was in full swing.

  The Wellingtons’ pool was dug into the side of the hill, with boulders and granite creating a backdrop where the bulldozer had cut into the earth. Spotlights highlighted the granite, and underwater bulbs made visible the kicking legs of kids treading water in the deep end. Girls screamed as they sat on guys’ shoulders for chicken fights. Matt Wellington’s parents made an appearance every so often, walking out to the pool to check on things. The kids resorted to sneaking beers down by the bay. Stairs cut through the hill and led to the water. Out of sight from the house, a cooler filled with cold Budweiser was quickly losing its bulk as kids chugged beer, squashed the cans, and tossed them in the bay.

  Megan McDonald sat with her friends at a patio table. Some girls walked around in bikini tops and cutoff shorts. The bolder ones lost the shorts and paraded around in full bikinis.

  “She’s a total slut,” Megan said. “Look at her.”

  Megan was hanging with her cheer team friends, a huddle of ten girls. They watched Matt hoist Nicole Cutty onto his shoulders by dipping his head underwater and swimming between her legs before standing, his hands firmly planted on her thighs. Nicole screamed as she wrestled Jessica Tanner, who was sitting on Tyler Elliot’s shoulders.

  At some point during the chicken fight, Nicole reached over and pulled Jessica’s bikini down to expose her breast. The boys hooted at the skin show before Jessica screamed and fell backward into the water, one arm crossed over her bare chest, the other extended straight at Nicole with her middle finger raised until the deep end swallowed her.

  “Who does that?” Megan asked.

  “They’re so desperate for attention,” Stacey Morgan said.

  “And they’re getting it. She’s going to end up pregnant before she’s twenty. Just watch.”

  “They call her Slutty Cutty for a reason. Half of Emerson Bay would have to take a paternity test to determine the father.”

  This got the cheer team laughing. Megan and Stacey split off and headed down toward the bay. They each grabbed a Budweiser and sipped the awful-tasting stuff for ten minutes while they watched boys skip crushed empties across the water. From behind her, Matt grabbed Megan around the waist and hugged her tight. Soaking wet from the pool, he dripped all over her.

  “You haven’t even said hi to me yet,” he said in her ear.

  “That’s because you’ve been too busy with the topless girls in your pool.”

  Matt picked her up, Megan’s back pressed firmly to his chest. “I’m throwing you in the bay for that comment,” he said as he penguin-walked her along the dock.

  “Throw me in and you’re dead,” Megan said calmly.

  Matt kept walking closer to the water. At the edge of the dock, he rocked her back and forth. “One. Twoooo. Three!” He lifted her up and pretended to throw her in the water. Megan screamed. When he let her go, she turned with a smile and slapped his shoulder.

  “I would’ve killed you,” Megan said.

  “Yeah,” Nicole said, coming down the stairs. She was also soaking wet, just out of the pool. With her breasts spilling from her bikini top, her bottoms straight across her flat stomach, and the string of dock lights reflecting off her skin, Megan admitted she was gorgeous. On the outside. Inside, Nicole Cutty was ugly. She was a bully. The type of person Megan’s parents always taught her not to be, and not to be around. Nicole Cutty was the type of person Megan had created the retreat to fight against.

  “How would she explain to her police-chief daddy that she ended up in the water with all her clothes on?”

  “I wasn’t going to throw you in,” Matt said, still smiling and ignorant of the rivalry.

  “Where’s your bathing suit, anyway?” Nicole asked. “You know this is a pool party?”

  “Thanks,” Megan said. “I figured that out.”

  “So where’s your suit?”

  “On my body, I just don’t feel the need to parade around in it.”

  “Figures.” Nicole laughed. “It doesn’t take a bikini top for everyone to see you’re flat-chested.” Nicole grabbed a beer from the cooler. “Get over it or ask Daddy for some implants.”

  “Shut up, Nicole,” Stacey said.

  Nicole popped the beer. “Or, since you guys are so scared of swimsuits, maybe you’ll join us later when we go skinny-dipping in the bay.” She laughed again. “Right! The cheer princesses skinny-dipping.” Nicole walked up the stairs. “Matt, tell your buddies we’re getting naked at midnight.”

  Stacey made an ugly face as Nicole walked up the stairs. “It must be tough when everything you have going for yourself is in your tits.”

  Ignoring the comment, Nicole looked over her shoulder as she ascended the stairs, hips swaying back and forth, and stared at Matt. “You better be in that water with us.”

  Megan looked at Matt once Nicole was gone. “She’s such a slut. I can’t believe you hang out with her.”

