Thomas's heart was pounding in his chest as he took hesitant steps towards the back of the building. Each step seemed to echo in his ears, amplifying his anxiety. His mind raced with questions: "Will I get shot? Will Beatrice be there?" He felt the weight of the briefcase in his hand, a physical reminder of the gravity of the situation.
As Thomas moved closer to the meeting point from L's Store and into the forest, he cast a glance over his shoulder. Behind him, Detective Phoebe, Officer Chris, and several other police officers were carefully sneaking through the trees, their presence a silent reassurance that he was not alone. He drew strength from their determination, especially from Detective Phoebe's unwavering resolve.
Ahead in an open clearing, an old, abandoned gray car sat in the woods, rust covering its surface. Damaged parts lay scattered around, patches of moss and crawling ants adding to its eerie, forsaken appearance. The car looked like it had been left to rot for years, a stark contrast to the urgency of the moment.
Detective Phoebe and the officers hid behind the trees, their eyes trained on Thomas, their movements silent and deliberate. Thomas scanned the area, but there was no one in sight. The stillness was unnerving, broken only by the distant chirping of crickets. He checked his watch—four o'clock. The agreed time. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Hello? Is anyone there?!” he called out, his voice trembling slightly. The woods remained silent, the only response being the rustling of leaves. Thomas tightened his grip on the briefcase and shouted again, “II have the briefcase you asked for!” Suddenly, a silhouette emerged from the trees. Thomas squinted to make out the figure. It was a man, dressed in a dark brown leather jacket, gray pants, and black gloves. His face was obscured by a creepy Halloween mask, its grotesque features adding to the fear that gripped Thomas's heart. The man moved with a deliberate, menacing calm, his eyes hidden behind the mask's hollow sockets. Thomas glanced around, searching for any sign of Beatrice, but she was nowhere to be seen. He felt a pang of dread. The man had come alone.
The kidnapper stopped a few paces away from Thomas, his gaze fixed on the briefcase. The silence between them was deafening, the tension almost tangible. From her hiding spot, Detective Phoebe's eyes were locked on the scene, her body tense and ready to spring into action.
He stood before Thomas, their eyes locked in a tense standoff. Despite his knees feeling like jelly, Thomas's heart burned with determination. He knew he had to face this to save Beatrice. “You are Thomas, right?” the man asked, his voice deep and menacing. “Yes,” Thomas replied, his voice steady despite his fear. “That's the briefcase?” The man pointed at the briefcase in Thomas's hand. “Yes,” Thomas answered again. “Put it on the ground.”
Thomas knelt down on the grassy ground, carefully placing the briefcase in front of him. The man watched him intently before stepping forward to retrieve it. As he knelt down to open the briefcase, Thomas’s eyes never left him. Thomas’s voice wavered as he spoke, “Where’s Beatrice? I have the money, but I need to see her first.” The masked man tilted his head slightly, as if considering Thomas’s words. Then, without warning, he reached into his jacket, and Thomas’s breath caught in his throat.
From behind the trees, Detective Phoebe’s heart raced. She had shared her fears with Thomas, her determination not to fail again. Now, as she watched the scene unfold, she silently vowed to herself and to the memory of the child she couldn’t save that she wouldn’t let this end in tragedy. The kidnapper’s hand emerged, not with a weapon, but with a small, handheld radio—like a walkie-talkie. He pressed a button, and a distorted voice crackled through, “You’ll see her once I get the money. No tricks, or she gets hurt.”
Thomas’s heart sank, but he stood his ground, drawing strength from Detective Phoebe’s earlier reassurance. “I want to hear her voice. I need to know she’s okay.” The kidnapper hesitated for a moment before pressing the button again. The radio crackled, and then a faint, trembling voice came through. “Let me out of here! Help me!” Beatrice cried.
Thomas’s eyes welled up with tears, but he stayed focused. He glanced towards the trees, where Detective Phoebe gave a subtle nod, signaling that they were ready. Thomas took a deep breath, preparing himself for the confrontation. He knew that with Detective Phoebe, Officer Chris, and the rest of the police force backing him, they had a chance to bring Beatrice home safely. As he stepped forward to hand over the briefcase, the tension in the air was electric. The moment of truth had arrived, and Thomas was determined to see it through, no matter the cost.
