Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

“I’m really sorry about the situation you’re in, Andrew. I haven’t worked directly with her but I hear she’s been having a difficult recovery. The doctors can’t seem to figure out what’s going on with her. I’m sure they’re doing their best.” And with that, she walks out of the room.

For the next three days, I never see Nurse Jackie but I do have a constant stream of attendants. Nurses come in like clockwork every hour to check the monitor and jot things down on their clipboards. Every time they come in, I tell them I want to see Abby or my parents. Whenever I say anything, though, they pretend I’m not even there.

I’m far from one hundred percent both mentally and physically. I still can’t remember what happened on the day of my coma. Memories start to come in from the days before, but just subtle ones. I remember the weekend before Tuesday’s events; Abby and I went to dinner and a movie. A lousy comedy accompanied by a pretty good Mexican dinner. Everything was just so normal. How could someone possibly have attacked Abby that Tuesday? Abby is such a sweet girl — that’s why I married her. She didn’t have an enemy in the world — at least, none that I knew of. Somebody attacking her must be a random occurrence. That’s the only possible explanation. What doesn’t add up in my mind, though, is why I’m lying here in a hospital bed too. Nurse Jackie said that Abby was attacked, but she didn’t say anything about me. Was my reason for being in here related to Abby? I would think so. It’s far-fetched odds to have two unrelated causes for having serious injuries at the same time. My head swells with thoughts of an elaborate car chase with the attacker; shots are fired and I do everything I can to save my beloved Abby. Then, in some unforeseen event, we both crash and end up where we are now. That’s how I would like to think things went, but knowing myself it was probably far less adventurous.

My heroic adventure is cut short with a very welcome surprise — my parents walk into my room. The first person I see is my mother, who has already begun to cry. My father is right behind her, a big grin on his face.

“Oh Andrew, it’s so great to see you. This damn hospital has gotten on my last nerve.” She gives me a big hug and kiss, and then continues. “They wouldn’t let us come in, not even for a moment. They said you were in a fragile state and couldn’t handle any unnecessary excitement. Evidently, you’re OK now. Do you feel OK?”

“Yeah, mom. I’m all right,” I reassure her. The truth is, I’m far from all right. “What happened mom? They won’t tell me anything.”

Just like that, the excitement of seeing me fades and things take a more serious tone.

“They haven’t told you anything? Well, that doesn’t surprise me. The authorities have been coming in and out like crazy. They ask us all these questions but I never have any answers. I tell them my boy and Abby are good kids and they would never do anyone any harm. They said the man who did this was some guy around your age. He went to the same high school as Abby. Zach Jones, have you ever heard of him?”

Zach Jones? I feel like I’ve heard the name before. Not for a long, long time, though. “Zach Jones. Zach Jones.” I keep saying it out loud, hoping something clicks. Did Abby ever mention a Zach Jones before? My mind stirs around on it for a few minutes, and then it hits me. “Abby did mention a Zach Jones. It was a long time ago, before we were even married. She said they dated for a few weeks during her senior year of high school, but she broke up with him. Abby said he didn’t take it well and kind of stalked her until college. Then he tried calling her a few times freshmen year. One time, after we had started dating, he called one night while I was there. She usually just let it ring, but this time she picked up the phone and yelled at him, telling him to never call her again. Ever since then she never mentioned him, and for all I know he never called again. That’s so crazy. Why would he attack her after all these years? Just out of the blue?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.”

“How is Abby? Have you heard anything?”

“Do you not remember anything, Andrew?”

“No mom, the last thing I remember is the Saturday before, when Abby and I went out to dinner. Everything from then on is a complete blur. I don’t remember any of it.”

“Oh, Andrew. Really? I can’t believe that! She’s not good, sweetie. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her but, I don’t know, we haven’t seen her,” she stops herself and starts crying. Once she gains some composure she continues, “Apparently, this Zach person came into her work with a gun and ordered her to leave and get in his car. He drove off with her and nobody could find them. They got in touch with you right away and you drove down to see if you could help find her. Apparently you did, Andrew! It wasn’t until much later in the day but you were the one to find her.”

My mother doesn’t have to tell me the rest of the story, because the memories all start coming back. A moment ago I couldn’t remember anything and now it all comes in crystal clear. I remember getting the phone call right as I got to work. Normally, I would never answer the phone from an anonymous number but something in me felt compelled to answer it this time. It was the police telling me what had happened. I quickly told one of my bosses and ran out of the office.

I’d never driven so fast in my life. For the first time in history, I drove forty-five minutes on an Ohio highway without seeing a police officer. It’s a good thing too, because I’m not sure I would have stopped if I did. I went straight to Abby’s work where I could see the door was broken into. The area was mobbed with police cars. I didn’t count, but there had to have been fifteen to twenty, all with their lights on.

I’ve had enough run-ins with the police to know that it’s nothing like the movies. Police officers generally don’t give a shit, or they have other priorities more important than your situation.

The officer I spoke with assured me everything was going to be fine — that they would find Abby as soon as possible. I asked him if they knew who the person was and he said they didn’t. They only knew that he has black hair and he took her in an unidentified car. No license plate or brand name of the car was given. The only description was that it was black.

I remember leaving there as soon as I could. I was actually a bit surprised they let me go. Deputies in the movies always have a sneaking suspicion of the boyfriend/husband. He must have been able to tell I’m not a good actor and I clearly wasn’t faking it.

I drove everywhere I could, covering every back road and shady street corner looking for anything suspicious. What I was doing seemed pretty pointless because I was going on almost no information. I didn’t see one black car, only a couple black SUV’s and black mini-vans. I almost stopped them but my better judgment told me that it wasn’t a car so there’s no way it could be Abby’s kidnapper.

That’s when I got the call. It was in the afternoon around two o’clock. It wasn’t from the deputy, but from Abby’s phone. I pulled the car to the side of the road and picked up. It was her, my sweet and dearest Abby. She only had time to say two words.

“Re…ser…voir. A…lone.”

It was a struggle for her to say anything. I shouted back her name but she didn’t answer. I looked down at my phone, “Call Ended.”

The reservoir is near where Abby grew up. It’s a beautiful area about thirty minutes south from our current home. During the summer we go there sometimes to picnic and spend the day. There’s one spot in particular she takes me to that’s quite beautiful. It’s hard to get to because it’s deep in the wilderness and there isn’t a road taking you all the way there. Abby has rocks and other notable objects to keep from getting lost.