Forsaken

by James David Jordan

  “It’s one thing that matters; it’s not all that matters.”

  “It’s all that matters to me.”

  Kacey got up and went to the window, which overlooked a courtyard where many of the media had set up their equipment. She stood with her arms folded for a few moments. Then she turned and faced Simon. “I want to talk to the press.”

  “What?” Simon looked at me.

  I raised an eyebrow but kept my mouth shut.

  He propped himself on one elbow. “Why would you want to talk to the press?”

  “I had a lot of time to think during the past week. There was nothing else to do but think and pray and be scared. One of the things that I thought about was how I would describe what happened if I ever got out of there. I would like to do that.”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Simon said. “You don’t have any experience with the press. What would you tell them?”

  “That the guys who took me are cowards; that they didn’t have the guts to talk to me or let me see their faces. I want to tell them how they did this.” She held up her bandaged hand. Her face flushed. “I want to tell them what kind of people did this to me—and to you. I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry.” She covered her face with her hands.

  “Oh, Kace, come here.” He held out his arms. She moved over, sat on the edge of the bed, and leaned into him. After a few moments he eased her away and looked her in the eye. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything. They’re criminals. They did this; you didn’t. I don’t ever want you to feel a bit guilty about this.” He pulled a tissue out of a box on the end table next to his bed and handed it to her. “I still don’t think talking to the press would be such a good idea, though.”

  I stood up. “I think you should let her do it.”

  They turned and looked at me as if they had completely forgotten I was in the room. I’d never seen Simon really lose his temper, but I figured that if he was ever going to, this was a likely time. He tilted his head to one side and frowned. An explanation was called for, and fast.

  “Kacey went through a lot. If she wants a chance to tell people about it, I think it’s great. Number one, it could help her deal with everything. Number two, any chance we get to expose these people for what they really are, we should take it. Besides, what’s the press going to do to her? She’s a twenty-year-old kid who just survived a kidnapping. They’ll handle her with kid gloves.” I waited for the explosion.

  Simon leaned back on his pillow. He ran his hand over his head and squinted at the ceiling. After a few moments, he turned toward us. “You’re right, Taylor. If you really want to do this, Kace, I’m okay with it.”

  I exhaled.

  “I do want to.”

  He wagged a finger at her. “It won’t do any good, though, if you lose your temper. Can you keep your composure? Because if you can’t, this will be a disaster.”

  “I can do it.”

  “We’ll have to clear this with Michael,” I said. “We need to be sure it won’t affect the investigation. There may be information Kacey shouldn’t give out. I’ll call him.”

  I pulled out my cell phone and made the call. Within minutes I had the okay from Michael. His only instructions were that she stay away from information about specific locations and times.

  Simon picked up his cell phone and punched a number. “Elise? Kacey is going to talk to the press with me tomorrow, so you can let them know. I’m sure that will increase attendance by about fifty percent.” He paused. “Yes, nine o’clock would be great. Then I can check out of this place. Thanks.”

  He clicked off the phone. “She’s going to set something up outside if the weather is okay. There isn’t any place in the building that could handle all the press for something like this.”

  Simon turned to Kacey. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine. I’ll sit next to you. If you decide you want to stop at any time, you just let me know and I’ll end it. We can go over some things tonight, like sitting up straight and keeping your voice loud enough.”

  Kacey nodded. “I guess I’ll stay at the house tonight. This cot isn’t the most comfortable.”

  “By yourself? I don’t think that’s going to happen. Why don’t you stay with Meg?”

  “I’ll have to wake up early to get ready for the press conference. I won’t have all of my stuff at Meg’s.” She looked at me. “Can you stay at our house with me tonight?”

  I was taken aback and didn’t know what to say. Simon spoke up. “It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you.”

  “Well, you’ve got the police outside your door here, Simon, so I guess you’ll be fine. Sure, I’d be happy to do it. Kind of like a sleepover, right, Kacey?”