“Where is she?” Thomas demanded, his voice firm. The man’s eyes lit up with greed as he saw the stacks of money inside the briefcase. “I just showed you. She’s fine—” “No. I want to know where SHE is,” Thomas pressed, his patience wearing thin. “Safe... somewhere,” the man said, standing up with the briefcase in hand. Detective Phoebe, hidden behind the trees, tensed up. Her hand hovered over her gun, ready to act. She listened intently to the exchange, fearing the worst. “Somewhere? Give her to us NOW. You already got what you asked for,” Thomas insisted, his voice rising with urgency. The man’s creepy Halloween mask turned towards Thomas, a sinister smile evident in his tone. “I’m sorry, kid.”
“What?!” Thomas exclaimed, taking a step back, his heart racing. Detective Phoebe’s eyes widened in alarm. The police officers around her began to pull their guns from their holsters, ready to spring into action. “You should run now if I were you,” the man whispered, his hand reaching into his jacket. Thomas caught a glimpse of something metallic, shiny—
“A gun!” Detective Phoebe shouted. The man pointed the gun directly at Thomas’s head, his finger on the trigger. In a heartbeat, Detective Phoebe stepped out from behind the trees, her own gun drawn and aimed at the kidnapper. She walked slowly towards Thomas, her eyes never leaving the man. “Drop the weapon!” she commanded, her voice steady and authoritative.
The man hesitated, his eyes flickering between Thomas and Detective Phoebe. “You don’t want to do this,” she continued, her voice calm but firm. “Put the gun down, and no one gets hurt.” Thomas stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. The man’s grip on the gun tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might pull the trigger. “Think about what you’re doing,” Detective Phoebe urged, taking another step forward. “You have the money. Let the boy go.” The man’s eyes darted around, realizing he was surrounded. “This is not how it’s supposed to work out,” the man muttered, his grip tightening on the gun. BANG! BANG! The deafening sound of gunfire erupted, and Thomas and Detective Phoebe instinctively dropped to the ground.
...
“NO!” howled Officer Chris, firing back at the man as he tried to shield Thomas and Phoebe. Thomas, disoriented and heart pounding, touched his head and realized he had miraculously dodged the bullet. He looked at Detective Phoebe, who was also unharmed. “Detective!” he yelled, his voice shaking. “I’m fine! No wounds, don’t worry, Thomas!” Detective Phoebe assured him, her eyes scanning the scene. She saw the man bolting away with the briefcase in hand.
“He’s running away!” Officer Chris shouted, immediately giving chase with other policemen close behind. BANG! The echo of gunfire reverberated through the forest. Detective Phoebe quickly got to her feet and reached out to Thomas. “Come on, get up!” Thomas grabbed her hand, and she pulled him up. “Go to a safe place! Let us handle this!” she commanded, her voice firm. She sprinted into the woods, the sound of gunfire growing fainter as she disappeared among the trees. Thomas, his heart still racing, took off back toward L’s Store, replaying the events in his mind.
“Damn it!” he cursed, frustration boiling over. “I should’ve brought a weapon with me—I should’ve taken off his mask while he was touching the briefcase. I’m such a fool!” As he ran, his thoughts raced faster than his feet. He felt a mix of relief and guilt, thankful he was unharmed but tormented by the missed opportunity to unmask the kidnapper. The image of the man’s masked face haunted him, and the sound of gunfire still echoed in his ears.
He cried, tears streaming down his face as he ran back toward L’s Store, his heart pounding with each step. He looked back at the forest, his mind racing. “Where would they go?” Thomas wondered, pausing for a moment in front of L’s Store. “Wait...” he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in thought. “If they’re running in the woods, where would they end up? The forest surrounds Crystal River, and there are no neighboring towns nearby. The nearest town is far away, so the kidnapper would need a vehicle to escape... Or maybe... maybe he’s hiding from the police?” Thomas’s thoughts spun in a frenzy.
