Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

Ashlyn wanted food. A deputy disappeared, returning shortly with a stack of take-out menus. She shook her head, asked if they had a vending machine. Two Snickers bars, two bags of potato chips and one can of Diet Coke later, my teenager was happy.

I went with coffee. And water. And a trip to the bathroom, where I washed my hands and rinsed my face over and over again.

When I stood up and confronted the face in the mirror, I had to pause, touch my own reflection with a trembling hand, because truly a woman who appeared that gaunt, that exhausted, that old couldn’t be me. The hollows beneath my cheeks. The bruises beneath my eyes. The sheer fatigue etched into each line of my face.

I had failed that woman. I had not taken care of her. And here I was, maybe exactly where I deserved to be.

When I opened the bathroom door, Tessa was standing in the hall, obviously waiting for me. She smiled faintly, as if she knew exactly what I’d just done, the thoughts that had gone through my head.

“It gets better,” she murmured. “Even if it doesn’t feel that way right now, eventually you will feel like something more than a shadow of your former self.”

“How do you know?”

“My husband was killed two years ago. I almost lost my daughter as well. Her name is Sophie, and she’s been very worried about your family. She told me to look for you in cold, dark places, and bring you hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies.”

I smiled faintly. “I could use some hot chocolate.”

“Does Ashlyn have a boyfriend?”

I shook my head, no longer surprised by any question. “Not that Justin and I knew.”

“The pregnancy was a surprise?”

“We only figured it out when she miscarried in prison. My family…we haven’t been doing so well, even before this happened.”

She seemed to accept that. “The medic person helped her?”

“Yes.”

“You like him. You speak of him with respect.”

I shrugged, feeling, ironically, as if I was betraying Radar’s trust. “He took care of us when we needed him. I respect that.”

“Did you like the other two as well?”

Immediately I shuddered. Not when I thought of Z. Even with the cobra tattoo, there was something commanding about him, an admirable quality of extreme self-control. On the other hand: “Mick, the one with the checkerboard hair, I don’t think he’s sane. He promised to hurt me, but only after hurting Ashlyn first.”

“So if he was in the military,” Tessa said out loud, “maybe not honorably discharged?”

I nodded, understanding now where she was going with this.

“And Chris Lopez?” she asked abruptly.

Now I was surprised. “What about him?”

“He likes you.”

I shook my head, already dismissive. “He works for my husband. He’s one of the guys. I don’t… They’re like a gaggle of boys. I don’t even look at them individually. They’re just… Justin’s sidekicks. Very talented, each and every one of them, but not entirely sane.”

“Did you know Lopez is Kathryn Chapman’s uncle?”

“What?”

“And he’s the one who sent you those texts six months ago?”

I gaped at her, couldn’t help myself. In turn, the investigator nodded slightly, as if that had been half the point: to see my reaction and gauge it for herself.

Down the hall, the conference room door opened, a reminder of the rest of the task force, still awaiting our return.

Tessa produced a card. She handed it to me. “If you think of anything, of course, please call. But also…if you ever need to talk. Just talk. I can’t promise to understand everything, but I think given my own experience, my own family… I will understand enough.”

She offered me one last bolstering smile, then led me back to the conference room. I took a seat, and the blond FBI agent announced that, per protocol, they would be separating Ashlyn and me. Of course, if I wanted to call a lawyer, a family member for support…but again, time was of the essence and they really needed to get started.

I gazed at my daughter. She had chocolate smudging the corner of her mouth, and absurdly, that reminded me of when she was four years old and had smeared brownie batter all over her face, even on the tip of her nose, which she then tried to reach with her tongue again and again. I’d laughed till I cried, while Justin had grabbed the camera and we’d been happy then. I swear, we had been so, so happy…

I must’ve made a sound. Maybe distress. Because my daughter reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“It’s okay, Mom. We’ve made it this far, right? I can do this.”

She got up and followed two agents out the door, while I fisted my hands on my lap in order to let my baby go.

The second the door closed behind her, Special Agent Adams got down to business.

She started with the basics. How we’d been taken, where we’d been taken. How much did our captors know about us, what had we managed to learn about them?

I relayed Radar’s medical expertise, several of his comments that led me to believe he was former military. Justin’s initial belief that they didn’t mean us harm, as they carried Tasers, not guns. Also when Mick attacked me, Z had Tased his own man to get him to back down.

Except then they’d pulled Justin from the cell and beaten him to a pulp without any explanation.

The investigators exchanged several glances at this.

“You mean,” the blonde, Special Agent Adams, reiterated, “the kidnappers did not start by talking of ransom?”

“No. That was our idea. After the beating, it occurred to Justin that he could evoke the imminent-death clause of his life insurance policy, making us worth nine million dollars. And that kind of money might be what it would take for them to let us live.”

“In the days leading up to the kidnapping, did you feel any threat? Such as someone watching you? Notice people loitering around your neighborhood, perhaps contractors across the street? Feel any sense of danger?”

I shook my head.

“Did they know about Justin’s affair?”

I recoiled, wondering how this would be relevant, but then again… “Actually, Z seemed to know about Justin’s…extracurriculars.” I wanted to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I didn’t.

“How would you describe the state of your marriage?”

I shrugged tiredly. “Strained. Awkward. But we were trying. Date night. This whole thing… Date night.” The taste of oranges mixing with champagne upon my lips.

“Did you ever contact a divorce lawyer after discovering that Justin was cheating on you?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

The question confused me. “We have a daughter. We have a life. Maybe some people throw that away after…one mistake, but I wasn’t going to.”

“Are you aware of the terms of your prenup?” the second FBI agent asked me. Special Agent Hawkes.

I nodded uncomfortably, still not understanding this line of questioning. “Yes. I renounced all claim to Justin’s company, in return for fifty percent of our personal assets. The company was from Justin’s father and predated me. The concession seemed fair enough.”

The blond agent studied me. “Are you aware that you have no personal assets? That, in fact, Justin ran your entire life, your homes, your cars, your furniture, everything, through the company?”

I shook my head, feeling dazed. The interview wasn’t going the way I’d thought it would. I’d hoped it would be about the men who’d just murdered my husband and assaulted my family. Not about…me. “Justin paid the bills. I never thought to question… But it wouldn’t have mattered. I hadn’t asked for a divorce. Not to mention, in prison, Justin offered to rip up the prenup, give me anything I asked for. He was sorry.”