What Lies Beneath—Chapter Seven

Yorktown High School

Friday, September 6, 2002

8:00 AM

‘This is not my father,’ Christy thought. ‘He can’t be.’

Out of the corner of her eye she watched him, humming along with some country song on the radio as he pulled into the school parking lot. There was a smile on his face—he looked normal—like the dad she had always known, but how could he be? Memories from last night flooded Christy’s mind:

“You really need to invite Jenna over, Christy—I’ll even make my special spaghetti and meatballs. I’m so sorry if I frightened her today.”

“Dad that’s nice, but I really don’t think she’ll come.”

“Not even if you apologize for me, gumdrop? You can tell her that it really was an honest mistake.”

“You grabbed her arm really hard.”

“I was just in a hurry.”

“You saw how angry her Dad was. He’s not going to let Jenna get near you—you know that.”

After that his voice had turned from soft and wheedling to hard and threatening. Christy could still remember how his hand had gripped her shoulder, squeezing so hard until she’d finally cried out in pain.

“You’re going to do this.” His dark eyes looked down into her own. “You’re going to bring her here. Because believe me—this can get much worse.”After that he’d dragged her upstairs to show her the attic—the place where he was planning to hold Jenna. To hold Christy’s friend prisoner. Christy had looked at the manacles and the painted-over windows, fighting to hold back her nausea.

This couldn’t be happening. Part of Christy felt like screaming, or crying until there were no more tears left.

But the other part of her just felt numb.

This was not her father. It just wasn’t possible. The same man who used to play board games with her? The man who had sat with her when she was four and had been hospitalized with pneumonia?

“Well here we are.” Dad came to a stop in front of the school. “Nice and early, huh, gumdrop?”

“Yeah,” Christy said.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

Christy nodded.

“And you also know what will happen if you fail.”

“I know.” Christy started to get out of the car.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Dad asked. “Something like a hug, maybe? Come here.”

Christy stiffened as his arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close. Her shoulder gave a twinge but she bit her lip, determined that he would not hear her cry out again.

“Have a good day, gumdrop.” Dad told her. “I love you.”

Once he’d driven away, Christy patted her backpack—feeling the CD jewel cases that she’d taken from his briefcase and hidden in there last night—reassuring herself that they were still there. Hopefully she’d be able to look at them later on—see what her father was up to. Could she stop him? Christy wasn’t sure, but she was definitely going to try.

8:15 AM

“You thinking of going out for Dance Team this year?” Lisa asked. “Auditions are next week.”

“I don’t know,” Jenna said. “Maybe. I mean, I thought about it but things are a little crazy right now.”

“Funny.” Lisa closed her locker. “That’s the same thing that Christy said when I asked her.”

“Christy is here?”

“Yep,” Lisa said. “Came in looking like something the cat dragged in and went to the restroom—she hasn’t been out since. If she’s not careful, she’ll be late—now where are you going?”

“To the restroom,” Jenna said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Why do I even ask?”

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“Christy?” Jenna’s voice echoed as she stepped into the restroom. “Lisa told me you were in here. Is everything okay?”

The only sound was a slight sniffle.

“I know you’re there,” Jenna said. “Please talk to me. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Christy’s voice was a near whisper—so faint that Jenna had to strain to hear. “Just please—please go away. I want to be alone.”

Jenna shook her head. “No. Not until I see that you’re all right.”

The third stall door opened and Christy emerged, backpack in hand. Lisa hadn’t been kidding, Jenna realized. Her friend’s clothes looked as though she’d slept in them and her hair resembled a straw haystack. Christy’s face was swollen, her eyes red-rimmed.

“Okay, Jenna—are you happy now?”

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked. “Did your dad—”

Christy’s eyes flashed. “Leave my dad out of this! Just because you have some kind of a perfect family—”

“Come on, you know I don’t have a perfect family—”

“Whatever,” Christy said. “I’m out of here—talk to yourself if you want.”

“Wait.” Jenna grabbed at Christy’s shoulder but got her sweatshirt instead. There was a ripping sound as the material tore slightly.

“Oh.” That was all Jenna could say as she saw the darkening finger-shaped bruises that ran along Christy’s collarbone. Letting go of the sweatshirt, she stepped back. “Oh my gosh—Christy, I—what happened?”

“Nothing,” Christy snapped, pulling the sweatshirt back up. “I fell in the shower, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t look like falling in the shower. That looks like—”

“It’s none of your business what it looks like. Can I go now? Or do you want to rip my clothes some more?”

“You’re my friend—if you’re hurting I want to help.”

For a few moments Christy stared at Jenna, her expression unreadable.

