Page 4 of The Kidnapped

“Heidi, wait. I can–”

But the door was closed behind her before she could hear whatever her father had been about to say. She leaned back against the wall and let the tears fall. She covered her face and sobbed. Her entire life had been a lie. The father she’d known had taken her from her home. Her mother was still out there, looking for her.

“I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you,” the FBI agent said to her as he touched her shoulder gently. “I can take you home now, if you’d like. I will probably have some more questions for you later, but I think–”

“Does she know about me?” she interrupted him.

“Your mother?”

“Does she know?”

“There’s something you should know about your mom, Heidi,” he said, giving her a look that told her that she should worry, and the strangest thing hit her mind in that moment.

Her name; she’d always hated it. She’d never felt like a Heidi. She’d never felt like it went with her personality or even her features. Hollis… She thought a lot about that name now. Hollis. She kept saying it over and over to herself, trying it on for size and feeling like it fit her better than Heidi ever had. Heidi Ramsey… No, she was Hollis Richardson.

???

It was a week later. They’d rushed the DNA. Hollis now knew why. Her mother, the woman she hadn’t seen since she was five years old and who had been looking for her this entire time, had stage-four breast cancer and only months left to live. The FBI had rushed those results just to confirm for Olivia what everyone else already knew, thanks to the confession Hollis’s father had made and her own memories, which had been brought back to life by all the recent discoveries she’d stumbled upon. Heidi was no more. After hearing that name come out of her father’s mouth as he tried to excuse away what he’d done, she decided to never use it again. She was Hollis now. It was the name she’d been given at birth; the name her mother had wanted her to have.

Now that she’d finally found her, though, they’d have hardly any time together.

“Oh, baby,” her mother said, cupping her hand over her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. “Hollis!”

“Hi, Mom,” Hollis said, tearing up as well.

Her mother was in her sixties now, no longer the young woman from Hollis’s memories handing her the balloon. Her blonde hair was gone, replaced with a wrap that covered the baldness from her treatments. Her bright blue eyes were a little duller now, and she was also much thinner than in Hollis’s memories and in the pictures she’d seen since finding out who she really was, but this was her mother. Her voice was a little scratchy, but Hollis knew it. It had been the voice she’d heard in her head and could never explain. That was because, after initially telling Hollis that her mother had died and giving her no explanation, her father had tweaked the story. He’d trained her, programmed her into believing that her mother had died when Hollis had been a baby, making his lies that much worse. Hollis hadn’t believed him at first, of course, but over the years, he’d continued to make mention of how he’d raised her alone. He had taken her real memories of the three of them and replaced them with memories of just the two of them. Instead of the three of them going for ice cream in the summer, it was just her and her father. He’d been so good at this that Hollis now didn’t know which memories were real and which were the lies.

“Come here,” the older woman said, holding out her arms.

Hollis fell into them and instantly breathed her mom in before they both started sobbing as they stood that way, in her mother’s doorway.

Several minutes later, though, Hollis could feel Olivia wobble, likely from weakness.

“We should get inside,” she suggested, wiping her nose and eyes and trying to get out a smile because this was a good day.

“Yes. I’ve made tea, and I have…” Olivia took a step back and just stared at her. “So many things I thought over the years, and now, you’re here.” She smiled wide.

“I didn’t know,” Hollis said.

“I know, sweetie. I know. They told me how you found out. I’m just glad I let that woman interview me for that book. Of all the things to bring you back to me, I thought it might be the website or the news stories, but no, it was some book that some reporter wanted to write.”

“I don’t really know what to do now,” Hollis admitted, laughing through her tears.

“Neither do I,” Olivia replied. “Let’s go into the kitchen.”

Hollis stepped farther inside the house, and it was only then that it clicked for her. She’d arrived in an Uber she’d taken from the airport and had been so nervous, she hadn’t paid much attention. Now, her luggage was sitting on the front steps of her childhood home.

“This is the same house,” she said softly.

“Yes. You remember it?” her mother asked, walking slowly through the living room, holding on to Hollis’s hand.

“The kitchen is through there.” She pointed.

“Yes,” her mother replied, smiling still.

“My bags are…” Hollis said, remembering.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d help you with–”

---