Finding Faye:

by A. J. Andersen

  Blurb

  Four years of hiding. Four years of waiting. Always looking over my shoulder.

  Wondering when they will find me. Hoping that, by some miracle, he will find me.

  The boy I loved. My only friend. The only man I have ever wanted.

  She disappeared while I was at war. Four years I have been searching. How did a sixteen year old girl manage to hide so well. I can’t let myself believe that they might have found her. That she might already be dead.

  I don’t care how long it takes. If it takes forever I will gladly spend the rest of my life

  Finding Faye

  A K&S Security Novel

  A. J. Andersen

  Copyright © 2019 by A. J. Andersen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by A. J. Andersen

  Prologue

  10 years ago

  Travis Keller

  I turn 18 today.

  Before, my birthday would have been a reason to have a party, but now it’s just another day. I'm already enlisted in the US Marine Corps and heading to basic training in the morning, so even if anyone wanted to throw me a party I wouldn’t be able to celebrate.

  As things stand, I’m just ready to get out of here.

  This past year has been a nightmare. If my mom had known what a total piece of shit my dad's brother, Brad is, she never would have named him as my guardian. Honestly, anyone would have been better. He treats me like shit, but I'm bigger than him now and I’ve been working out with my recruiter four days a week for the past nine months, so I'm stronger and faster than him, too.

  I really feel bad for Faye, who is only ten. She’s my uncle’s girlfriend’s little girl. and Brad is a drunk.

  A mean drunk, and he hates kids.

  Poor Faye bears the brunt of his shitty behavior. Earlier today he pushed her down because she was in his way. I didn't see it, but I know he did. She came to hide out in my room, tears streaking her tiny face, and still hasn’t left.

  Claire never even came to check on her.

  I can’t help but think about my own mom. She would have killed to protect me, and I just don’t understand how Claire can let Brad abuse her daughter like he does. She's as shitty a person as Brad is, but I don’t think she has always been like that.

  I called CPS once, thinking they would be able to do something to help Faye, but they couldn't find any reason to take her away. Brad is a lawyer...a rich, dirty lawyer. I suspect that he’s mixed up in some bad stuff, but I haven’t been able to find any proof, not that Brad lets anyone into his office.

  Claire is his legal secretary…or something. I have been able to get into her laptop, but everything she’s been handling for Brad seems legitimate.

  Anyway, Brad knew it was me who made the call. He threatened to get me in trouble if I tried something like that again—the kind of trouble that would make the Marines not want me. I have no illusions about his ability to do just that, so my hands are tied, and I’m certain that Faye is going to be the one to pay the price. I wish I could find a way to take her with me, but there isn’t a way. Maybe when I’m a little older there will be something I can do.

  That’s the only long term plan I have. To make something of myself and somehow get Faye and take care of her.

  She doesn’t have anyone else, and as weird as it sounds, she’s my best friend. She tells me all her secrets and I tell her all my plans. Neither one of us has friends here. Brad and Claire have made that impossible. Instead, Faye and I…we have each other.

  Sighing, I look at my clock, 2300 hours. My recruiter will be here to pick me up in 7 hours. I need to sleep, but my worries won't let me. There are so many things that could happen to hurt her. Worse things than Brad slapping her, and Claire’s total indifference. At least right now, Faye is sleeping peacefully. Tilting my chin down, I kiss the top of her head where the two lopsided French braids I twisted into her red hair are pressed into my armpit.

  She is so small, even for a ten-year-old, and I'm scared something bad is going to happen to her while I'm gone. She has been the only ray of sunshine in my life since my mom died. When I came here I was still grieving and in a fog of sadness. Faye was the one who pulled me out of my misery and reminded me of all the plans I had before I lost my mom. Such a sweet kid, I think, my eyes finally getting heavy...then nothing but warm darkness.

  0530 hours. My phone alarm screams, and I shut it off as quickly as my sleep-heavy, fumbling hands allow, not wanting to wake up Faye. I’m a little slow, and it does anyway. She wakes up much too quickly for a kid, her golden-colored eyes filling with tears as she watches me gather up my duffel bag. She is wrapped up in my comforter, her sad gaze following my every move.

  “I wish you didn't have to go, Twavis,” she whispers with a little lisp, in a voice much too grave for a ten-year-old. She’s been living with her mom and Brad for two years, and I suppose that is enough to mature anyone early. I sit back down beside her and take her little hand in mine, squeezing it.

  “I know, Sweetpea, but I have to go.”

  “I know. You awe going to be a Ma-ween.”

  I absolutely love how she says her Rs like Ws. It makes Brad irate, so usually I correct her pronunciation so she doesn’t get in trouble, but not this morning.

  “Yes, I am. But I will come check on you if I can, and if you write me letters I will write you back. And someday, when you are bigger, if things are still bad here you can come stay with me.”

