Page 1 of Allison

PROLOGUE

Two years ago…

The man watches from the shadows as a young girl crosses the street. She’s a pretty little thing, just beginning to blossom, not having reached full womanhood yet. Her jet-black hair is pulled into a long ponytail. It sways as she hurries to cross the intersection. Her school uniform doesn’t quite fit her growing figure any longer. The blouse is stretched tight across her breasts, and the skirt is a little too short. The jacket is taut on her upper arms and across her shoulders. Her worn backpack, having seen better days, hangs from her shoulder on a frayed strap. The other strap has long since broken.

He’s been watching her for many days, now, and has become well acquainted with her daily route to and from school. She will walk another two blocks before arriving at the apartment she shares with her mother, who will not be home for another four and half hours. None of the neighbors will be home at this time of day which gives him plenty of time.

The man pushes off the wall, strolling at a leisurely pace, following the girl. He doesn’t need to keep her in sight. She rarely changes her routine. This girl isn’t the usual type of girl he is hired to procure. He usually gets girls and even boys who are already living on the streets, drug addicted, or running from law enforcement.

No, this girl is very different. He has looked into her and her mother. The girl is a straight A student and follows the rules. Her mother is a hard-working single parent who can barely make ends meet. He should feel bad about what he’s about to do, but he stopped having feelings many years ago. You can’t have a conscience and do this kind of work.

As he reaches the block on which the girl’s apartment is located, he looks up to see her climbing the steps of her building. She slips inside like he’s watched her do so many times. Today, he doesn’t stroll on by. He turns, climbing the steps, too. He pauses at the door, looking around to ensure no one else is nearby. Determining the coast is clear, he continues inside, dipping his head to avoid the lone security camera located in the lobby.

He climbs the four flights of stairs slowly, not wanting to catch her before he is ready. He can’t take the chance she could get away or that one of the neighbors on a lower floor might be home and hear her screams. He crests the last step entering the hallway where the apartment doors are located. The girl is just unlocking 4B. He watches as she slips inside. A distinct click signifying she has engaged the lock on the door handle.

He waits, listening for any potential threats that could foil his plan. Taking a few steps down the hall, he pauses outside her door. He slips a pouch from his pocket. Opening it, he studies the contents before selecting his tools, then kneels down to pick the lock.

Fortunately for him, the girl never engages the deadbolt on the door. Within seconds the lock gives, and the door opens. He peers around the door, still on his knees. He knows the layout perfectly, having been in here several times. The door opens to the living room and dining area with the kitchen to the right. Across the room, a narrow hallway leads to the bedrooms and single bathroom.

Seeing the coast is clear, he slips his tools back into his pocket. He stands, entering the room and closing the door. The man slips across the room on silent feet. The girl’s room is the first door on the left. Being the good girl that she is, she has gone to her room upon arriving to do her homework. He moves soundlessly through the old space. The sickly yellow, 1970’s carpet is very faded and mostly threadbare. The wall paper is discolored and peeling. There is a creaky floor board just ahead which he deftly avoids, nearing the girl’s room.

She is humming to the music playing on an old radio sitting on a small table next to her bed. She should be sprawled out with her books. He peers around the door. Just as he suspected, she is laying on her stomach, back to the door. He pulls a small syringe from his pocket. In two large steps he is at her side, his left hand covering her mouth. He jams the syringe into the side of her neck, plunging the drug into her jugular. She struggles briefly, but the medication works quickly. Her body goes slack. The man grabs his cell phone, sending off a text to his driver, who is waiting down the street.

Lifting the girl from the bed, leaving her belongings behind, he carries her through the apartment and out into the hall. After a quick check, ensuring no one is around, he hurries down the back stairway to the rear of the building and into an alley. His driver arrives seconds later. The man drops the girl into the backseat, slamming the door. He quickly slides into the passenger seat and taps the dash, urging the driver to get going. He wants to get this over with.

Thirty minutes later, they pull up to a timeworn warehouse. Guards pull the large doors aside, allowing them to drive in. A black limo is waiting, with the motor running, exhaust billowing up from behind. Their car stops next to the limo. The man climbs out, opens the back door of his car, and pulls the girl from her resting place. He cradles her bride-style to his chest. She doesn’t even stir as he carries her to the back driver’s side door of the limo. The limo driver exits, hurrying to open the back door for him. The man with the girl eases inside, taking a seat next to a man in a designer suit.

