Page 125 of Lotus

My eyes find her running down the hill, slinging her rainbow backpack over one shoulder as she waves behind her, nearly tripping. Her pigtails bounce with every clumsy step.

I hear him then, calling back, “Bye, Syd. See you tomorrow.”

Guilt punctures my gut and I feel sick inside.

Fucking hell, this is going to suck.

Wellington bellows over to Oliver once the girl has disappeared down the street, running towards her house. “Oliver, time to go. I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he says.

I watch him slide down the hill on his butt, causing Wellington to grow impatient. “Now, Oliver.”

Oliver stands and skips the rest of the way. “Can we get ice cream now?”

“No. Let’s go, troublemaker.”

Troublemaker. That’s my cue.

Insides curdling with unease, anxiety higher than ever, I walk backwards until I’m shrouded in brush, my face peering around a thick tree trunk. Wellington and the boy amble over to me, and just when they’re a few feet away, Wellington curses under his breath.

“Damn, I forgot my wallet at the playground. You stay right here, Oliver,” he orders. Dark eyes meet with mine through the black of night with a quick glance—an execution. “I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, okay.” Oliver kicks at a rock, sighing as he glances around the darkened side street. Moments tick by, matching my racing fucking heart, when Oliver begins to hum the tune toPuff the Magic Dragon. That same heart, cold and dead, clenches with memories of Tommy and me reading his board book by the fireplace together while the song drifted from our cassette player.

That song always teared me the fuck up, and I would dread the day Tommy grew up, forgoing his Lego blocks for Nintendo games and action figures for skateboarding with his buddies.

Now… I’d give anything to watch him grow.

I’m sweating profusely, the humid July air stale and thick as it strangles my lungs like a noose. I swipe at my forehead with the back of my dirt-stained hand, swallowing down my indecision and breaking into action.

Oliver’s chin jerks up when a branch cracks, his aimless hum carried away with another gust of hot air. “Hello?”

I act fast, catching the startled look in his burgundy eyes before I pounce on him, one arm slinking around his middle and the other stifling his yell with my palm. “Shh, you’re okay. Stay quiet and stop squirming.” Dragging him to my car, his feet skimming the rocks and dirt, I heave us both into the backseat and shut the door, securing the childproof locks and reaching to the floor for my bag of rope. “I’ll make it quick, kid. You’ll be okay.”

“Who are you? Where’s my stepdad?”

“He wanted me to take you somewhere very special. But you need to be a good boy, yeah?”

Another round of fireworks burst to life outside the dusty windows, illuminating the look of terror in the little boy’s eyes. “I-I’m scared, mister. I don’t think I want to go.”

“You gotta go. It’s a real nice surprise.” Pocketknife between my teeth, I work to secure the kid’s hands behind his back, rope tight and unforgiving against his delicate skin. Droplets of sweat drip down, landing on his fingers. “You can’t make any noise, or I’ll have to gag you,” I tell him firmly. “You just sit back and watch the fireworks until we get there, okay?”

He agrees with a timid nod as I crawl into the driver’s seat and shuffle around my pockets for my keys, preparing for the thirty-mile commute back to my farmhouse.

It’s a long, painful drive.

The kid is quiet, just like he was told, and Ihatethat he is.

Why couldn’t he disobey? Why couldn’t he be a little shit and try to claw my goddamn eyes out? This would be a hell of a lot easier.

“It’s all right, kid. It’s gonna be all right,” I mutter, more to myself as my fingers curl around the steering wheel in a deathlike grip. I twist the dial on the radio to increase the volume, desperate for a distraction, and I’m grateful when a breezy sixties tune bursts to life.

Gaze lifting to the rearview mirror, I watch as Oliver stares out the window with big, confused eyes, rimmed with tears. He’s silent but trembling, and I’m starting to doubt everything.

But how can I turn back now? I’m alreadyin this. I’ve been paid half the money, the kid has seen my face, and Wellington’s threat is not far from my mind…

“Earl told me you were clean and quiet, so I have no doubt you’ll come through for me. But just so we’re clear—if my stepson escapes, I assure you the consequences will be unfortunate for you. I am not clean, and I am not quiet,” Wellington said before leaving my house two days ago. He paused in the doorway with narrowed eyes and an ugly sneer. “And the boy will die regardless, so don’t go pulling out any hero cards, understood?”

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