“She didn’t mean it, Tracy,” Isaac said. “She’s hysterical – she’s upset about losing Taylor.”
Tracy wiped the tears from her eyes. “She meant it, Isaac. Why should your mother be different from anyone else?”
Isaac laughed. “That was so unlike my mother, Tracy. You have no idea.”
“You’re very sweet, Isaac, but what your mother said was true. I’m no better than a common streetwalker and I definitely don’t deserve to be with someone as wonderful as you.”
He shook his head. “Stop that. I’ll decide whom I want to be with. And as far as the streetwalker comment is concerned, nothing could be further from the truth.”
She looked him in the eye. He was so beautiful, so caring. He was truly concerned about her, but she didn’t know why. “But you don’t know –“
“Don’t know what, Tracy? I know you were strung out on heroine and I know that you tried to kill your brother. I’m still here, Tracy; I’ve not gone anywhere. When are you going to realize that I’m here because I want to be? And when are you going to believe what a wonderful, giving person you are? I just don’t get it.”
She shook her head. “But people –“
“People are people. They’re always going to do and say things that hurt you. That’s what people do.” He stopped, wondering if what he was going to say next was going too far. “And to be honest, Tracy, I think you kind of ask for it.”
Tracy gave him a cold, icy stare. “What?”
“Look at you, Tracy,” Isaac replied. “You’re hiding under that get-up. You’re a beautiful girl, but you won’t let anybody know it.”
She hung her head. “I’m not beautiful.”
He took her chin in his hand and raised her head. “Listen to me. You’re talking to a seventeen-year-old guy. Trust me, I know a beautiful woman when I see one.”
She smiled. “You’re just too cute.”
“Isn’t he though?” A voice asked. It was Diana Hanson. “You ought to try spanking somebody with a face like that.”
Isaac looked Tracy in the eye. He knew what she was about to say. “Don’t go there, Trace,” he pleaded. “Hi, Mom.”
Diana smiled as she approached to two of them and sat down on the extra bed. “Ike, honey, would you leave the two of us alone for a moment?”
Tracy’s eyes pleaded for him to stay. He gave her a look that said it was going to be okay. He squeezed her hand. “Sure, Mom.” He stood up from the bed and walked away. He turned and smiled. “It’s gonna be okay, Trace.” He then left the room.
“Well,” Diana began uncomfortably, “you must think I’m the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Tracy looked up from the floor. “No, not at all, Mrs. Hanson.”
“I’m sorry about what I said to you. I really haven’t been myself since Taylor disappeared.”
“That’s okay, I’m used to that kind of reaction from people.” Her eyes went to the floor again.
“Tracy, honey, look at me.” Tracy did as she was told. “You’re a beautiful, young woman. Why would you want to hide behind all that make-up?”
Tracy stood and walked over to the hotel window. From fifteen floors up, the cars seemed so small. She looked off into the distance. Their room faced west. She wondered where her house was from here. She thought of happier times; times before the heroin. Noah had taught her how to ride a bike and helped coach her soccer team. He’d been to every school play and fought off a number of school bullies. All that was gone now. He couldn’t fight her battles anymore.
“Tracy?”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Hanson,” she replied. “I didn’t always dress like this. I guess when people treat you like a freak of nature you tend to start believing them. I’m acting a part, I guess you could say.”
“But that’s just it, Tracy. You’re not being yourself. This is not who you really are.”
“I’m not sure I know who I am anymore.”
Diana stood up from the bed and walked over to the window. “Noah told me about what you did, and about the drugs. You have to forgive yourself.”
Tears came to Tracy’s eyes. She saw Noah again, lying on the floor; his body surrounded by a pool of blood. She screamed his name. She’d been so scared that night, so scared that she’d ran.
She snapped back into the present. Her legs collapsed from underneath her and she fell to the floor. “I left him to die, Mrs. Hanson. I left him there to die.”
Diana sat down next to her, placing her arm around Tracy. “Noah has forgiven you and I’m sure your mother has forgiven you. Now, you have to forgive yourself. The pain won’t go away until you forgive yourself. We’ve all done stupid stuff, but there has to come a time when we let it go. Because all that pain will eat you alive.”
“I can’t.”