“You don’t want to help me,” she said. “And you can’t, all right? So do me a favor, Jenna Stetson, and stay away. Far away.”

The restroom door slammed shut. Trembling, Jenna sank against the nearby wall, her eyes closed. She could feel the tears seeping through her lashes even as she tried to hold them back.

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Augie’s Mud Wrestling Bar and Grill

12:30 PM

“As you can see I’ve really invested in this place.” Augie led Lee and Amanda to a table in the back. “The artwork was Elsie’s idea—she thinks it gives the place a touch of class.”

“It’s very nice,” Amanda said.

Augie smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Stetson. You want anything to eat? On the house.”

Amanda smiled. “No, thank you.”

“Augie, quit the stalling, huh?” Lee said. “You said you had some information to share?”

“Lee, do you have any idea how expensive it is to run this bar? “ Augie asked. “I mean, the overhead alone is killing me, and now the waitresses are demanding more pay and better uniforms—”

“Okay, okay.” Lee pulled a fifty out of his wallet. “Will this help your overhead a little bit? “

“It’s a start.” Augie grabbed at the money but Lee held it away.

“After you give us your information,” Lee told him.

Augie sighed. “Fine. Word has it that a lot of people are looking to buy the intelligence that was supposed to go to the Chechen Rebels—apparently there’s going to be an auction on Sunday—the info’s gonna be sold off to the highest bidder.”

“Any idea of who the bidders are?” Amanda asked.

“Lot of big names—Lee Cheol , Achmed Kabar, even Victor Ustinoff.” Augie told her.

Lee’s head jerked up. “Ustinoff?” he said. “I didn’t even know he was out of prison.” Amanda gave him a questioning glance. “He’s Russian mafia,” Lee explained. Amanda nodded

“From what I’ve heard his last appeal was successful,” Augie said. “They released him last month.”

“And just where is this auction going to be held?” Lee asked.

“That I don’t know,” Augie said. “But it should be easy enough to find out. I’ll—uh— take that fifty now, Lee?”

Lee handed the man the money. “You just better hope that you’re telling me the whole story,” he said. “Because if you’re holding back anything , rest assured I’ll find out.”

Augie tucked the money in his pocket. “Oh believe me, Lee—I have no doubts about that.”

Lee’s cell phone rang. He flipped it open. “Stetson here,” he said.

“We just got word from our people about Christy Blakeney,” Francine said.

“Oh yeah?” Lee said. “What kind of word?”

“She’s disappeared.”

“What do you mean Christy’s disappeared?” Lee asked.

“She came to school at 8 AM and left the school grounds at approximately 11 AM,” Francine said. “Our men followed her but they lost her.”

“How the hell do trained agents manage to lose one thirteen-year-old girl?”

“She slipped out of a back entrance,” Francine said. “By the time our men spotted Christy, she’d climbed over a fence and vanished. We’re still looking, but nothing’s turned up so far.”

“Just great, Francine.” Why would Christy have taken off? A dozen possibilities raced through Lee’s head, none of them good. “Any more news?”

“You and Amanda were right about Maskhadov’s widow—the background check turned up a connection with Blakeney—since his release he’s been paying her rent and other expenses through a second bank account which he arranged under an assumed name.”

“His mistress?” Lee asked.

“Sounds like it to me, Scarecrow,” Francine said. “I’d be willing to bet that Gambit’s made her a partner.”

“Except we all know from past experience that Gambit’s not willing to share,” Lee said. “Is that all we have?”

“Not quite. Cell phone records also show a few calls made to a local TracFone number. No luck yet on confirming the identity of the owner, but want to make a guess?”

“Makes sense,” Lee said. “An easy method to evade the wiretaps.”

“True,” Francine replied. “Lee, I know you hate to get Jenna involved, but she’d be the most likely person to know about Christy’s whereabouts and why she took off. You have to question her.”

Lee sighed. “Well the truth is that she’s already involved whether I like it or not. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her this afternoon.”

“Any luck with your contact?”

“Some,” Lee said. “The information is going to be auctioned off on Sunday—no idea of where or when.”

“In the meantime we’ll continue with the surveillance and the search for Christy,” Francine said. “Don’t worry, Scarecrow—something will turn up.”

“I hope so.” Lee said. “But something tells me we’re running out of time.”

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Yorktown High School

3:30 PM

“So, is it the dance team or no?” Lisa asked. “Because if it’s yes, we need to start working on our routines like yesterday.”

“Yeah I know,” Jenna said.

“Yeah you know because we need to start working on our routines or yeah you just don’t care?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jenna scanned the crowds out front, looking for Christy, but she was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t been in AP English this afternoon, either. As a matter of fact, Christy hadn’t been anywhere at all. Jenna’s stomach twisted as she thought back to the bruises she’d seen on her friend’s shoulder.

