discussing their favorite painters; the next two men wearing ski masks
came running up behind them, it was their footsteps that alerted Danny.
He turned already prepared to fight and
his fist sent one man crashing to the ground but a third jumped from the car.
Meghan was knocked sideways over the wrought iron banister of a stoop. Her
palms and knees collided with hard concrete and she screamed in pain. There was
a short and serious scuffle going on between Danny and the three men and she
got to her feet and dashed in.
Her fists connected with the back of one
man’s head, he shook her off and sent her back down onto the ground. Danny
punched another one, sending bright scarlet blood squirting from his nose. The
sounds of the scuffle caused a window above to open and she yelled, “Call the
police!” before charging back in.
She was knocked down a third time and
that time her head connected with a gray concrete stair. Dark spots exploded in
her vision and she put a shaking hand up to the wet trickle of blood oozing
down her forehead. Danny was still fighting but he was one against three and he
was being dragged away slowly but surely.
Meghan stared in horror as he was shoved
into the car and the door slammed shut. The engine revved and roared and the
tires squealed, leaving black streaks on the pavement. As the car passed her
she saw one of the men yank the mask off of his face and she let out a tiny
shrill sound that was half disbelief, half misery.
~ * ~ * ~
The cops had taken her statement and she
sat, alone and in a huddle, on the same stoop that had almost knocked her out.
The ambulance drivers wanted her to go to the hospital but she refused. While
she had told the cops almost everything she had not told them all of it, she
knew who one of the men who had abducted Danny was.
He was Gerry Moore; a shadow of a man
known to do her father’s bidding.
~ * ~ * ~
Night had fallen and she stood in the
shadows that gathered around her family’s summer home. The light burning in one
of the lower windows cast a square of golden light on the well-tended lawn and
she skirted it stealthily before heading for a small but sturdy drainpipe
against the easterly facing wall.
The alarm would go off if she so much as
touched the wall but the window above her was open, it had a broken latch that had
yet to be repaired, a fact she knew because she had been the one to break it
and she had never told anyone, she had been too afraid she would get yelled at.
“Hi Daddy,” she muttered as she reached
for the drainpipe, “It’s the prodigal daughter. And I have come for my man.”
She put one hand over the other and began
the climb.
~ * ~ * ~
The window loomed above her head and
Meghan pulled herself up with one last effort. She put her fingers on the frame
and pushed lightly, hoping that nobody had discovered the broken latch.
To her immense relief the window swung
open soundlessly and she clambered inside. Her feet hit the thick carpeting and
she stood there, adrenaline pumping through her veins and a slight sheen of
sweat coating her body. Her breath was a little too fast and it hit her that as
serious as what she was doing was, she was actually having fun.
She let her eyes adjust to the gloom.
There was a faint gleam of light coming from one direction, it was boxy in
shape and so she knew that the door lay that way, and that the hallway had been
left lit. That might pose a problem, she admitted to herself.
She knew the house fairly well but the
truth was she had been left at the house in the city more than she had been
brought to the waterfront house in which she stood. She knew, thanks to Gregory
locking her in them, that there was an extensive underground cellar system,
complete with a wine cellar and a small room that had been used to hold the
flotsam and jetsam of their summer lives: old boogie boards and the wicker lawn
furniture, the croquet sets and the nets from the tennis courts. She
came running up behind them, it was their footsteps that alerted Danny.
He turned already prepared to fight and
his fist sent one man crashing to the ground but a third jumped from the car.
Meghan was knocked sideways over the wrought iron banister of a stoop. Her
palms and knees collided with hard concrete and she screamed in pain. There was
a short and serious scuffle going on between Danny and the three men and she
got to her feet and dashed in.
Her fists connected with the back of one
man’s head, he shook her off and sent her back down onto the ground. Danny
punched another one, sending bright scarlet blood squirting from his nose. The
sounds of the scuffle caused a window above to open and she yelled, “Call the
police!” before charging back in.
She was knocked down a third time and
that time her head connected with a gray concrete stair. Dark spots exploded in
her vision and she put a shaking hand up to the wet trickle of blood oozing
down her forehead. Danny was still fighting but he was one against three and he
was being dragged away slowly but surely.
Meghan stared in horror as he was shoved
into the car and the door slammed shut. The engine revved and roared and the
tires squealed, leaving black streaks on the pavement. As the car passed her
she saw one of the men yank the mask off of his face and she let out a tiny
shrill sound that was half disbelief, half misery.
~ * ~ * ~
The cops had taken her statement and she
sat, alone and in a huddle, on the same stoop that had almost knocked her out.
The ambulance drivers wanted her to go to the hospital but she refused. While
she had told the cops almost everything she had not told them all of it, she
knew who one of the men who had abducted Danny was.
He was Gerry Moore; a shadow of a man
known to do her father’s bidding.
~ * ~ * ~
Night had fallen and she stood in the
shadows that gathered around her family’s summer home. The light burning in one
of the lower windows cast a square of golden light on the well-tended lawn and
she skirted it stealthily before heading for a small but sturdy drainpipe
against the easterly facing wall.
The alarm would go off if she so much as
touched the wall but the window above her was open, it had a broken latch that had
yet to be repaired, a fact she knew because she had been the one to break it
and she had never told anyone, she had been too afraid she would get yelled at.
“Hi Daddy,” she muttered as she reached
for the drainpipe, “It’s the prodigal daughter. And I have come for my man.”
She put one hand over the other and began
the climb.
~ * ~ * ~
The window loomed above her head and
Meghan pulled herself up with one last effort. She put her fingers on the frame
and pushed lightly, hoping that nobody had discovered the broken latch.
To her immense relief the window swung
open soundlessly and she clambered inside. Her feet hit the thick carpeting and
she stood there, adrenaline pumping through her veins and a slight sheen of
sweat coating her body. Her breath was a little too fast and it hit her that as
serious as what she was doing was, she was actually having fun.
She let her eyes adjust to the gloom.
There was a faint gleam of light coming from one direction, it was boxy in
shape and so she knew that the door lay that way, and that the hallway had been
left lit. That might pose a problem, she admitted to herself.
She knew the house fairly well but the
truth was she had been left at the house in the city more than she had been
brought to the waterfront house in which she stood. She knew, thanks to Gregory
locking her in them, that there was an extensive underground cellar system,
complete with a wine cellar and a small room that had been used to hold the
flotsam and jetsam of their summer lives: old boogie boards and the wicker lawn
furniture, the croquet sets and the nets from the tennis courts. She
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