  She pumped a fist. “Yeah, let’s trash the place.”

  “Funny,” Simon said.

  Kacey got up. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She grabbed the overnight bag I brought her, walked around the corner, and closed the door behind her.

  Simon looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

  “She’s got a lot of guts. You’d think she just came back from a tough day at school rather than a kidnapping.”

  “Do you think this is real, or is she holding things in?”

  I shrugged. “She’s got to be holding things in to some extent. No one could be this composed after something that traumatic. I guess only time will tell whether it’s a problem. She’s a tough kid. She’s got a lot of her father in her.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I’m no psychiatrist, but I think that telling the story at the press conference might help her.”

  Kacey came out of the bathroom. Her dark hair was brushed and shiny, and fell smoothly over her shoulders. “How’s this look for my first press conference?”

  I smiled. “You’re gorgeous. But you might be getting ready a little bit early since it’s not until tomorrow morning.”

  Simon frowned. “If you’re going to do this, you have to be serious. If you go out there acting like a princess, they’ll eat you alive.”

  “Give me some credit, Dad.”

  He smiled. “I do, honey. Believe me, I do.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  THAT NIGHT KACEY AND I stayed up too late watching a romantic comedy. We ate buttered popcorn and ridiculous amounts of candy. The next morning we were up early fixing her hair for the press conference. I never had a brother or sister, and I have to admit that it was one of the most fun things I’d done in ten years. We laughed like middle-school girls and spent a full hour picking out just the right outfit. We settled on a blue skirt, white camisole, and yellow crop sweater with three-quarter length sleeves. She was gorgeous and wholesome, the perfect combination for the press conference. I was sorry when it was time to leave.

  The hospital was shaped like a giant letter E, with the long back side of the E in front. The press conference would take place in a courtyard tucked between two of the wings. The building faced east, and in the early morning sun most of the courtyard was in the shade. The air was dry and cool as Kacey, Elise, and I walked out the side door. Behind us a nurse pushed Simon in a wheelchair, his sprained ankle wrapped in a blue boot. Kacey slowed her pace and shivered. I had on a white cotton cardigan, which I took off and draped over her shoulders. We laughed about instantly ruining the “look” we had worked so hard that morning to create.

  “I’m not sure I’m really cold,” she said. “It might just be nerves. Besides, I’d rather freeze to death than cover up my outfit. This is my first time on TV.” She pulled the sweater off and held it out to me.

  “You’ll be fine. You’re going to be sitting in the shade, though, so why don’t you hang onto the sweater in case you need it?”

  She rolled it up and carried it in one hand.

  At least a hundred reporters, photographers, and camera operators stood on the grass, chatting in clusters of two and three. A rope separated them from a long folding table set up with a r
ow of microphones. When the press saw Kacey and Simon, the photographers surged toward the rope, clicking as they moved. The television camera operators slung their cameras onto their shoulders and trotted to the front, twisting and slide-stepping for position.

  Elise stopped next to the table and spoke to a tall, freckled young man with thick red hair. He wore a hospital ID card on a cord around his neck. He pointed toward the rope and shouted, “Let’s keep this organized, folks. We’ll have a few minutes for photos. Then Reverend Mason and Kacey will take some questions.”

  Elise tapped him on the shoulder. He leaned over and she whispered in his ear. He straightened and opened his mouth to speak but stopped, wrinkled his forehead, and leaned over to her again. They whispered some more. Then he held up his index finger. “Correction. Only Kacey will be taking questions today. Reverend Mason will have a separate press conference tomorrow morning at his house.” Elise had talked it over with Simon, and they had agreed that Kacey was likely to have an easier go of it if Simon was not fielding questions with her.

  It was the time of year in North Texas when spring nudges the remaining traces of winter from the landscape for good. Azaleas lined the back wall of the building with dark pink flowers. The lawn was still mostly brown and dormant, crunching beneath our shoes as we walked. But sprigs of new Bermuda poked through here and there, speckling the courtyard with patches of green.