“The forest is vast and like a maze here, but if he tries to run away and steal a vehicle, the nearest places are the fire station or the neighborhood... unless he tries to jump into the river and hide there?” Thomas stopped for a moment, his breathing ragged. “Would the kidnapper go to Obsidian Park?” he wondered aloud. There was no time left to deliberate; he needed to decide quickly. There was a high chance he might be wrong, but he had to take the risk. “Screw it!” Thomas shouted, his voice echoing in the still air. He took off down Amber Drive, his legs pumping furiously. Officer Walter, along with Mr. and Mrs. Williams, caught them who were still in the police car. “Thomas? Where are you going?!” the officer shouted, hoping for Thomas to hear him.
He sprinted past buildings, weaving between pedestrians who glanced at him curiously. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he didn’t slow down. If the kidnapper was heading to Obsidian Park, Thomas had to make it there in time. In the distance, he saw the park gates wide open, a beacon of hope. He pushed himself harder, his lungs burning and his muscles screaming in protest. Every step brought him closer, and he refused to stop. Finally, he reached the park, stumbling to a halt at the gates. He bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He scanned the area, eyes darting from tree to tree, searching for any sign of the kidnapper.
As he entered the park gates, Thomas saw a serene scene. Families were having picnics, people were biking around, and some were grilling barbecues while enjoying the river view. The peace was shattered by the sound of gunfire echoing in the distance. Thomas knew the kidnapper was nearby. People in the park were confused and curious about the source of the gunfire. The sound grew louder and closer. Thomas turned towards the direction of the noise, spotting movement on the hill beside the park.
BANG! BANG! The kidnapper emerged from the woods on the hill, heading straight for the park. Thomas’s heart raced as he realized his prediction was correct—the kidnapper was indeed coming towards the park. The tall metal wire fence encircling the park offered some reassurance, but Thomas knew he had to act fast. “Where is that sound coming from?!” a frightened woman screamed from a distance. Thomas scanned his surroundings. To his left, he saw four portable toilet units lined up with people waiting in line. To his right, a picnic area caught his eye, especially the two foldable metal chairs. An old man sat in one of the chairs.
A sudden idea flashed in Thomas’s mind. With little time to spare, he sprinted towards the old man, who watched him approach with curiosity. “What are you doing, kid?” the old man asked as Thomas, panting, reached him. “Can I borrow one of your chairs? I badly need it,” Thomas said, grabbing the foldable metal chair with both hands. “Hey, what are you doing with that?” the old man protested, but Thomas was already running back towards the portable toilets, the chair in hand, ignoring the old man’s shouts. “Return it, kid, okay?!” the old man called after him. Thomas unfolded the metal chair, positioning it flat. He saw the kidnapper climbing the park’s metal fence, firing bullets into the air, and causing widespread panic.
BANG! BANG! People screamed in fear, dropping everything and running. Children cried as the kidnapper vaulted over the tall fence. Thomas hid behind the portable toilets, waiting for the right moment. The kidnapper headed towards the park exit. Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris, along with other officers, were in pursuit but were slowed by the fence. Thomas saw them struggling to get through. The kidnapper was getting closer to Thomas’s hiding spot by the portable toilets, the only clear path to the park exit. Thomas knew he had to act. He tightened his grip on the foldable metal chair, ready to strike. The kidnapper drew closer... until...
Thomas sprang from his hiding spot, swinging the chair with all his might. The metal connected with the kidnapper’s head with a resounding thud. The force of the blow knocked the man to the ground, unconscious. BAM! The park fell silent, people gasping in shock. The kidnapper lay motionless on the ground, his Halloween mask still in place, his gun out of reach, and the briefcase out of his hands. Thomas felt a rush of satisfaction as he stood over the fallen man.
Detective Phoebe arrived at the scene, panting. She saw the kidnapper unconscious and Thomas holding the foldable metal chair. “Good job, Thomas,” she said, her voice filled with pride and relief. Thomas nodded, picking up the briefcase from the ground. He had done it. The kidnapper was caught, and Beatrice was one step closer to being found. Detective Phoebe looked over her shoulder and saw Officer Chris and the other police officers catching up, panting from the chase. The officers swiftly moved to arrest and handcuff the kidnapper. Officer Chris knelt down, carefully removing the Halloween mask from the kidnapper’s face. His expression shifted to one of shock, mirrored by Detective Phoebe. “It’s not the butler?!” Phoebe exclaimed in disbelief.