‘Report any incidence of abuse or neglect to the school social worker—he or she is authorized to investigate.’ At least that’s what it said in the school handbook. But in reality the school social worker had been no help at all:

“I’m sorry, Jenna, but without Christy here to collaborate your story, there’s nothing I can do.”

“But she’s in trouble, Miss Wilkins. I saw the bruises on her shoulder.”

A sigh. “I really do believe that you think you saw them.”

“Miss Wilkins—”

“Jenna, your file shows that you have certain—issues—of your own--with PTSD?” The woman had smiled patronizingly. “The mind can play tricks on you—before I can follow up with this I really do need to talk to Christy first. Just to make sure.”

At that point Jenna had thought of several rude things to say, but it was probably better to say nothing—no point in opening her mouth and making things worse.

But where was Christy?

“—so then I thought we could end our routine with a gerbil sacrifice,” Lisa was saying.

Jenna stared at her friend in shock. “Excuse me?”

Lisa grinned. “Kidding. Thought that’d get your attention. Where is Christy, by the way? I haven’t seen her all day except for this morning.”

“That’s what I was wondering too.”

“Is something going on with her, do you think?” Lisa asked. “Maybe she went home sick—she certainly looked bad enough.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Possibility?” Lisa repeated. “I think you know something—something that you’re maybe not telling me? What’s up?”

“There’s—” Jenna started to say as Brad walked over.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay,” Jenna looked into his eyes, trying to think of something interesting to say and failing. “Um—how are you?”

“Me?” Brad said. “I’m fine. I just wanted to apologize again for scaring you like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” Jenna said. “You didn’t know.”

“Brad!” Terri marched up. She was smiling, Jenna noticed, but the expression in her eyes was venomous. “You said you would walk me home and I find you talking to these losers—what’s up with that?”

“Sorry, Terri.” Brad gave Jenna an apologetic smile as Terri led him away by the arm.

“Let’s go back to what you weren’t telling me—” Lisa started to say when a voice interrupted her.

“Jenna!” Her father’s voice. Jenna turned to see him standing on the sidewalk, his arms crossed.

“There’s my dad— I really gotta go, Lisa,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

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“I don’t understand why that Brad guy keeps talking to you,” Dad said.

“I don’t think it was anything,” Jenna told him. “I think he just feels bad because he scared me, that’s all.”

“But he’s a Junior—he has no business being interested in Freshman girls.”

Jenna’s cheeks grew warm. “I don’t think he is interested,” she said. “At least not in that way.”

Dad shook his head. “Jenna, boys like that, they have—”

“—I know, urges. You said that before.”

“Well they do—they have them I mean.”

“What kind of urges did you have when you were sixteen?”

“Ahh—” Now Dad’s face was the one that was red. “I just want you to be careful,” he said. “Because everyone doesn’t always have good intentions—you can’t trust everything you hear.”

“I know that, believe me.” Jenna spoke quietly.

“Yeah, I know you do.” Dad paused. “There was something else I needed to talk to you about, Jenna—it has to do with Christy.”

“What about Christy?”

“Well the Agency has her family under surveillance.”

“Christy’s under surveillance? Just like me?”

“Pretty much,” Dad said. “Except that this morning she disappeared out of a back entrance, and by the time our people realized what was happening she was gone.”

“So that’s what happened,” Jenna said. It all made sense now.

“That’s what happened,” Dad said. “What I need to ask you is if you know anything about why she took off or where she might’ve gone.”

In halting tones Jenna described what she had seen—the bruises on Christy's collarbone and how she'd had been crying. As she spoke she watched the way her dad’s hands gripped the steering wheel—so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he told her.

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I mean, maybe not okay, but I know that things like that do happen, I mean look at Marcie Johnston—what her own dad did to her. But I still don’t understand it, I guess. I still don’t know how anyone could do that to their own child.”

Dad reached over and squeezed her hand. “To be honest, munchkin, neither do I.”

“I even tried telling the social worker about the bruises but she didn’t believe me,” Jenna said. “She said she couldn’t believe me because I had issues.”

“Issues?”

“With PTSD—it’s on my permanent record. She said that I might be imagining things.”

“You can’t listen to people like that—that social worker was way out of line.”

“I know that. What I’m worried about is Christy—what if something happens to her?”

“Well that’s why we need to know where she might have gone. Think hard, Jenna. Do you have any ideas?”

Jenna sighed. “Not really,” she said. “I guess can give you the names of some of her other friends, but I don’t know if she’d be staying at any of them.”

“Every little bit helps,” Dad said. “I promise you—we’ll find her.”

TBC