My heroic adventure is cut short with a very welcome surprise — my parents walk into my room. The first person I see is my mother, who has already begun to cry. My father is right behind her, a big grin on his face.
“Oh Andrew, it’s so great to see you. This damn hospital has gotten on my last nerve.” She gives me a big hug and kiss, and then continues. “They wouldn’t let us come in, not even for a moment. They said you were in a fragile state and couldn’t handle any unnecessary excitement. Evidently, you’re OK now. Do you feel OK?”
“Yeah, mom. I’m all right,” I reassure her. The truth is, I’m far from all right. “What happened mom? They won’t tell me anything.”
Just like that, the excitement of seeing me fades and things take a more serious tone.
“They haven’t told you anything? Well, that doesn’t surprise me. The authorities have been coming in and out like crazy. They ask us all these questions but I never have any answers. I tell them my boy and Abby are good kids and they would never do anyone any harm. They said the man who did this was some guy around your age. He went to the same high school as Abby. Zach Jones, have you ever heard of him?”
Zach Jones? I feel like I’ve heard the name before. Not for a long, long time, though. “Zach Jones. Zach Jones.” I keep saying it out loud, hoping something clicks. Did Abby ever mention a Zach Jones before? My mind stirs around on it for a few minutes, and then it hits me. “Abby did mention a Zach Jones. It was a long time ago, before we were even married. She said they dated for a few weeks during her senior year of high school, but she broke up with him. Abby said he didn’t take it well and kind of stalked her until college. Then he tried calling her a few times freshmen year. One time, after we had started dating, he called one night while I was there. She usually just let it ring, but this time she picked up the phone and yelled at him, telling him to never call her again. Ever since then she never mentioned him, and for all I know he never called again. That’s so crazy. Why would he attack her after all these years? Just out of the blue?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.”
“How is Abby? Have you heard anything?”
“Do you not remember anything, Andrew?”
“No mom, the last thing I remember is the Saturday before, when Abby and I went out to dinner. Everything from then on is a complete blur. I don’t remember any of it.”
“Oh, Andrew. Really? I can’t believe that! She’s not good, sweetie. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her but, I don’t know, we haven’t seen her,” she stops herself and starts crying. Once she gains some composure she continues, “Apparently, this Zach person came into her work with a gun and ordered her to leave and get in his car. He drove off with her and nobody could find them. They got in touch with you right away and you drove down to see if you could help find her. Apparently you did, Andrew! It wasn’t until much later in the day but you were the one to find her.”
My mother doesn’t have to tell me the rest of the story, because the memories all start coming back. A moment ago I couldn’t remember anything and now it all comes in crystal clear. I remember getting the phone call right as I got to work. Normally, I would never answer the phone from an anonymous number but something in me felt compelled to answer it this time. It was the police telling me what had happened. I quickly told one of my bosses and ran out of the office.
I’d never driven so fast in my life. For the first time in history, I drove forty-five minutes on an Ohio highway without seeing a police officer. It’s a good thing too, because I’m not sure I would have stopped if I did. I went straight to Abby’s work where I could see the door was broken into. The area was mobbed with police cars. I didn’t count, but there had to have been fifteen to twenty, all with their lights on.
I’ve had enough run-ins with the police to know that it’s nothing like the movies. Police officers generally don’t give a shit, or they have other priorities more important than your situation.
The officer I spoke with assured me everything was going to be fine — that they would find Abby as soon as possible. I asked him if they knew who the person was and he said they didn’t. They only knew that he has black hair and he took her in an unidentified car. No license plate or brand name of the car was given. The only description was that it was black.
I remember leaving there as soon as I could. I was actually a bit surprised they let me go. Deputies in the movies always have a sneaking suspicion of the boyfriend/husband. He must have been able to tell I’m not a good actor and I clearly wasn’t faking it.
I drove everywhere I could, covering every back road and shady street corner looking for anything suspicious. What I was doing seemed pretty pointless because I was going on almost no information. I didn’t see one black car, only a couple black SUV’s and black mini-vans. I almost stopped them but my better judgment told me that it wasn’t a car so there’s no way it could be Abby’s kidnapper.
That’s when I got the call. It was in the afternoon around two o’clock. It wasn’t from the deputy, but from Abby’s phone. I pulled the car to the side of the road and picked up. It was her, my sweet and dearest Abby. She only had time to say two words.
“Re…ser…voir. A…lone.”
It was a struggle for her to say anything. I shouted back her name but she didn’t answer. I looked down at my phone, “Call Ended.”
The reservoir is near where Abby grew up. It’s a beautiful area about thirty minutes south from our current home. During the summer we go there sometimes to picnic and spend the day. There’s one spot in particular she takes me to that’s quite beautiful. It’s hard to get to because it’s deep in the wilderness and there isn’t a road taking you all the way there. Abby has rocks and other notable objects to keep from getting lost.
The memories keep coming like I’m re-living what happened…
I try calling her back but she doesn’t answer. Hearing her voice has given me a shot of adrenaline; she’s alive. It makes sense for me to go to the reservoir but what does alone mean? Does that mean she’s alone, or does it mean I need to come alone? I try calling her again. “Come on Abby, pick up!” She doesn’t answer, though. I have to assume this means to come alone, so I start driving as fast as I can. I drive around ninety miles per hour on the highway and, fortunately again, I don’t pass any police cars. It’s the most intense hour of driving I’ve ever done.
When I make it to the reservoir, I drive by a small bait and tackle shop. Time is critical but I need some kind of protection. When I enter the store, I see it’s mostly various fishing equipment. Tiny fishhooks are not my idea of protection. Right when I give up and am about to leave the store, I see an ax beside the door. At first I think it isn’t for sale, but then I pick it up and see a price tag of $19.99, so I run to the front desk to buy it. I pay with cash because I don’t want the police knowing I just bought an ax, especially since I didn’t tell them about my phone call from Abby.