Thomas’s reaction was even more intense. “WHAT?!” he screamed, his voice echoing through the park. He recognized the face beneath the mask, a face he never would have suspected. “Paul?!” Thomas shouted, his voice tinged with agony and confusion. Paul, his classmate—the same Paul who constantly made fun of others at school, including Beatrice. Thomas’s mind reeled. How could it be Paul? Why would he do something like this?
Detective Phoebe, noticing Thomas’s distressed expression, asked, “Thomas, you recognize the kidnapper?!” “It’s my classmate Paul—it’s him!” Thomas responded, his voice filled with incredulity. “Did we see him earlier at school?” Phoebe inquired, trying to piece things together. “No, he was absent today,” Thomas replied, suddenly stopping as a realization dawned on him. “Paul was absent today because he was preparing for the deal—that explains why he wasn’t at school!”
Paul, now handcuffed, was being dragged towards a police car by the officers. Onlookers murmured among themselves, the scene causing quite a stir in the park. Thomas, still reeling from the shock, handed the briefcase over to Detective Phoebe. “Send him to the interrogation room at the police precinct. We’ll be there in a minute,” Detective Phoebe instructed one of the officers.
As Paul was placed into the back of the police car, Thomas stared at him, his emotions a whirlwind of betrayal and confusion. “How could you, Paul?!” he whispered, his voice barely audible. The scene around them was chaotic. Families who had been enjoying their picnics were now hurriedly packing up, trying to leave the area. Children clung to their parents, scared and confused by the sudden burst of violence. The tranquility of the park was shattered, replaced by a tense atmosphere. As they prepared to leave for the police precinct, he couldn’t help but think about Beatrice and what she must have gone through. He hoped, more than anything, that they would find her soon and bring her safely home.
The police cars left the park, their sirens blaring as they sped towards the station. Thomas sat in the back of the car with Detective Phoebe, his heart heavy with the weight of what had just happened. He couldn’t shake the image of Paul’s face from his mind. How could someone he knew, someone he saw every day at school, be capable of such a terrible act?
Thomas grappled with a maelstrom of emotions. Anger, sadness, hope, and despair crashed over him in relentless waves. The revelation that Paul was the kidnapper left him feeling isolated and betrayed. He struggled to understand how someone he considered a mere nuisance could be capable of such evil.
Thomas let the tears fall. He punched his chest. “How could he do this? Why would he do this?” The questions echoed in his mind, unanswered and tormenting. “Thomas,” she began softly, “I know this is incredibly hard for you. But I want you to know that we’re doing everything we can to bring Beatrice home.” Thomas nodded, wiping away a stray tear. “I just don’t understand why Paul would do this. He was always a jerk, but kidnapping? I never thought...”
The detective sighed. “Sometimes people surprise us in the worst ways. But you have to hold on to the good people, Thomas. Don’t let this destroy your trust in everyone.” “I don’t know if I can,” Thomas admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not alone,” Phoebe said firmly. “You have your family, and you have us. We’ll get through this together.” Thomas looked at her, searching for the reassurance he desperately needed. Phoebe’s eyes were filled with determination and kindness. In that moment, Thomas felt a glimmer of hope. Throughout it all, Thomas never lost sight of the goal: finding Beatrice and bringing her home.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“Stay focused.” The detective took a deep breath, steadying herself, repeating silently. Her heart raced every time new evidence was discovered. She maintained a calm exterior, a necessity in her line of work, but inside, she could feel the relentless thud of anxiety.
Thomas leaned against the wall in the police precinct, his eyes red and puffy from lack of sleep. He hadn’t eaten or rested properly in days. Detective Phoebe approached him, concern etched on her face. “Thomas, you need to take care of yourself. We need you to be strong.” “I can’t rest. Not while Beatrice is out there,” Thomas shook his head, the weight of his worry making his voice crack.
“I understand how you feel,” she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But you won’t be able to help her if you collapse from exhaustion. Take a few minutes to eat something. Even just a little bit. It will help you think more clearly.” Thomas looked at her, his resolve unwavering despite his fatigue. “Every minute I spend eating or sleeping feels like a minute wasted. Beatrice is out there, and she needs us.”