“About time you got here,” the suit grumbles, irritably. “You weren’t followed, correct?” The contempt is easy to hear in his voice.

“No, I wasn’t,” the kidnapper snaps. “I’m a professional, the best. You wouldn’t have trusted me with the job otherwise.” The kidnapper knows he’s correct in his assessment. All the high rollers seek him out to acquire what their deviant sexual desires require. “You have my money?” he asks, sure to inflect boredom in his tone. One thing you must do is to remind these rich assholes not everyone worships them.

“It’s all there,” the suit assures him, gesturing to a suitcase on the seat across from them. “Now, hand her over.” The suit reaches for the sleeping girl. The man hands her over without a single care, picking up the suitcase and popping the locks.

Stacks and stacks of green meet his gaze. He inhales deeply, enjoying the smell of new money. A smile playing on his lips. Not bad for a couple of weeks of stalking followed by kidnapping. “How much longer will she be out?” the suit asks, stroking his hand over her torso.

The kidnapper shrugs his shoulders. “Another hour most likely, but results vary. Depends on her metabolism. You should be able to make it to your place before she wakes.” The suit narrows his eyes, indicating he didn’t expect the man to know where he lives. The suit should’ve known the man would know everything about him, just in case the suit tried to double cross him. “I’m very thorough when I do a job. I make sure I know everything about my clients.” Wisely, the suit doesn’t respond. Instead, he just nods.

The kidnapper slides out of the limo, suitcase of cash in hand, and returns to his vehicle. Much like the suit in his limo, the man settles into the back seat. The man’s driver pulls out of the warehouse leaving the poor girl to her fate.

Hours later, the girl’s mother comes home to an empty apartment. The police are notified, but they are unable to find any clues as to what happened to her daughter. The mother is left devastated and alone with no way to find out what has happened to her child.

1

ALLISON

Allison Mae Simpson grunts as she tries to force her suitcase to close around the mound of clothing, shoes, toiletries, and makeup she’s stuffed into the small space. She’s only going to be gone for a week, but a girl can never have too many clothes, right? Falling heavily on the lid with her chest, she attempts to force the zipper to do its magic to keep everything inside.

“Come on, you son0fabitch!” Allison growls, struggling with the zipper. Lord, if her mother could hear her foul mouth! Allison would never hear the end of it. She’s the black sheep of her very religious family. Her father has been a pastor longer than Allison has been alive. All of her siblings have continued the family tradition, holding fast to the faith.

Monica, her older sister, married a pastor, Carl Shepherd. Monica is a stay-at-home mother, like their mother had been, with three small children and another on the way. Debbie, their younger sister, married Douglas Thomas a few months ago, who is a youth minister and also the son of a pastor. Debbie and Doug are currently on a mission trip to Africa, spreading the word and making their parents proud. Billy, the only brother and youngest of the family, is in college getting his Master’s in Religious Studies, following in his father’s footsteps to pastor his own church someday.

Allison is the lone holdout of the family. She loves her family and has deep held beliefs in God, but she doesn’t intend to marry a pastor or give up her career to be a stay-at-home mom. She loves her job despite the long hours and crappy pay. Allison is, in her own way, doing God’s work, too. She has helped a lot of people over the years, by exposing evil and bringing criminals to justice. She just happens to curse a lot along the way.

Allison hasn’t been home in six years, not even for Debbie’s wedding. The last time she’d gone home has been when her cousin Emma, who is more like a sister, had been raped and beaten in a bar bathroom in Jacksonville, North Carolina. Emma had just moved there with her best friend to start a new job. Allison and Emma had been two peas in a pod growing up. She’d been closer to Emma than she had her own siblings.

Allison had been sure Emma would run back home to the mountains of Tennessee to stay, but much to everyone’s dismay, Emma had chosen to return to North Carolina after a short stay with her parents. Having Susie Beth, her life-long friend, with her had helped Emma get past the trauma.

The entire family had been shocked over the attack and had rallied around Emma to help her recover, but it had all been a facade. Allison would never tell Emma, but several of their family blamed Emma for what had happened to her. Allison can still hear their catty remarks.

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