Her Silent Cry

Forty-Six

Oaks was in the dining room, seated in front of a laptop, typing up a report. A cup of coffee steamed beside him. He looked up at her when she walked in, his brow raised in a question. Josie shook her head. She wasn’t getting anything more out of Amy. Nothing that made sense. Their only choice at this juncture was to wait for the ransom drop and hope that they could catch the kidnapper and recover Lucy—alive.

Oaks gestured to his mug. “Get yourself some coffee—or some sleep. Mr. Ross said they’ve got a spare bedroom upstairs that we can use.”

Josie tried to sleep in the guest room—she and Mettner took shifts—but rest would not come. The hours stretched on in a tomb-like silence that enveloped the house. Amy sat alone in Lucy’s room while Colin paced the dining room. Morning came and went. Then afternoon. Someone ordered takeout but no one ate. Every passing minute seemed like some kind of death knell. No one said it, but Josie imagined they were all wondering: was he going to call?

When Amy’s cell phone eventually rang, the sound screamed through the house like an alarm. Amy came rushing down the stairs, stumbling and falling down the last few steps. Colin was there, and he lifted her up and half-dragged, half-carried her into the dining room. Amy’s hands trembled as she picked up the phone from the dining room table and swiped the Answer icon. The room was packed, with Oaks, Mettner, Colin and several other agents crammed into it, listening as Amy gave a shaky “Hello?”

The kidnapper’s voice filled the room again. This time he didn’t sound as gleeful as he normally did. “Hello, Amy.”

She closed her eyes and squeezed the phone until her knuckles turned white. “Do you have Lucy? Is she still alive?”

“No questions. You’ll bring the money tonight. Six o’clock.”

Amy looked around the room, eyes wide. “You said six-thirty.”

“And now it’s six. Remember, you don’t make the rules. Six o’clock sharp. No police. No FBI. Just you and your husband.”

Amy’s eyes found Oaks. He shook his head and tapped his wrist, as though tapping a watch. It wasn’t enough time.

“That’s too soon,” Amy blurted. “We’re not—we don’t have all the money yet.”

“Oh, Amy,” he said with a sigh. “Do you want to see Lucy again or not?”

“Of course I do,” she said. “Please, I—”

“I’m sure you’ll manage. Remember, no police. No FBI. If I see even one of them near either of the drop sites, Lucy is dead. Do you hear me? Dead.”

Josie and Oaks looked at one another. She mouthed: either of the drop sites? He shook his head. This was not a good sign.

“Please,” Amy cried. “Don’t hurt her. I’ll do whatever you say. We just need more time. The money—"

“Tonight. Six o’clock. Both of you. Alone. No tracers, no trackers, no marked bills. Nothing that allows the FBI to follow the money. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” Amy said.

“You take one half of the money to the center of the football field of Denton East high school. You. Just you. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Just me. The football field.”

“Your husband takes the other half and delivers it to Lover’s Cave.”

Amy’s brow furrowed. “Wait. Lover’s Cave? What’s that?”

“You’ve got a whole army of police and FBI agents. Figure it out.”

“Okay, okay,” Amy said. “We’ll find it. Just please don’t hurt Lucy. Please.”

“I will hurt her if you lie to me, Amy.”

“I won’t lie.”

“Leave the police and FBI at home, both of you. You got that?”

“Yes, I promise. What about Lucy? Will you bring her? How do we get her back?”

There was a moment of silence. Then he said, “If you do what I say, she’ll be released to you twenty-four hours after the drop, in the same place that you lost her.”

“You mean the carousel?” Amy said, but he had already hung up.

Amy set the phone down and looked around at the faces in the room. One of the agents on the laptops said, “The number is registered to a Violet Young.”

“Oh Jesus,” Josie said.

Amy covered her mouth but not before everyone heard her shriek the word No!

Colin said, “What is it?”

“That’s Lucy’s teacher,” Amy said. “My God.”