the alternative any day.
A man who looked like he'd seen better days sat at a dining room table. Long, unkempt hair. Sweatpants and a tee shirt with holes in them. Three empty beer cars sitting in front of him.
“Uncle Mark?” Abigail asked. She looked at him from the living room.
“Yes, honey?”
“Is Mommy going to visit today?”
Mark took a long drink of beer. “I told you, she doesn't want you, Abby. I'm sorry. I've tried to call her. But she doesn't want you.”
“She wants to visit me, right? Even if she doesn't want me?”
He gave her an angry look and finished his beer.
Mason shook his head sadly. Forty-nine percent of juvenile kidnappings were committed by family members.
He walked into the dining room to look at Mark. Mark popped open another beer as he shuffled papers around. Mason looked closer to see he was filling out bills. That would save Mason a lot of time wandering around, trying to figure out where he was.
He peeked over Mark's shoulder and found what he was looking for.
Percy, Maryland.
Just one county over from where Mason lived.
He knelt next to Abigail to check for any injuries he might have missed. Satisfied the girl would be okay for another hour or so, he whispered in her ear.
“Don't worry, Abigail. This will all be over soon.”
Mason closed his eyes and concentrated on his apartment and his body. The sounds of the cartoon Abigail watched slowly faded away. He felt the couch under him, the sunlight coming in through the sliding balcony door. Lucy danced in her cage, wanting to get out.
He didn't sit up right away. He waited a few seconds, making sure the nausea wasn't overwhelming. One time he mind slid to a dead teenage boy, and in the rush to get back to his body, vomited all over himself.
He was halfway to the Percy police station when he made the anonymous call. He made the mistake of calling the parents directly before. There's no one more irrational and emotional than a parent who's just been told where to find his or her child.
He called the police, reported Abigail's location, and that was it.
He parked in front of the police station and reclined the seat in his Jeep. The soft-top was folded down, and the sun felt great on his skin. He enjoyed the sights and sounds around him. The cars driving down the street, couples walking hand in hand on the sidewalk.
He was almost asleep when the squad cars pulled up.
They led Abigail inside first. She arrived in a car by herself. There were tears running down her face. Mark was a few minutes after her, his hands handcuffed behind his back.
Mason could have waited for Abigail's parents to show up before making another move. All he had to do was collect his money and go home. The money wasn't the only thing to him. He needed money to eat, but there was another reason he found children for a living.
He relaxed and mind slid one more time.
He appeared in the middle of the street, just a few feet away from his body, facing the police station. He made sure not to turn around to look at himself in the Jeep. Seeing himself with his eyes closed always gave him the creeps.
He walked through the police station. It took him a while of searching through offices, but he finally found Abigail. She was in a room playing with toys the police had scattered about. A psychiatrist sat in a corner chair, observing the young girl.
Mason sat in the opposite corner.
An hour passed. The door opened, and two crying parents nearly pushed their way inside. Abigail looked up, her eyes wide. She dropped the Barbie doll she played with.
“Mommy! Daddy!”
Everyone cried together. Mason felt his own breathing hitch a little as he fought back tears.
This was why he found missing children.
The Wheatleys cried and hugged for a few minutes. The psychiatrist finally had to interrupt them for an interview. The psychiatrist and the police both had a lot of questions. Mason knew there would be many interviews for the Wheatleys in the future, especially
A man who looked like he'd seen better days sat at a dining room table. Long, unkempt hair. Sweatpants and a tee shirt with holes in them. Three empty beer cars sitting in front of him.
“Uncle Mark?” Abigail asked. She looked at him from the living room.
“Yes, honey?”
“Is Mommy going to visit today?”
Mark took a long drink of beer. “I told you, she doesn't want you, Abby. I'm sorry. I've tried to call her. But she doesn't want you.”
“She wants to visit me, right? Even if she doesn't want me?”
He gave her an angry look and finished his beer.
Mason shook his head sadly. Forty-nine percent of juvenile kidnappings were committed by family members.
He walked into the dining room to look at Mark. Mark popped open another beer as he shuffled papers around. Mason looked closer to see he was filling out bills. That would save Mason a lot of time wandering around, trying to figure out where he was.
He peeked over Mark's shoulder and found what he was looking for.
Percy, Maryland.
Just one county over from where Mason lived.
He knelt next to Abigail to check for any injuries he might have missed. Satisfied the girl would be okay for another hour or so, he whispered in her ear.
“Don't worry, Abigail. This will all be over soon.”
Mason closed his eyes and concentrated on his apartment and his body. The sounds of the cartoon Abigail watched slowly faded away. He felt the couch under him, the sunlight coming in through the sliding balcony door. Lucy danced in her cage, wanting to get out.
He didn't sit up right away. He waited a few seconds, making sure the nausea wasn't overwhelming. One time he mind slid to a dead teenage boy, and in the rush to get back to his body, vomited all over himself.
He was halfway to the Percy police station when he made the anonymous call. He made the mistake of calling the parents directly before. There's no one more irrational and emotional than a parent who's just been told where to find his or her child.
He called the police, reported Abigail's location, and that was it.
He parked in front of the police station and reclined the seat in his Jeep. The soft-top was folded down, and the sun felt great on his skin. He enjoyed the sights and sounds around him. The cars driving down the street, couples walking hand in hand on the sidewalk.
He was almost asleep when the squad cars pulled up.
They led Abigail inside first. She arrived in a car by herself. There were tears running down her face. Mark was a few minutes after her, his hands handcuffed behind his back.
Mason could have waited for Abigail's parents to show up before making another move. All he had to do was collect his money and go home. The money wasn't the only thing to him. He needed money to eat, but there was another reason he found children for a living.
He relaxed and mind slid one more time.
He appeared in the middle of the street, just a few feet away from his body, facing the police station. He made sure not to turn around to look at himself in the Jeep. Seeing himself with his eyes closed always gave him the creeps.
He walked through the police station. It took him a while of searching through offices, but he finally found Abigail. She was in a room playing with toys the police had scattered about. A psychiatrist sat in a corner chair, observing the young girl.
Mason sat in the opposite corner.
An hour passed. The door opened, and two crying parents nearly pushed their way inside. Abigail looked up, her eyes wide. She dropped the Barbie doll she played with.
“Mommy! Daddy!”
Everyone cried together. Mason felt his own breathing hitch a little as he fought back tears.
This was why he found missing children.
The Wheatleys cried and hugged for a few minutes. The psychiatrist finally had to interrupt them for an interview. The psychiatrist and the police both had a lot of questions. Mason knew there would be many interviews for the Wheatleys in the future, especially
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