  “Pwomise?” she asks, and I nod my head. “Maybe by then you will have kids, and I can watch them like you watch out for me.”

  I nod my head, agreeing. I’d like to have a real family again someday, and having Faye be part of it would be perfect. I don’t have any siblings, so it would be like having a little sister. I hear the rumble of a pickup engine in the driveway and know it's time for me to go.

  “Yes, Sweetpea. That’s the plan. I promise. Walk me outside?”

  She nods, her messy braids swinging, and slides to the floor before putting her little hand in mine. We tiptoe down the hallway to the front door and outside into the already muggy morning air. My recruiter knows all about the fucked-up situation in this house, so he's not surprised that a little kid is the only family I have to see me off today.

  Dropping to my knees, I wrap her in my arms and kiss her wet cheek.

  “Stay out of their way, Faye,” I tell her. “Do good in school, and I will come see you as soon as I can.”

  My eyes are stinging and my throat feels too tight. I haven’t felt this bad since I watched them lower mom’s casket
into the ground.

  “Okay, Twavis. I will miss you so much. You awe my best fwend.” Her tears flow freely now, and the tip of her little nose is bright pink, but she doesn't make a sound.

  “I will be back for you someday, Sweetpea . I don't know when, but I promise I will.”

  I know I shouldn’t make promises like that. I know that I’m most likely going to be sent to Afghanistan or some other hellish place once I finish my training, and I know that is something I may not ever return from.

  I shouldn’t make promises I may not be able to keep.

  Her arms wrap around my neck and she sobs. In the year I have been here, I have never heard her make a sound when she cries. That, I know, is not normal kid behavior.

  “I love you, Twavis,” she whimpers, her tears soaking my skin as I rock her in my embrace. I stand up with her clutching my neck when my uncle walks out the door and surveys the scene.

  “Get back to bed, Faye,” he snarls, grabbing her arm and roughly pulling her away from me. “Thanks for waking me up,” he snaps as he turns and slams the door behind them.

  I hear the loud crack of a slap and Faye’s brief wail. I stumble down the steps, my own tears coursing down my cheeks, and tell myself she wasn’t really calling my name. One foot in front of the other, I carry my duffle bag to the pickup and get in before resting my forehead on the cool glass of the window.

  Staff Sergeant Boyle claps a solid hand on my shoulder before putting the truck in reverse and backing out of the driveway.

  Away from this last nightmarish year of my life.

  All I know now is that somehow I have to save Faye. Brad won’t mess with me once I’m a Marine, he doesn’t have the stones. There is no going back now.

  6 years later

  Faye Cooper

  Tomorrow is my birthday. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.

  I don't mind that fact one bit. No boys that I know are worth kissing anyway. Nerds or nasty perverts, the whole disgusting lot of them.

  Flipping over, I reach under my bed and drag out the old backpack I keep all of my important things in. I’m pretty sure someday soon I'm going to have to take off on short notice. My mom drinks so much these days she hasn't even noticed that Brad has started paying way too much attention to me. The wrong kind of attention. He always tries to find ways to catch me alone. That is why I moved into the tiny pool house across the yard. They don't like it, but they haven't tried to make me move back. I can’t help but think that maybe mom does know about Brad and his wandering eyes and hands.

  I know I'm a lot happier with this arrangement.

  Reaching into the pack, I pull out the tattered stack of letters I keep inside with my little stuffed unicorn. That, a couple changes of clothes, my birth certificate, some old photos of my mom and dad from before everything went to shit, and an envelope of cash. That is all that I plan to take with me when I need to bug out. I shouldn’t need anything else.

  I have a lot of money. I work at the ice cream parlor in town and I babysit as many evenings a week as I can. Plus I have been hoarding lunch money, birthday money and any cash I find in the laundry for several years now. Making a bug-out bag was Travis' idea, and I always trust him to give me good advice.

  He hasn’t been back since the day he left for boot camp, but we have been writing letters to each other for ages. He even told me about his grandfather's hunting cabin up in the mountains somewhere out in Idaho. He even gave me GPS coordinates in a letter when we first discussed the possibility that I might need to run away. Not that they will do me any good. I’m hopeless with that kind of thing. He wanted me to be safe and to have somewhere to run to. I’m sure I can find it if I absolutely have to. I just hope it won’t actually come to that. Living with mom and Brad may not be ideal, but I know what I’m facing and I’m not scared. The idea of needing to run away is a bit frightening.

  My plan is to head west when I turn eighteen and wait for Travis to finish his tour of duty, and then we can get a place together. He even started sending me money, too. Just in case. He said it made him feel better knowing that I would be able to take care of myself if he wasn’t home to do it by then. Last time I counted it, I had over five thousand dollars saved. That’s a small fortune! I’m pretty sure it’s enough to find an apartment for us. I can get a job waitressing or something until he gets home.

