Page 82 of Since She's Been Gone

“Do you have a spare?” the impostor asks.

“Had to use it last week,” the driver says.

“Jesus, PJ. You gotta replace a spare after you use it.”

“Sorry,” PJ says. “We can probably make it to a gas station. I can deal with it there.” He pulls out his phone, looking at Google Maps. I guess there is cell phone reception here. “The nearest station is a quarter of a mile away.”

“I’ll text Ivy and have her meet us in case we need to use her car,” the impostor says. He sticks my phone inside his jacket pocket and pulls out his own.

PJ turns the engine back on and starts to drive again.

My heart thumps so loudly in my chest that I can hear it. The box of nails in the road nearly killed us, but it also may have saved me. Now we have to go to a gas station with employees and customers where I can try to make a run for it.

I look over at the man sitting next to me and at the white glare from his phone. He doesn’t realize I can see his texts.

Car trouble. Meet us at the next station, he texts.

Three blue dots appear, and then a response from Ivy, whoever she is:

On my way. FYI I don’t think she’s seen Isaac Siegel’s interview.

Siegel … Why does that name sound familiar?

It’s hard to focus through the gallons of cortisol shooting through my veins. But I know I’ve heard that name before, and I think it might’ve been earlier today.

I go through everyone I’ve met since I arrived in New York City—Ramona at Bell Hospital, Neil at the NYU registrar’s office, Laura Poitier at the Tisch theater, Alexander Valentine the art gallery owner, Claire at her penthouse.

That’s when I land on it—Claire brought up Dr. Siegel. She said that Esther had tried to get a hold of the interview Mom had done with him at Bell hospital in the seventies so Claire could hear her hero testify.

Who’s Ivy, and how does she know about this interview from fifty years ago, let alone what Mom said in it and whether I’ve seen it or not?

The gas station’s overhead fluorescent lights shine brightly into the car as we pull up next to a gasoline pump. Another car is already there—a black BMW. We park right behind it.

A woman jumps out of it and approaches us. This must be Ivy. She’s wearing tight black leather pants and has straight blond hair that crawls down her back well past her waist, like a Hollywood supervillain.

As she gets closer, she starts to look familiar. Almost as if mousy Dawn didn’t have glasses or brown frizzy hair …

ItisDawn. She’s in on it.

And she has an in with Senator Lyon. Jay was right—the Cadells have infiltrated the highest levels of government.

My heart sinks. How could I have been so naïve, believing her story about her dead brother who overdosed? How grateful I was for her kindness, when it was all a ploy to trap me. She showed me Mom’s testimony to get me to trust her so that she could fish for information—to confirm that I hadn’t seen Mom’s interview with Dr. Siegel. And because Itold her Mom’s congressional testimony was the first I’d ever seen her speak about her addiction, she got the answer she needed—that I hadn’t seen the other interview.

PJ opens the glove compartment and grabs a strap of rope. He gets out of the driver’s side, walks around to my door, and opens it.

This is my one chance to escape, so I immediately start kicking, screaming, and trying to escape. “HELP! HELP! HELP!” I scream.

The impostor next to me yanks me back by my hair, making me scream even louder.

“I’d keep it down,” he says, pointing something into the small of my back. Something that feels like what I imagine a gun might feel like.

“Give him your hands,” he says, motioning to PJ, still holding the rope.

Fearing for my life, I put my hands in front of me. I stare at Mom’s bracelet on my wrist, my name and birthdate engravings, and the small scratch on the lima bean charm, until it all disappears underneath the rope. After PJ finishes tying my hands, he closes the car door and walks toward the gas station store.

The impostor turns to me and says, “I better not hear a peep out of you. And don’t bother trying to get anyone’s attention. The windows are tinted. Nobody can see inside.”

He gets out of the car and walks up to Ivy. She smiles at him and gives him bedroom eyes. He leans her against the BMW, and they passionately kiss as if kidnapping someone is a huge turn on for them.

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