“You can, Tracy. You can at least try.” Diana gave her another gentle squeeze and helped her to stand. "Here,” she said, walker her to the phone, “why don’t you call your Mom and tell her you’re okay.”
Tracy hesitated for a moment and took a deep breath. “I guess I could do that.”
Diana smiled and started to walk away.
“Would you stay with me?” Tracy pleaded.
“Sure, honey, whatever you want.”
Where have I heard that name before?
Noah Barnes was looking over the list of names the FBI had given to Walker Hanson and trying to place where he’d heard one of them before.
Apex Construction. Why does that sound so darn familiar?
Noah put the list down on the table and let out a deep sigh. This was all just a little too crazy. Things seemed so normal when he’d woken up the morning before. He hadn’t known that the next twenty-four hours would turn his entire universe turned on it’s end. It always amazed him how things could change so quickly. One moment life was cruising along with no bumps in the road; the next, you’re driving off a cliff.
When it rains it pours.
He remembered his Mom telling him that when he was a kid. Although, he’d never realized the true meaning until now. Things had never been this insane all at once before. Taylor was missing; Marshall had fired him; Jesse was in heaven only knew what kind of trouble; Sarah was pregnant; and now Tracy had paraded back into his life.
My therapist is going to have a field day this week!
Tracy. Boy, did she bring back some painful memories. Seeing her again was like some sick nightmare that won’t let go even after you’ve woke up. As far as Noah was concerned, a nine-month treatment program wasn’t enough. Of course, after someone stuck you with a kitchen knife, your judgment tended to be a little cloudy.
Noah laughed and shook his head. As hard as it was to see her again, it was nice too. He’d forgotten how much he loved the little munchkin. Even though they were far apart in age, they’d always been close. He’d taught her how to ride a bike and he’d helped her through her first broken heart. Somewhere, somehow, they’d drifted apart. Through no fault of their own – just due to circumstances known as life. The closeness they’d shared melted like an ice cream cone on a warm, summer’s day. And when her entire life fell apart, he couldn’t do a darn thing. He felt responsible.
He knew the anger he felt toward Tracy was really just anger he felt towards himself. If only he’d done more for her. If only he’d caught it in time. Part of him wished he’d died on that kitchen floor. It was what he deserved after causing Tracy so much pain. And it would have saved him the trouble of trying to do it himself.
Stop blaming yourself! It’s not your fault.
At least that’s what the thousands of dollars he’d spent in therapy told him.
If I don’t stop thinking about this I’m going to go insane!
He looked around the room. The three younger Hanson children, Mackenzie, Jessica, and Avery, were playing quietly in a corner. Zac was lying on the bed with his hands behind his head. Infant Zoe was sleeping soundly in her crib. Isaac had set up camp next to the door that adjoined the two rooms and Walker was pacing back and forth with a worried look on his face.
Noah smiled. God provided some of the most unlikely people sometimes to bless your life. These people had become a second family to him. They held a special place in his heart. They accepted him as one of their own. And now they were in pain.
What can I do to help them, Lord?
Just then the door opened and Diana and Tracy entered. Isaac immediately turned his attention to Tracy. Diana walked over to her husband and hugged him tightly.
How can I help this family?
He stopped. A strong, powerful, almost audible voice spoke to him.
You can’t help them, but I can.
“Of course,” Noah said out loud to everyone’s surprise. He stood from his chair. “Walker?”
“What is it, Noah?”
“I think we should pray,” he said. “You know, as a group.”
Walker smiled. “That’s a good idea, Noah. Would you lead us?”
Noah felt his face turn red. “Uh, sure. Could we all join hands?”
Zac climbed off the bed and the nine of them clasped hands and formed an imperfect circle. Noah took a deep breath. “Lord,” he began, “we come before You to humbly ask for Your wisdom and strength. Taylor, our son; our brother; and our friend, is missing. He’s out there somewhere – we don’t know where he is. He’s probably scared like we are. Comfort Taylor, Lord, and comfort us. Help us to know what to do. And please,” his voice cracked, tears coming to his eyes. He felt Diana squeeze his hand tight. “Please bring Taylor back to us. In Christ’s name we pray. Amen.”
