Melissa Foster - Chasing Amanda

“Don’t talk to me now!” Molly’s biting tone cut off his words. “Just…just…” She waved him away and turned her back to him. At that moment, Cole’s soundly-set jaw and the worried, welcoming eyes appeared before his strong, filthy body. Relief swept through her. She started to run to him, hesitated, her hands clasping together in fresh panic, remembering his angry words, I’m done .

“Baby,” he whispered, as his feet hit the ground.

Molly ran to him, almost knocking him back into the hole.

Cole held her as if he’d never let her go, and Molly sobbed, clinging to him as Tracey had clung to her. “I’m sorry,” she said, over and over.

“Shhh,” Cole replied. “I’m sorry. I should have believed you. I’m so sorry.” He reached up and stroked Molly’s hair, kissed the top of her head.

“How did you—”

“Erik,” Cole replied. “He called after you did. He said you were in trouble. He told me where to find you. He told me, Molly. He knew.”

Molly exhaled for what seemed to her like the first time in hours.

Molly’s tears drenched his soft gray shirt. She looked up at him, but could not find the words to express her feelings. The happiness in her heart physically hurt. She held onto him for support, drawing out his strength and using it as her own. A tiny hand on the back of Molly’s shirt called her attention, and she turned around, her eyes dropping to see Tracey, dirty remnants of tears streaked her cheeks. Her parents stood behind her, each with a hand on one of her shoulders. Molly crouched down and hugged Tracey.

Tracey whispered in her ear, “Thank you.”

Her parents cried openly, unashamed, and Molly moved to Celia, taking her in her arms. They embraced with a warmth and need that could only come from a mother’s love, only understood by another mother. Celia looked into Molly’s eyes, unable to find her voice, and mouthed, “God bless you.”

The lump in Molly’s throat had stolen her voice. They embraced again, and when they parted, Mark Porter said, “How can we ever repay you?”

Molly shook her head. She hugged Mark and leaned down to Tracey again, whispering in her ear, “You’re safe now, Tracey.” Molly kissed her forehead, gave her another hug, and watched them walk toward the waiting police car.

“Thank God she’s home,” Mike’s voice broke the solemn scene.

Molly was too exhausted to say what she’d felt when she’d first set out that evening, angry, frustrated, and disappointed. She stared at him, then dropped her eyes as Sal joined them. “You did it,” Sal’s words were kind, appreciative. Cole put his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “She sure did,” he said in a tough, protective tone. Sal reached a hand out in greeting. Cole lifted his chin, without accepting his hand.

“We have limited resources,” Sal said in explanation. “Mike and I tried to convince Officer Brown, but we couldn’t chase a…” he paused, searching for the right words.

“Whim?” Molly asked, annoyed. “Well, my whim saved her.”

Mike grabbed her arm as she turned away. Cole moved closer, stood taller. Mike dropped her arm, explained, “Molly, we wanted to believe you. We did, honestly, but come on, you have to admit—“

“I know, okay?” she interrupted. “I get why you didn’t come running,” she looked up at Cole and stepped back from the three of them. “But what the hell? I mean, I had to do this alone?”

“Molly,” Cole said.

“No, Cole. I’m thankful that you were there. I could have been killed. You were right, all along you were right. I put myself in danger, but I didn’t care. Don’t you get that?” Her anger returned. She spoke fervently to Mike and Sal, “You’re police! If you don’t take a chance to save someone, what good are you?” “And what if she hadn’t been there, Molly?” Mike retorted. “Then I’d have wasted your time, right?” Molly spat. “Yes! Exactly!” Mike said sternly.

Molly paced, “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what you should have done, but I’m goddamn thankful that I went, and even more thankful that Cole showed up!” She moved to Cole, realizing, at that second, that it had taken Erik’s visions, his plea, to get Cole’s acceptance. Why should it have taken any less to get theirs? Her shoulders slumped, the ability to fight left her, and she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened like a storm on the horizon.

Cole went to her, understanding her body language and held her.

Cole stared at Mike and Sal, indicating his displeasure. They nodded and walked away. Cole silently moved Molly’s wayward curls from her eyes, pulling the tresses off of her shoulder and laying them, carefully, behind her back. He tipped her chin up with his index finger, gazing into her red and swollen eyes, and said, each word conveying his love, “Molly, you scared the hell out of me. When Erik called, I had thoughts of all sorts of awful things happening to you.” Molly opened her mouth to respond, and he placed his index finger gently across it, shushing her. “I can’t lose you, Molly. I adore you. You scared me, but I’m so proud of you. I wouldn’t want you to be any different.” He took her in his arms again and held her.

Finally, in that moment, the dam burst. She cried. She cried for Tracey. She cried for Amanda. She cried out of thankfulness that Cole had rescued her. She cried the tears that she’d held in for so many nights that week. It was finally over.

Twenty Seven

Tracey’s abductor’s nerves were afire. Her body trembled. She could not stop thinking about Tracey. Where was she? Was she okay? Safe? She worried about her being sad, becoming sick from the toxins. She missed her.

She sat on the cold metal chair in the gray room, her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. She felt small and more alone than she ever had in the tunnels. Gazing at the long mirror that adorned one of the walls, she didn’t recognize the woman she saw in the reflection. She’d seen her own image so rarely that the image of a little girl, not a grown woman, materialized in her head. She looked away. The officer had told her to wait, but for what, she wasn’t sure. She prayed silently, hoping God would hear her, “ Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations—”

The door swung open, and two men moved noisily into the room. She recognized them from the day they had taken Tracey, the day her home was invaded by that woman.

The older man, the dark-haired one, spoke first, “Ma’am, do you understand why you’re here?”

She nodded.

“You are under arrest.” He paused, looked to the other, younger man who stood just inside the closed door, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. After a moment he said, “You are under arrest for the abduction of Tracey Porter.” She sat silently, unresponsive. The younger man read her the Miranda Rights and asked if she understood them. “Yes,” she whispered “Do you understand why you are being arrested?” he asked.

She raised her eyes to meet his. He had kind eyes, but she still did not understand what was happening. “Yes?” she asked tentatively. “Ma’am, do you understand that you may have a lawyer present if you wish?” he asked. She nodded, knitting her fingers together nervously. “Would you like a lawyer present, ma’am?” She shook her head and whispered, “No, thank you.” “Okay.” The other man placed a tape recorder on the table, turned it on. “Ma’am, I’m Sergeant Moeler,” the younger gentleman nodded and smiled. “I’m going to tape our conversation. Is that okay?” “Yes,” she said.

The older gentleman said, “My name is Officer Rozutto, and I’m in charge of this investigation. State your name, please,” he asked. She looked down shyly. The men rolled their eyes. “Ma’am, your name, please?” “I...I don’t really know.” An unexpected tear rolled down her cheek.