Detective Phoebe sighed, knowing she couldn’t push him too hard. “I get it. Just promise me you’ll try. We can’t afford to lose you, too.” Thomas nodded reluctantly. “I’ll try,” he muttered, but the determination in his eyes showed that his focus would remain on finding Beatrice, no matter the cost. They looked at what was in front of them; Paul, moving slowly as if he were about to wake up.
Paul slowly opened his eyes and blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, trying to focus on the blurry figures in front of him. Detective Phoebe, Officer Chris, and Thomas sat observing him intently. There was something tight around his arm, connected by a wire. His index finger bore a black ring-like device, and a thick wire coiled around his torso. He tried to move but found his wrists handcuffed to the chair. He glanced to his side and saw a man sitting by a box-shaped machine, scribbling on a notepad with a black pen. The wires from Paul’s body led to this machine.
“Where am I?” Paul asked, panic rising as he struggled against his restraints. “You are currently at the police precinct, where you are being interrogated for kidnapping Beatrice Williams,” explained Detective Phoebe. “Please don’t move; the wires might get dislodged. It might electrocute you,” Officer Chris threatened, his tone menacing. Paul’s legs began to shake, his heart pounding in his chest. “What is this thing connected to me?” “That right there is a polygraph instrument. It will tell us whether you’re lying or not, so you better tell us the truth,” Officer Chris said, his eyes hard.
Detective Phoebe opened her notepad. “Let’s get started, shall we? My name is Detective Phoebe, this is Officer Chris, and that’s Thomas. Next to him are Mr. and Mrs. Williams. Your parents are on their way. They were shocked to learn you were involved in this.” Thomas leaned forward. “He’s Paul Steele, one of my classmates. He’s known for bullying others, including Beatrice.” Detective Phoebe nodded. “Okay, walk me through exactly what happened.”
Paul cleared his throat. “I... was planning to kidnap Beatrice, and... that’s pretty much it.” Silence filled the room. “That’s it?” Detective Phoebe asked, her voice laced with skepticism. The tension in the room was palpable. Detective Phoebe leaned closer, her eyes piercing. “You’re not being honest with me. We need to get to the truth. We’ve talked to several people.”
Sweat beaded on Paul’s forehead, and his knees quaked. He remained silent, his mind racing. “We’ve talked to your classmates, Beatrice’s teachers, and friends. They told us some interesting things. So... what do you know?” Detective Phoebe repeated, her gaze unwavering. Paul didn’t utter a word. “Damn it, say something!” Officer Chris slammed the table, his fists clenched in frustration.
“I-I don’t know anything!” “Then why is the polygraph telling me different? Why is it telling me different?” Officer Chris demanded. “Why is your heart telling me different?” “I’m nervous!” Paul exclaimed. “I don’t think nervousness has something to do with it, kid.” Officer Chris countered. “Your heart itself fights back against that lie you’re creating— and you can try to compose yourself and all, but I know this; your heart will always reveal the truth.” Detective Phoebe continued, “We talked to all the neighbors and even checked L’s Store’s surveillance cameras, where Beatrice disappeared. So what if they told us that they saw someone who looks exactly like you?” Paul trembled, his silence deafening.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Paul’s parents walked in. “Hello, I am Paul’s mother, Mrs. Steele. Paul-- what have you gotten yourself into?!” she cried, sitting down heavily, her husband beside her. “Paul made a deal with the Williams for two hundred thousand dollars in exchange for Beatrice. He tried to shoot Thomas but was caught in front of Obsidian Park,” Detective Phoebe said. “What?! How did we not know any of this?! This isn’t true, right, Paul?” Mr. Steele, Paul’s father, asked anxiously. Paul stayed silent. “If he doesn’t talk, we’re sending him to police custody. Is that okay with you?” Detective Phoebe asked.
“Look, son, we just want the truth. Your mom needs to know the truth. Everyone here deserves to know the truth,” Mr. Steele pleaded. He remained silent, tears streaming down his face. “If you stay silent, there’s nothing I can do to help you! You’ll be sent to jail!” Mrs. Steele screamed, her voice breaking. Tension escalated. Mr. Steele wept. “I don’t want to see you locked up, son. Please, tell the truth.” Still, Paul said nothing. Detective Phoebe sighed. “Escort him to his cell, please.” “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t...” Mr. Steele cried. Mrs. Steele pointed a trembling finger at her son. “Oh, you... YOU!!” she sobbed, her world shattered.
