Page 2 of The Kidnapped

“You’re not Daddy anymore?” she’d asked.

“Oh, I’m always your daddy,” he’d said, tickling her tummy. “But I’m changing the name everyone else calls me. So, you and me, we’ll have new names. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“What about Mommy?” she’d asked.

“Mommy…” she said to herself and closed her eyes as she pictured the woman again.

Her father had always told her that her mother had died. When they left that day, he’d told her that her mom wasn’t coming with them, but later, he’d explained why after she’d begged and asked for her mother. He’d told her she was gone.

“Oh, my God,” she said as she looked down at the cover photo.

She cracked open the book and flipped to the table of contents that usually existed in true crime books like this. She put her finger on the page and ran it down until she came across a name: Hollis Richardson. Her eyes blurred until she rubbed at them and saw the same name and a page number. She went to turn to it but noticed the section in the middle of the book where there were photos. This was also common in true crime books that dealt with multiple cases or topics: the publishers would just print black-and-white photos in one section of the book and refer to that section throughout to save on printing costs. Heidi stopped there first and flipped through the ten or so pages until she gasped and had to pause. There were two photos on one page. One was of the little girl from the cover with a stuffed monkey. The other was of Hollis, her mother, and Hollis’s father. They were posed as a happy family. Heidi still had that stuffed monkey.

“I got you those chips you like from the deli. Thought you could use something positive after cataloging all those– Heidi?” Sandy said after dropping something onto Heidi’s desk. “Heidi, are you okay?”

“I need to go home.” It was all she could say.

“Are you feeling all right?” Sandy asked.

“No, I might throw up,” Heidi replied honestly.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Heidi looked up to say no but nodded instead, grateful.

“I’ll have one of the volunteers drive you. Is that okay?”

Heidi nodded again, unable to speak.

Minutes later, she was in the car, with the book in her purse. Yes, she’d taken it from the library, but she didn’t know what else to do with it. The volunteer dropped her off at the door of her apartment building, and Heidi ambled up the stairs, unable to focus on just one thing. Eventually, she was able to get her key in the lock of her front door before she fell onto her sofa and stared at the framed photo on one of her shelves. It was her at ten years old, holding up a fish she’d just caught, with her proud father standing next to her, smiling.

“Dad, what did you do?” she asked herself.

Then, she opened the book and began reading the chapter on Hollis Richardson. Hollis had been born in a small town in the US. Her mother’s name was Olivia. Her father’s name had been Joe. His new name was Jake, but she remembered it now – she remembered them calling one another Joe and Olivia. She remembered them fighting and yelling those names at each other. One day, Hollis Richardson had been in kindergarten, and the next, she’d been gone. Her father had disappeared at the same time. He’d picked her up from school that day. She remembered that, too. It was the day her dad had gotten a new truck. Well, it was old, but it was new to them. There were things under a tarp in the back, and he’d told Heidi they were going on an adventure. No, he’d told Hollis that. It was a few days later that he’d given them new names and trained Hollis to say, ‘Heidi,’ when people asked her for her name. She’d been forced to repeat it over and over again, along with his name.

“I’m Hollis Richardson,” she whispered to herself.

She knew she should rush over to her father’s house and ask him what the fuck he’d done, but she was frozen in place. She could only keep reading. Her mother, Olivia, had searched for her, along with the police and the FBI. There had been a few leads over the years, but nothing had panned out. Someone had reported seeing them in Michigan; then, in Port Moody and Burnaby; and later, around Toronto. She remembered it now: Michigan. She’d lived by a lake in Michigan briefly. They weren’t there long. Then, her father had moved them again, and this time, to Canada.

This book had been published seven years ago. Was her mother, if Heidi really was Hollis Richardson, still looking for her? That was all Heidi could think about, so she put the book down and picked up her laptop. She typed in the search bar the name Hollis Richardson, and the first result was an article from a newspaper, which linked to a news story on the girl’s disappearance. But the third result caught her attention first, so she clicked on it.

Olivia Richardson had a website for her daughter. She was still looking. It had been updated just five days ago. There were sections for a blog, for past leads, and for people to contact her or the FBI with information and photos. Heidi clicked on the photos first and saw an artist’s rendering of what she might look like today. Her mind swirled as she saw herself staring back at her. She didn’t know what to do. Memories were flooding her now. She was certain she was Hollis Richardson, but she also didn’t know if reaching out to a woman who had been searching for her daughter for thirty years was the right thing to do. What if Heidi was wrong? What if she was seeing something that wasn’t there? What if she got this woman’s hopes up?

“Hello?” she said into the phone hours later.

“This is the FBI tip line. Do you have a tip about–”

“I think I’m Hollis Richardson,” she said to the man who’d answered the phone.

CHAPTER 1

“Open your mouth for me,” the agent, who was sitting across from the table from her, requested.

Heidi did, and the swab swirled around the inside of her cheek. She swallowed when it was pulled out and stuck into a tube.

“All done,” he added.

“Thanks,” she replied. “So, what happens now?”

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