  I stopped short of the table while Kacey and Elise made their way to the folding chairs. They sat behind the microphones. The nurse wheeled Simon next to Kacey. On the press side of the rope, the hospital had lined up ten rows of chairs in a setting that reminded me of a high-school assembly. Within a few minutes the physician who had examined Kacey hurried across the lawn in his blue scrubs to join them at the table.

  After an introductory statement by the doctor and about ten minutes of questions for him, Elise held up a hand. “Dr. Sabbathia has to get back to surgery. Thank you, doctor.” He nodded and got up. “Now, Kacey will take a few questions. Please remember that she’s just a college student and she’s been through a lot more in the past week than most of us will ever experience.”

  Several reporters shouted questions at once. “Let’s take them one at a time, please,” Elise said. She pointed at an Asian woman in the front row.

  “Kacey, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we’re happy you’re safely back with your father.” Several people clapped and before long all of the press members were standing and applauding.

  Kacey blushed. As the applause continued, her eyes filled with tears. She turned to Simon and wrapped her arms around his neck, which led to even louder applause and some whistles. Flashes flickered all over the lawn.

  Elise beamed. I knew that she was picturing the next morning’s front page—either that, or some future family photo with herself in the mom’s slot.

  I mentally kicked myself for being catty.

  When the applause quieted and everyone took their seats, Kacey dabbed at her eyes with my sweater. She looked at Simon and he nodded. She leaned forward to one of the microphones. “Thank you very much. I’ve always heard that the press can be tough, so I wasn’t expecting that.” That drew a laugh. She leaned into the mike again. “I guess people are too hard on you guys.” They roared.

  The red-headed hospital employee stepped over to me and nudged me with his elbow. “You’d think she was a pro.”

  His blue-green eyes had some sparkle, and he appeared to be about my age. I nodded. “She’s pretty amazing.”

  “By the way, I’m Jason.” He held out his hand. I shook it. His handshake was so limp it was like squeezing a peeled banana. That was that.

  “I’m Taylor,” I said as I turned my back on him.

  When the laughter quieted, the reporter went on. “Can you tell us what happened the night of the kidnapping, Kacey?”

  Kacey folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I was in a car with Cheryl Granger on the way to O’Hare. A few minutes after we left the Mid America Center, our car pulled onto a side street. It was very dark—no street lights at all. Another car swerved in front of us, and we had to stop. Three men in black ski masks jumped out of the car in front of us and pulled open the doors on both sides of our car. Two of them dragged me out. They grabbed me under the arms and carried me to the front car where they pushed me down into the floor of the back seat. Someone put a hood over my head, and I couldn’t see what happened to Cheryl. I was glad to hear that she’s all right.”

  A short, stocky man in the second row leaped to his feet. “Did they hit you or abuse you in any way?”

  “They were very rough and held me on the floor by putting their feet on my back. Then, of course, there’s this.” She held up her left hand. In a move that was savvy beyond her years, she’d removed the bandage in the hospital room so the stub of her finger was exposed above the second knuckle. The skin flap over the stub was discolored. Several reporters gasped.

  Others shouted more questions. Elise pointed to an older woman in a cotton dress in the back row.

  “Where did they take you, Kacey?”

  “I don’t know. We drove for what seemed like a long time. At first I tried to count the seconds in my head because I thought it might be important to know how far we’d driven. That didn’t work so well. I was still on the floor. It was very dark. I was too scared to keep counting. I prayed a lot, and that calmed me down some.

  “Then the car stopped. They dragged me out again, just like the first time. They shoved me onto the floor of another car. Then that happened one more time after we had driven a while longer. At one point the hood was pushed so tightly against my face that I couldn’t breathe. When I tried to move, the one with his foot on my head pushed me down even harder. That was the scariest time of all. I thought I was going to suffocate.” She took a drink from one of the bottles of water the hospital had lined up on the table.

