Elise
I’m shoved forcefully into a chair.
The man who drove me, Crouch, and Alexander to this construction site in Morningside Heights stoops down behind me and ties my wrists together with his own shoelace. He looks nervous the whole time he completes the task, too, sweat pouring down the sides of his face.
“First kidnapping?” I ask, as casually as possible when I really want to cry. It’s taking everything inside of me not to let out the sobs building inside of my chest. But some untapped source of self-preservation tells me I need to keep a level head. If I can just make these men see reason, I can get out of this, right? I’m not going to die today. Right? “I’m just a sandwich girl.”
“Shut the fuck up,” says the driver, standing again and pointing his gun at me.
A firearm has been aimed at me for the last twenty minutes, although it was in the hands of Jameson Crouch. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. My skin crawls and acid climbs the sides of my throat. I can’t control the trembling of my body. Alexander and Crouch are arguing in the corner of the half-built room where they’ve taken me. Just like they argued in hushed tones on the drive to this place. They were in the middle seat of the SUV. I was in the back, lying down on my side as instructed, a gun leveled at me from its place in Crouch’s hand.
The fact that they’re arguing now is good, right? They’re unraveling. My gut tells me they were in over their heads the second they kidnapped me from the Times. They didn’t plan this. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision and now they don’t know what to do.
The bad part? They can’t just let me go now.
I know too much. I’ve now been kidnapped by the deputy mayor and a powerful union boss and they have an explosive secret to hide. Power and money are at stake. I know they leaked emails about the governor. I know they planned to have the Times in their back pocket.
On the ride over, I promised them if they just pulled over and set me free, I would never tell anyone about this. They would never hear my name or see me ever again. I swore on my life. But those vows fell on deaf ears. I was only told to shut up. I’m not a human being to them. I’m nothing but a problem to be solved.
This is bad. This is bad.
I can’t help but try again, though. Now that the use of my hands has been taken away, I feel tragically powerless and it spurs me into begging, even though I hate the pitiful tone to my voice. “Please. It’s not too late to let me go,” I shout across the empty concrete room to Crouch and Alexander. “You’ve scared me. That was the goal, right? To scare me into keeping my mouth shut about what I know? Fine. I was already planning on it. Just let me go. Please.”
Behind my back, I start to twist my wrists, hoping to subtly loosen the shoelace. The driver used one of those thin, starchy dress shoelaces, I realize, looking down at his matching shoe. They’re not great for knot tying. If I can get loose and run, there is a chance this man won’t pull the trigger. He didn’t sign up for this—it’s there in his nervous movements. The conflicted way he continues to look at me.
“What’s the plan?” whisper-shouts the driver, shifting in his wingtips. “The longer we’re here, the greater the chance of being found. I don’t want to be found with some tied-up girl, man. I’ve got a family.”
“Relax,” Crouch says sharply. “We’re waiting for approval on permits for this site. No one is scheduled to be here until they’re granted. No one is coming.”
Has Gabe worked on this project?
As soon as I allow that musing to slip to the forefront of my mind, the floodgates open. I can no longer stop the tears from tracking down my cheeks. I miss Gabe and Tobias and Banks so badly, it winds me. Bereaves me. I shouldn’t have ignored their calls. I should have stayed at Gabe’s and accepted their anger over the article like a big girl, instead of running off half-cocked to get it omitted from tomorrow’s paper. Just one more time in my life that I behaved impulsively, but now it could get me…killed.
Might as well admit it. This could be the end.
I don’t see how they can let me off with a warning now.
Not with the mayoral seat hanging in the balance. Or the potential wrath of a governor.
My parents are never going to find out what happened to me. I’ll never have the chance to enroll in classes at Baruch and set myself up for real success at something I love, instead of trying to skip to the end. Of course, I’m not afraid to commit now, when it could be too late.