“As long as you tell us the truth, we can minimize your jail time,” Detective Phoebe said as officers placed handcuffs on Paul’s wrists and escorted him out. “I’m sorry for the disturbance,” Detective Phoebe said to Mrs. Steele, placing a comforting hand on her back. “No, it’s okay. We need to know this,” Mrs. Steele replied, her voice hollow. Paul’s parents exited the police precinct, devastated. Detective Phoebe looked down, disappointment etched on her face. “Is Detective Phoebe okay? Does she need water?” Mr. Williams asked. “No, I’m fine, thank you,” she replied.
Thomas noticed Mrs. Williams’s upset expression as they left. Mr. Williams shook his head, walking out. They all parted ways, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Mr. and Mrs. Williams got into their car, while Paul’s parents walked down the street, sobbing. Detective Phoebe and Officer Chris remained inside. Thomas overheard Detective Phoebe whisper, “I need coffee,” as she re-entered the building. He began his walk home.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Ding, dong! The doorbell rang as Thomas stood on the front porch of his house. A faint voice called out from inside, “Coming!” Moments later, the door opened to reveal his mother. “Welcome back, Thomas. How did the deal go?” she asked. “It was a crazy day, Mom. The dealer and the kidnapper turned out to be Paul himself!” His mother’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping in shock. “P-Paul? Your classmate?! Come on, get inside!” she urged, pulling Thomas into the house. She closed the door behind them, her concern evident. “Yeah, Mom, he was there and he was going to shoot me, but the police captured him. I just—”
“Shoot you?!” she interrupted, her voice trembling. She let out a sigh and suddenly wrapped her arms around Thomas. “I’m scared of losing you,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest. Her worry was clear from the tone of her voice and the intensity of her embrace. “Hey, Mom, I’m fine! I came home safe and sound,” Thomas reassured her, placing his hands on her back and hugging her tightly. She let go, looking him over to make sure he was really okay. “Now that you’re here and all tired, I cooked pasta for dinner,” she said, guiding him to the dining table. “This looks delicious!” Thomas exclaimed, sitting down. His mother placed plates on the table and they began to eat. “So, what happened with Paul?” she asked. “Well, I’m glad we caught him. He was sent to the police precinct, where they interrogated him, but he didn’t say a word. Now he’s behind bars,” Thomas explained between bites.
“I didn’t think it was one of your classmates who kidnapped Beatrice. God, how scary this is...” his mother whispered, taking a spoonful of pasta. “I just hope we find Beatrice, Mom. It’s all I want,” Thomas added, continuing to eat alongside her, the weight of the day’s events still heavy on his mind. His mother paused, looking deeply concerned. “Thomas, I can’t believe Paul would do something like this. He always seemed like such a quiet, harmless boy. Were there any signs? Anything that could have warned us?” Thomas shook his head. “No, Mom. Paul was always just... there. He made fun of some classmates, but I never thought he was capable of something like this.”
She sighed, her eyes filled with worry. “I’ve always trusted you to choose good friends, Thomas. But this... It’s terrifying. You were so close to getting hurt, or worse. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.” Her voice wavered, tears welling up in her eyes. Thomas reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “I’m okay, Mom. Really. The police were there in time.” “I know, but it’s hard not to worry. And poor Beatrice... her family must be beside themselves with fear,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“What if something happens to her? How do we know she’s safe? This whole situation is just... awful.” Thomas nodded, feeling the weight of her concerns. “We’re doing everything we can to find her. The police are on it, and they won’t stop until she’s safe.” His mother nodded, but her worry didn’t fade. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Thomas. I don’t want you getting involved in anything dangerous. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” “I promise, Mom. I’ll be careful,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. She gave him a small, sad smile. “You’re so brave, Thomas. Just... make sure you stay safe. If you ever need to talk about what happened, I’m here for you.” “Thanks, Mom,” Thomas said, feeling a little more at ease. They continued eating, the weight of the day’s events hanging over them, but comforted by the shared meal and each other’s presence.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
All cozy and cleaned up, Thomas yawned as he lay his head down on his bed. He looked at the ceiling with open eyes, the events of the day replaying in his mind like a disturbing movie. “I still can’t believe that Paul would do that,” he muttered to himself. The thought of his classmate, someone he saw every day, being capable of such a crime was incomprehensible. He closed his eyes and tried to will away the thoughts that crowded his mind. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled his day. He could hear the faint ticking of the clock on his nightstand, a steady reminder of time moving forward.