  “Nicole?” Matt said, laughing it off. “She’s cool. Just has, like, a chip on her shoulder about something. Wants to fit in like everyone else. Blow her off.”

  Jessica Tanner came down the stairs, smiling as she watched Nicole saunter past. Jessica grabbed a beer. “Don’t let her bother you,” she said to Megan. “She’s got a thing for you.”

  “For me?” Megan said.

  “She thinks you’re an elitist. . . .” Jessica opened her palms and shrugged her shoulders. “Or something. Too good to hang with anyone but, you know, your little group. Like Matt said. Just blow her off. She’s harmless.”

  “Isn’t she your friend?” Stacey asked.

  “Yes. Best friend.” Jessica smirked. “But I’m not a zealot. I can admit when my friend is being a bitch.” Jessica popped her beer. “I think that’s what Nicole hates about your clique. Defending each other no matter what. It irks her.” Jessica took a sip of beer. “Me too, sometimes. But hey,” Jessica said as she headed back up the stairs. “Wanna shut her up? Call her bluff about skinny-dipping.”

  It was eleven thirty p.m. when the first group swam out to the raft. It floated twenty-five yards off Matt’s dock and, lighted by a halogen bulb stuck to the top of the flagpole that stood in its center, the raft was a beacon of light in the otherwise dark bay. Made from thick pinewood, it was a small patio deck floating on Emerson Bay, attached and secured to the bottom by a long chain. Two of the guys floated the cooler out and hoisted it up on the deck. It was only a few minutes before a melee broke out among the guys, pushing one another into the water, backflipping and belly flopping. The girls screamed as they huddled on one side of the raft and allowed the boys to play King of the Hill, which Matt—captain of the wrestling team—won without contest. Next was the girls’ turn, as the guys playfully pushed them into the water. Some fought back, but resistance brought the attention of two or three guys who carried the girl by the armpits and ankles to heave her over the side.

  Once things calmed down, they all sat around the edge of the raft dangling their feet into the water. Beers were popped and chugged and things quieted down. The same scene played out every time this group got together at a bay party; someone always talked about skinny-dipping. The boys outnumbered the girls on the raft—twelve to eight—all hoping for the girls to magically slip out of their suits and jump in. They would all do the same, they promised. Dares and challenges and compromises were usually laid down before the group finally got bored and swam back, the journey to the raft resulting in nothing more than a good swim and some laughs.

  At Matt’s urging, Megan and Stacey, along with three other cheerleaders, had floated out to the raft. Jessica, Nicole, and Rachel also took the swim, and together they made up the group of eight girls. Now, with the twenty kids sitting around, legs dangling in the water and the raft ebbing with the subtle waves of the bay, they broke off into separate conversations. Megan sat next to Matt and they talked
about Duke. He, too, was headed there in the fall and they were each happy to know a familiar face would be close. They had never formally dated, although last summer they got together a few times with mutual friends and had gone to see The Martian together, which was termed a date only after they kissed in Matt’s car. But as popular as they each were, they somehow never managed to be comfortable with each other. So senior year passed with them as friends, both waiting for more to happen, but never getting there.

  “So who’s doing it?” Nicole asked the group after twenty minutes on the raft. “Didn’t we all swim out here for a reason?”

  “You go first,” one of the guys challenged.

  “Please,” Nicole said with a dismissive smirk. “I’m not worried about me, I just don’t want to be the only naked person in the lake. I want naked guys with me, but you’re all too scared to drop trou.” Nicole looked at Jessica and Rachel. “Shrinkage? It’s so dark, we won’t be able to see your little guys anyways.”

  Jason Miller stood up and walked over to her. “You go, then I’ll go.”

  Another ugly face. “Right, I’ll get naked so you can watch me jump in. Then you’ll sit down with your buddies, too scared of the woody in your shorts to jump in yourself.”

  “You’re all talk, Cutty. We’ll do it at the same time.”

  The debate went back and forth about who would remove their swimsuit first and in what order. Then came the rules about where to place the discarded clothing, and that no one could touch the suits or there would be hell to pay.

  During the back and forth, Megan turned to Stacey. “Let’s just do it.”

  “Really?” Stacey said with a smile.

  Matt joined in. “Let’s just friggin’ do it, shut them all up.”

  “Yeah,” Tyler Elliot said, looking at Stacey.

  “Fine,” Stacey agreed, and in one unified movement of twisting arms and legs they each dumped their suits onto the deck of the raft before anyone knew they had done so.

  “See you, suckers!” Matt yelled as they all jumped in the lake. When the group looked over, they saw a brief glimpse of bare butts, shadowed by the night, until the splash erased everything from view. The four of them laughed as they swam away from the raft, protected by the dark water.