Page 111 of The Lair

“I think… I think I was avoiding reaching Maine too fast, as weird as that sounds. Because when I got there, it meant I’d have to rebuild my life for real. I’d have to settle down and find a stable job, and I was scared of not finding peace there when it’d been my plan all along.”

“And did you? Find peace in Maine?”

Travis’s face flashes in my head, constricting my lungs. His warm touch, the safety he provided, how validated he made me feel by trusting me with The Lair’s accounts, how he opened his heart to me, how rightit felt to come home to him every night.

I didn’t only find peace in Maine—I found a life worth waking up for.

My throat closes, but I still manage to say, “I found a lot more than that.”

I found love. And then I lost it.

He leans on the armrest, his fingers holding his stubbled chin. “I’m fascinated, Allison. How can such a young girl make her way across the United States all by herself, while fearing getting recognized at every stop? That must have been stressful.”

His understanding makes me feel better. “It was, but at the time, I didn’t think about it. I just kept going, taking it day by day. I was too young to see the real dangers, and I think… I thinkI would’ve given up if I had thought about what I was doing for too long. Why I was forced to do it.”

“Given up? What do you mean?”

After I was recognized in Nashville, I briefly wondered why I was bothering to start a new life when my old one would follow me forever. My parents had ruined my past and my future. I was naive to think my story had a happy ending.

I will never forget that night. The moment I thought about how easy it would be to get my hands on some pills and…

Jada called me then to check on me, and the idea disappeared forever. A week later, I signed up for my first online accounting course, finding a purpose again.

My voice comes out raspy. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

George nods. “Did you have any kind of support during this time? Someone you could call?”

I tell him about Jada, how we got close while I was still in high school, what she and her husband have been doing for me all this time.

And I tell him about Claudia.

“Your kidnapping shocked the entire country,” he says, as if I could ever forget. “The news talked about a child trafficking ring.”

I swallow thickly. “The police thought that’s what it was.”

“And what didyouthink?”

The memory of that day is still fresh in my mind, heightened by the near break-in and the car window I now have a strong suspicion my brother was behind.

“I try not to think too much about it,” I admit. “It was the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me. How that woman knew everything about my family withoutknowingthem. She was convincing enough to fool a twelve-year-old.”

“How did Claudia have access to that information?”

I have an inkling he knows the answer, but he wants me to say it. He wants me to confirm it and end the speculation once and for all.

I promised.

“My mother shared everything online. Still does.” My pulse quickens. It’s my first time talking about her in front of someone that isn’t Jada. In front of a camera that is recording my words for millions of people to see—shewill see this. Yet not an ounce of regret fills me as I add, “She shared pictures of me with my school diplomas. In those photos, you could clearly see the name of the school and my grade. That may look harmless to people who don’t have bad intentions and may just follow her because they’re curious about her life, but evil people exist out there. People like Claudia. And you never know if they’re watching.”

“It’s always fascinated me,” George comments casually. “How we share all kinds of stuff on the internet as if it were a private diary. Live locations, pictures of the fronts of our houses, our cars. I feel like we’ve lost sight of the dangers of social media because we’re constantly exposed to it. We don’t think what we share could have life-endangering consequences, but it did in your case. Tell me, was your mother warned against sharing so much on social media after the kidnapping?”

“The police told her to share less stuff or do it more vaguely,” I recall. Jada told her the same thing. “But she said it was her job, so…”

“So, she didn’t care that her negligence got her daughter kidnapped and nearly sold into a trafficking ring, and she kept oversharing on social media,” he finishes the thought for me.

My hands start shaking again. “Something like that.”

“You’ve never agreed to being online.”

---