Kate Collins - Sleeping with Anemone

Since it was her birthday, I obliged her by tugging the hoodie over my turtleneck sweater-not a look I particularly liked. Tara, beside me, said, “Aren’t we awesome?”

“Practically twins,” Marco said, with a wink to me.

“Wait!” Tara said, and removed two of her headbands to put in my hair.

I hated headbands. They made my ears stick out. But it was Tara’s birthday… and how long was that excuse going to hold up?

“I want to get a photo of the two of you,” Kathy whispered in my ear, then tiptoed off before Tara could see her.

I put an arm around Tara so Kathy could snap a picture. Then Marco, Tara, and I presented our tickets and headed into the main hall, while my brother and sister-in-law squeezed into the back to stand and watch the show. So much for Jordan’s scalper friend.

The Expo Center had been transformed from exhibit hall to concert hall, with a stage lit by enormous spotlights, a backdrop of flashing colored lights, gleaming instruments on black metal stands, and giant speakers blasting Barrow Boys songs.

“I’m so excited,” Tara said, bouncing on the wooden folding chair. “I can’t believe I’m going to see the BBs in person! Thank you so, so, so much, Aunt Abby and Uncle Marco.”

She shifted away before I could elbow her.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Marco said.

Like he had a choice. A week into being my escort, he had yet to complain about being there early to take me to Bloomers, or leaving the bar at a busy time to bring me home, or running my Vette through the car wash because he always chose routes with slushy puddles even though I suggested better ways to get there. What a sport!

At seven thirty, the show kicked off with a warm-up band; then, at eight thirty, amidst earsplitting screams, the Barrow Boys swaggered onstage, took up their instruments, and began to play their new hit song, something about never-ending love, although I barely heard any of it. Marco seemed to be enjoying the music, yet I could see he was also keeping an eye out for trouble. Ever the vigilant guardian.

At the intermission, with Tara declaring the need for a bathroom break, Marco surveyed the huge number of teens flocking out the exit and decided it would be best to meet Kathy in front of the ladies’ room and have Kathy accompany Tara inside, while Jordan stayed with me.

“I have to go with my mom?” Tara cried as Marco used his cell phone to call Jordan.

He held his hand over the phone to whisper, “You can pretend you don’t know her.”

At Tara’s pleading look, I waited until Marco had finished his call, then said, “I can take her to the ladies’ room.”

“You’ll be more secure staying here in plain view of the off-duty cops posted around the room,” Marco replied, donning his Army Ranger persona. “We could be separated in the lobby. My cell phone is on vibrate and ring so you can reach me no matter what, but if anyone seems the least bit suspicious, yell for help first. The security cops will be here in seconds. Let’s go, Tara, or you’ll miss the BB’s first number.”

With one backward scowl at me, Tara hurried after him. As soon as she had cleared the aisle, my brother scooted in from the other side and sat down.

“Feet hurt?” I asked with a snicker.

“My daughter is worth every penny.”

“How many pennies would that be?”

“Shut up.”

For the next ten minutes, my brother and I chatted-actually, he bragged about how many operations he had performed in the past week and I scanned for Uniworld terrorists. When people began to stream back to their seats, Jordan left, and I turned to watch for Marco and Tara until I got a crick in my neck. After another ten minutes, my cell phone vibrated. I saw Jordan’s name on the screen. “Where are they?” I whispered into the phone. “The show’s about to start.”

“Don’t know. I’m going to the lobby to see what the holdup is.”

I slumped down in my seat, feeling suddenly vulnerable, as the BBs resumed their places onstage. They began to play, and still there was no sign of Marco and Tara. And now my brother was gone, as well.

When the band went into their second song, I started to panic. Surely the line for the ladies’ room wasn’t that long. I tried to call Marco, but it went to voice mail, so I texted: WHERE R U? I texted Tara next, then tried to phone my brother, and when I couldn’t reach him, either, I grabbed our coats and began to make my way up the row past dozens of knees.

My cell phone vibrated just as I reached the heavy exit doors. Marco’s name was on the screen but I couldn’t hear what he was saying because of the loud music. “Hold on,” I called.

I pushed open the door, hurried up the hallway into the lobby, and saw cops everywhere-not the familiar New Chapel blue-shirted variety, but the brown-and-tan-uniformed sheriff’s police. They were corralling employees and the few concert attendees who’d stayed in the lobby, and as soon as they spotted me, one of them commanded, “Hold it right there.”

I came to a stop. “Marco?” I called into my phone. “Are you there?”

“I’m here, Abby. Where are you?”

“In the lobby. What’s going on?”

“Wait. I’ll hold up my hand.”

In the midst of all the confusion, I finally saw Marco gesturing for me to come toward him as he talked with one of the cops. I caught sight of my brother’s red hair and saw him beside Marco, speaking to another cop. Then my gaze was drawn down to the floor, where Kathy was kneeling, clutching Tara’s shiny pink purse and crying.

Something happened to Tara.

My heart began to hammer so hard I couldn’t breathe. I was so paralyzed, Marco came to get me. I clutched his arms for support. “What happened?”

“Tara is missing.”

I heard the words but couldn’t wrap my mind around them. “Missing?”

“She was kidnapped from the ladies’ room.”

Oh, God!My head swam. “Wasn’t Kathy with her?”

“The ladies’ room was jammed,” Marco explained, “so Kathy told Tara she’d meet her outside when she was finished. I was waiting for them a few feet from the door. When intermission was over and Tara still hadn’t joined us, Kathy went back inside to see what was taking so long, but Tara wasn’t there. An attendant was cleaning, so Kathy showed her the photo she took of the two of you. The attendant hadn’t seen her but recognized Tara’s purse. Apparently, she found it on the floor behind the trash can and was going to turn it over to the lost-and-found department.”

“Someone kidnapped Tara from the washroom right under your noses?”

Marco pointed to people standing near the souvenir booth. “See those girls talking with the cops? They’re Tara’s school friends. They reported seeing a blond woman with a spider tattoo on her neck in the washroom, smoking a cigarette. Before the girls went back to their seats, they noticed the same blonde assisting an old lady in a long, baggy coat and knit hat toward the door, where a man was waiting. They said they noticed her because it was weird for someone to bring an old woman to a Barrow Boys concert.

“They didn’t get a look at the man’s face because he had a hood pulled up over his head, but they were able to give a good description of the woman-long, white blond hair with black tips, tattoo, heavy black eye shadow, black clothing. The cops are guessing the old lady was Tara in a disguise. She must have been Tasered or given an injection of some kind, because she was leaning heavily on the blonde, as though she didn’t have the strength to walk. The police are corroborating the girls’ story now with other witnesses.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt sick inside. I couldn’t begin to imagine the terror my brother and sister-in-law were feeling. I had chided Jordan for coming along to protect Tara, and none of us had been able to do it.