James Grippando - The Abduction

Allison’s Bucar crushed a layer of twigs and fallen leaves as it rolled up the long uphill driveway to Sofia Johnson’s home. Nestled behind a stand of trees that had dropped their leaves was a small, two-story Tudor-style house with a stone fireplace and a wood shingle roof. A waft of gray smoke curled from the chimney. The smell of burning oak filled the chilly night air. A porch light glowed in the darkness, and the garage door was open. The driver pulled the Bucar inside and cut off the engine.

The door closed automatically. After quick introductions, Sofia whisked them into the house, through a door that connected the garage to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, a white Chrysler pulled up the driveway. Tanya hadn’t succeeded in losing every media tail, but it didn’t matter. Sofia Johnson truly was a friend of hers, and no one but Tanya knew that the attorney general was waiting inside.

She parked in the driveway. Sofia greeted her at the front door. Harley introduced the two other agents, then Sofia led her upstairs to a small sitting room. The agents waited downstairs.

“I really appreciate this,” Tanya said to her friend as they headed up the narrow staircase.

“No problem,” said Sofia. “It’s not like I’m harboring the enemy. I wasn’t going to vote for your father anyway.”

Tanya cracked a faint smile, appreciating a little levity. They embraced on the upstairs landing, then Tanya headed down the hall, alone.

Allison drummed her fingers nervously on the armchair, waiting. Finally the door opened. She rose to greet the younger woman.

“I’m Allison,” she said, extending her hand.

“No kidding,” said Tanya.

Allison recoiled. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to insult your intelligence by stating the obvious. Just wanted to get us on a first-name basis, as opposed to Ms. Leahy or something really obnoxious, like Madam Attorney General. May I call you Tanya?”

“Sure.” She took a seat in the rocking chair by the bookshelf. Allison returned to the plaid upholstered armchair facing the window. The drapes were drawn, shutting out any enterprising photographers who might be curious about Tanya’s sudden visit to a friend.

Allison studied her pained expression. The eyes were hollow. The worry lines on her face seemed carved in wax. Allison suddenly felt guilty about her earlier reaction to the tape recording of Tanya’s conversation with the kidnappers. True, Tanya had a better shot at getting her daughter back than Allison did. But to think of Tanya as the lucky one was a senseless comparison, like saying the dying were luckier than the dead because the dead had shown them the way.

Allison began, “I don’t want you to think of me as the attorney general. Don’t look at me as a presidential candidate. I’m not here for either of those reasons.”

“I know. Mr. Abrams explained everything. I’m just thankful there’s still hope. When the kidnapper hung up on me this afternoon, I thought they were through negotiating. I never dreamed they’d call you. I guess they believed my father when he said he’d never pay.”

“He was pretty convincing.”

“That’s because he meant it. You know the reputation my father had at the Pentagon, the hard; liner on terrorism. No negotiations. Period.”

“Reputation is one thing. You’d think he might budge when his own granddaughter was at stake.”

“You’d think,” she said vaguely.

Allison sensed Tanya was about to say more. She waited, but Tanya fell silent. Allison said, “If you want us to pay the kidnappers, my husband and I will come up with the money. A million dollars.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, really. The only thing I would ask is that you allow two FBI agents back into your home, for your own protection. And that you allow the FBI to monitor your phones. I know the kidnappers told you no FBI. But kidnappers always say that. Unless they’re total idiots, they’ll execute their plan on the assumption that you did call the FBI. I’m not asking you to do anything I wouldn’t do myself, if I were in your shoes.”

“That’s all I have to do? I don’t have to endorse you for president or anything?”

Allison smiled faintly. “No. We won’t publicize it. No one ever has to know that we supplied the money. Not even your parents.”

“Especially not my parents.”

“That’s fine. It’s your call. I’m not doing this for publicity or political advantage.”

Tanya narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Then why are you doing it?”

“To save Kristen. And…”

“And what?”

Allison sighed. “It’s important to me that we find Kristen. Don’t discount my feelings about that. But I’ll be perfectly honest with you. There may be more to this kidnapping than you or your father understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re looking for a possible connection between Kristen’s kidnapping and the abduction of my daughter eight years ago.”

“So you’re paying the million dollars in the hope that it will lead to evidence that might lead you to Emily?”

“In a way, I guess that’s true. But it’s not conditioned on that. We’re paying the money, period. If it brings Kristen back, that alone will be worth it.”

“Look, I appreciate your generosity. But I don’t want anyone who gets involved in this to have any personal agenda. My only objective is getting Kristen back safe.”

“I agree with you. It’s not a question of putting one person’s daughter ahead of the other’s. You have to look at it as an opportunity for us to help each other. If the kidnappings are connected, it only makes sense to be thinking about both of them. A pretty good argument can be made that Kristen was kidnapped for the same reason Emily was abducted eight years ago-to hurt me. Mr. Abrams doesn’t think my baby was abducted by someone who wanted a child of their own or who wanted to sell her for profit. There are much easier ways of getting an infant than breaking into someone’s house-like stealing a newborn from a hospital, for instance. And if you look at Kristen’s kidnapping, it’s tempting to say that somebody is trying to make your father win the election. But it’s just as easy to say that somebody is trying to make me lose. The fact that the kidnappers have now demanded ransom from me would only seem to bolster the possibility of a connection.”

Tanya had that look on her face again-as if she was struggling to say something. But she remained silent.

Allison picked up on it this time. “You look troubled, Tanya. Is there something about this connection theory that doesn’t sit well with you?”

She looked away, breathing a heavy sigh. “It’s just your whole theory about the motivation for Kristen’s kidnapping-that it’s designed to hurt you, as opposed to helping my father.”

“You don’t see it that way?” asked Allison.

She closed her eyes, as if suddenly in sharp pain. “I don’t know.”

Allison leaned forward, softening her voice. “Tanya, what is it?”

Her moist eyes glistened. “I’ll leave it to you to figure out motives. But you should know all the facts.”

“Is there something more you’d like to tell me?”

She nodded. “It’s about Kristen’s father.”

Allison sunk in her chair, listening. “Go on, please.”

“You see, Kristen was born while I was in college. I wasn’t married. But I was definitely in love. Mark was his name. Mark Buckley.”

“He was Kristen’s father?”

She bit her lip, nodding. “When I got pregnant, Mark said he’d marry me. I thought about it, and I talked to my parents. My mother was supportive. But my father went ballistic. Even though he says he’s against abortion while he’s out campaigning, he practically threw me in the car to take me to the clinic.”