  I watched her closely, amazed at her poise. The reporters were captivated. Though we were outside, there was complete silence except for the occasional chirping of a single bird in a tree near the building. Every eye was on Kacey as she set the bottle back on the table—every eye, that is, except Simon’s. He stared down at his hands. A vein in the side of his neck had grown larger and larger as she described the way the kidnappers manhandled her. I wasn’t sure how long he could take this.

  “I was able to move my head enough to find a space where I could get air,” she continued. “Finally the car stopped. They pulled me out again. They squeezed my arms so hard that I have bruises right here.” She pointed to her upper arm, just beneath her shoulder. “They carried me down some stairs into the basement of a house or a duplex or something. They took the hood off my head, and there was a man waiting there. He was tall and thin and wearing a mask just like the rest of them. They pushed me down on a couch. The tall one stuck a needle in my arm. Then everything went dark.”

  “How did they do that to your finger?” This from a man in the back.

  “When I woke up, I was lying in a small bed, with just a sheet and a thin yellow blanket. Two masked men stood over me, looking down at me like I was some sort of insect in a jar. That was another really scary moment. I wasn’t in any pain yet, though. I guess because the anesthetic hadn’t worn off. They didn’t say anything about my finger. They just stared at me. That was when I cried. I thought for sure they were going to kill me. The first time I saw what they had done to my finger was when I lifted my hand to brush the hair from my eyes. I think I passed out then.”

  “So they cut your finger off while you were knocked out?”

  “Yes. I didn’t know what had happened until I actually saw it.”

  A young reporter in the third row with a notepad in his hand jumped up. “After that, did they treat you well?” Several in the crowd groaned.

  Kacey paused for a few seconds until everything was quiet again. Then she leaned to the microphone. “We got off to such a bad start that it’s tough for me to be o
bjective about that one.”

  The lawn exploded with laughter. The reporter turned bright red and sat down. I looked up at the highest floors of the hospital. Patients stood at a number of the windows. In one window a woman held a hand-scrawled sign that read: We love you Kacey.

  Jason nudged me again. “What timing! Is she too young to run for office?”

  I didn’t respond.

  A trim, pretty woman with auburn hair stood up in the back row. I turned to Jason. “She looks familiar. Do you know who that reporter is?”

  “Katie Parst, Dallas Morning News. She’s the one who’s been doing the series about organized-crime extortion rings in Dallas. She’s a gutsy one.”

  “Kacey, what did they tell you about why they took you?” Parst said.

  Kacey sat up straight. “That’s the thing I most wanted to tell everyone. These men who took me, they didn’t talk to me at all. They just motioned with their hands. Any time they were in the room, they wore masks. I never saw their faces. I saw their eyes, though. Their eyes were cold. Every one of them had cold eyes. Not one showed even an ounce of sympathy for me. I was nothing to them. Not a person, not even an animal. I was just something they needed to use to get what they wanted, whatever that was.” She shivered and pulled my sweater over her shoulders. She glanced at me and I gave her a thumbs-up. My sweater had managed to ruin her outfit after all. She started to laugh, then quickly covered it by coughing into her hand.

  No one spoke for a few seconds. A man cleared his throat. An older gentleman in a cardigan sweater, standing off to the side, raised a finger in the air. “Kacey, what are your feelings about what your father had to do to win your freedom?”

  Simon’s back stiffened. He placed his palms flat on the table.

  Kacey brushed a hair from her face and spoke deliberately. “My dad is a great man, and I don’t mean just because he’s kind of famous.” A few of the reporters chuckled. “He loves me and would do anything for me. I feel awful that he had to do that, because I know he would never have done it to save his own life. But he did it for me. He made an incredible sacrifice to save my life.” She turned toward Simon. “I love you, Dad.” Tears edged down her cheeks.