  I know he comes back to the states, and I understand why he doesn’t come here to see me, but I sure would like to see him in person again. We video chatted for a while the last time he was back, but he volunteered for something he couldn’t talk about and left not long after. I know his job is important, but I wish I could spend just a little time with him.

  Hugging my bundle of letters to my chest, I pick up the picture frame on my bedside table and look at his face. He is so handsome in his fatigues, his blond hair hidden under the helmet on his head, dimples flashing in his cheeks. He is built like the tank he stands next to, all massive muscles and so very tall. I just got this photo last week, and it makes me feel things I have never felt for any boy before. Part of me wonders if that is because I’m feeling them for a man.

  I started crushing on him when I was fourteen, and my feelings have only grown as I have gotten older. I want him to be mine, but I know that he only sees me as a little sister, so I’m resigned to that being our relationship. Even though it sucks. I have no doubt that if he doesn’t already have a girlfriend, he will once he’s back in the states. I’ll face that day when it’s in front of me, and I can’t do anything about it.

  I’m not about to lose my best friend because I developed a crush on him.

  Sighing, I put the photo in its place and tuck the letters back in the pack, and flop over to stare at the ceiling. The music playing on my phone winds down, and that's when I hear it.

  I can hear people yelling across the yard in the main house. Not just Mom and Brad either, though I can hear Mom’s shrill voice. It sounds like she is almost hysterical.

  I suddenly have a bad feeling. Very bad.

  Reaching over, I turn off the bedside lamp and slip my photo of Travis into the front pocket of the backpack. I can’t hear the words, but somehow I know that things are about to change forever. It’s the desperation I can feel in the tone of my mother's voice.

  I grab the old Carhartt jacket I took out of Travis’ closet a couple of winters ago when Brad refused to let mom spend money on a new one for me, and slip it on. I slide my feet into my battered Converse sneakers next, straining to hear what is going on inside the house.

  I grab my book, my box of letter-writing supplies, and my cell phone, and jam them all in the backpack before zipping it closed and pulling it over my arms. The yelling is louder now. I still can't hear what is being said, but the tone is frantic and when I peak out the side of the window I can see mom and Brad on their knees through the sliding glass door.

  I feel a moment of dizziness before a voice inside tells me to run. Mom looks like she is crying. I can see a stranger standing in front of them, pointing a gun at them.

  He is big, the biggest person I have ever seen, even bigger than Travis, I think.

  He looks out the window and it feels like he is staring right at me, even though I'm hidden in the dark. He moves the gun from Brad to mom, smiling the whole time, and says something as he points toward the pool house.

  Shit! I shouldn't have turned off the light! He must have noticed it was on earlier.

  I hear my mom’s voice as she screams that it’s on a timer, drawing the stranger’s attention back to her and Brad.

  A loud POP startles me, and I watch in horror as Brad collapses in a heap on the cream-colored carpet he has always been so particular about. I can see the blood spreading out over it from here, and a ringing in my ears silences the night.

  I watch as mom reaches an imploring hand toward the man. He shakes his head at whatever she says and pulls the trigger. I don’t hear anything as my mother falls beside him. Time seems to stop for a long moment.


  The stranger, the killer, is still smiling as he turns toward me, his hand reaching for the door. Everything rushes back to me in an instant and I don't hesitate another second. Still reeling from the shock of what I just witnessed, I run to the small back door and let myself out into the night.

  I run through the darkness, my sneakers quiet on the soft leaves that litter the footpath I use to get to school. It feels like I’ve been running forever, but I know it's only a ten-minute walk. We don't live that far out of town. Before going out onto the open sidewalk, I stop and listen carefully for any sound of pursuit. I don't hear any, so I’m pretty sure I can slow down now and attempt to look casual as I approach the Greyhound station.

  The lady at the ticket counter doesn't even look at me twice as I ask for a ticket to Spokane, Washington. It's the closest city to Travis’ cabin, which is my destination. Exactly like we have planned, just a little early. I can stay there until I figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

  Oh God, I wish he was here. He would know what to do. Mom and Brad weren’t much, but at least I wasn’t alone.

  Boarding the bus, I take a seat in the back and burrow deeper into my too-big jacket. I pull the stocking cap in my pocket onto my head, covering my bright red hair.

  I just need to lay low until the bus leaves, then I should be safe. I hope.

  The bus departs just fifteen minutes later, heading west. It’s a freaking miracle as far as I’m concerned. There wouldn’t have been another one until tomorrow if I had missed this one. I have never been further from upstate New York than the time my mom and dad took me to visit the Amish Country in Pennsylvania when I was eight.