Thomas turned onto his side, pulling the covers up to his chin. The room felt colder, the shadows longer and more oppressive. He tried to think of happier times, moments that didn’t involve fear and uncertainty. His thoughts drifted back to the first day he met Paul. They had been assigned to the same group for a science project. Paul had been quiet but seemed eager to participate. Thomas remembered how they had laughed over their failed attempts to create a working volcano model. It all seemed so distant now, almost like it had happened to different people.
As sleep finally began to take over, Thomas found himself hoping that tomorrow would bring answers. Answers about Paul, about Beatrice, and about why everything had gone so horribly wrong. His breathing slowed, and the tension in his muscles eased. Just as he was about to succumb to sleep, he heard a soft knock on his door.
“Thomas? Are you still awake?” his mother’s voice came through the door, gentle and concerned. “Yeah, Mom. I’m awake,” he replied, sitting up slightly. She opened the door and stepped inside, a worried expression on her face. “I just wanted to check on you. I know today was really tough.” Thomas nodded, the exhaustion clear in his eyes. “I’m okay, Mom. Just trying to make sense of it all.” She sat on the edge of his bed, smoothing his hair back gently. “I know, sweetheart. It’s a lot to handle. But we’ll get through this together. You’re not alone.” “Thanks, Mom,” Thomas said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate it.” She kissed his forehead and stood up. “Try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Okay, Mom. Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Thomas,” she replied, leaving the room quietly. Thomas lay back down, her presence having brought a small measure of comfort. He closed his eyes once more, letting the darkness envelop him. As he finally drifted off to sleep, he hoped for dreams that would bring peace, if only for a few hours.
...
The crisp morning air carried their conversation as Thomas and Beatrice walked towards the Crystal River School. It was all familiar, as if it had already happened before.
“Thomas? Are you listening to me?” Beatrice asked, noticing his distracted demeanor. “Uh- yeah. What’s up?” he replied, trying to focus. Beatrice continued, “So as I was saying, Butler Eric has vanished from our house today.”
Thomas interrupted, “You know what, Beatrice? What if we go home and skip school today?” Beatrice laughed, “What? Are you serious?” But Thomas was insistent, “Yeah, let’s watch TV all day and play games instead! It’ll be fun!”
Beatrice hesitated, squinting her eyes and looking down. “But we’ll miss lessons! There might be an activity waiting for us at school!” Thomas dismissed her concerns, “Screw that, Beatrice.”
Confused, Beatrice asked, “What? Are we going back to the mansion?”
“No! Uh, I mean-- no, we’re going to my house. As long as you’re safe, I’m all for it.” Thomas, growing anxious, clarified. She looked at him, puzzled.
“Aren’t I safe right now? Here with you?” Thomas stuttered before gently holding her hand, closing his to feel its warmth.“Just... trust me.” He led her quickly back towards his house, his grip firm and reassuring. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, holding Beatrice’s hand tightly, determined to keep her safe despite the confusion and fear that clouded his mind.
Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, his grip on Beatrice’s hand firm as they walked briskly....
September 25th, 1976, Saturday.
Ring, ring! Thomas opened his eyes, disoriented, finding himself back in his bed. The persistent sound of the doorbell echoed through the quiet house. He wondered why his mother hadn’t answered the door. Scratching his eyes, he climbed out of bed and descended the stairs.
“Coming!” Thomas shouted, stretching his arms upward to shake off the remnants of sleep. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw his mother in the bathroom, her face pale and anxious. “You go answer the door first, Thomas!” she called out. Thomas stepped towards the door, apprehension growing with each step. He opened it to find Officer Chris standing there, his posture rigid, his expression serious. Thomas immediately knew that something was wrong.
“What is it about?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. Officer Chris looked directly at Thomas, his eyes intense. Paul Steele might not be the only kidnapper Beatrice has..." Thomas's heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shaking. “There has been a sighting of the butler!”
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