No one said a word – even the children were quiet, somehow realizing at their young, tender age the importance of prayer. They remained standing in the circle, hands clasped. A feeling of peace settle down upon them.
Twenty minutes west, in a dark, dirty basement, tired of trying to break down the door, Taylor Hanson sat at the top of the stairs. He was scared; he was hungry; and he missed his family. He was down and discouraged. He’d given up hope. He buried his head in his hands and let out a deep sigh.
Suddenly he felt a touch of fire in his soul, a warm, glowing feeling that took hold of his heart and wouldn’t let go. The heat radiated out for his fingers and his toes. For one brief moment he forgot about his fear. He knew he was going to be okay. A smile came to his face as a song flooded his memory. He opened his mouth to sing. Taylor Hanson sang like he had never sung before.
When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul
They remained standing in the circle, hands clasped together. There was a certain presence in the room that comforted all of them. Slowly and reverently they dropped hands, no one able to say a word. They all knew that they had accomplished something with the prayer; that everything was going to okay. All they could do now was wait.
The silence was broken by the cellphone. Walker had been wearing it on his belt in anticipation of another call. The FBI was monitoring the frequency for the same reason. Nervously, with his hands shaking, Walker pulled the phone from his belt and tapped the “send” button.
“This is Walker Hanson.” There was noise on the other end of the line. The person was calling from a payphone near a very busy road.
“There’s been a change of plans, Hanson,” the familiar voice said.
Walker took a deep breath, reaching out for Diana’s hand. “I’m listening.”
“How much do you love your son?”
“Excuse me?”
“I asked you how much you loved your son.”
“Please, just tell me what you want.”
“It’s important for me to know, Mr. Hanson,” the voice prodded. “How much do you love your son?”
Walker was growing impatient, but he tried to maintain his cool. “I love my son,” he began, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love my son like I love all my children, more than anything.”
Laughter came from the other end of the phone. “I thought as much.”
“Please,” Walker pleaded. “Just tell me what you want. I just want my son back.”
“What I want, Mr. Hanson, is to see you suffer like you’ve made me suffer.” His voice was rising in volume and in anger. “What I want is to take away from you like you’ve taken away from me.” He was shouting now. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Mr. Hanson, than to beat your precious son to death and leave his rotting, stinking corpse on your doorstep for the world to see. That, Mr. Hanson, is what I want!” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Now, ask me what I’ll settle for.”
Walker was stunned, not able to say a word.
“ASK ME!”
Hatred boiled inside Walker Hanson. He gritted his teeth and asked as calmly as possible, “What will you settle for?”
More laughter. “At six this evening, you’re to meet me at the destination we previously discussed. You’re to bring your son, Zachary, and a million dollars. The money is to be placed in a large, black duffel bag and non-traceable. Your son will then accompany me to an undisclosed location where I will determine if the money is present and accounted for. When I’m satisfied, you will receive a phone call telling you where you can find your boys. It’s as simple as that.”
Walker shook his head. “I don’t have a million dollars.”
The voice laughed again. “Oh, come now, Mr. Hanson, don’t play me for a fool. Your sons have sold over eleven million records. You have some money stashed away somewhere. I suggest you find it.”
Walker opened his mouth to object but was stopped.
“I state again, Mr. Hanson, you are to come alone. If I see anyone that even looks like a cop, you’re son will die. I’m not to be followed and I’m not to be toyed with. I will not hesitate for one single second to kill you or either of your sons. You know I’m serious. You know I’ll do it. Don’t pull a Beggar’s Canyon with me.”
Click!
“Hello?” Walker yelled. “Hello?” He threw the phone down on the bed and walked over to the window. “He, uhh, he wants five million dollars by six this evening. He wants me and Zac to deliver the money and he wants to take Zac with him until he knows the money is legit.”
“Walker, no!” Diana screamed. “He can’t have Zac!”
Mackenzie tugged on Walker’s pants leg. “Where’s Zac going, Daddy?” he asked.
Isaac walked over and picked up Mackie. “Come on, big guy, let’s take and your sisters into the other room. Tracy, could you help me?”
Tracy nodded and quickly collected Jessica and Avery.
“But where’s Zac going, Ikey?” Mackie asked, as Isaac carried him into the other room.
“Walker,” Diana said. “What are we going to do?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, honey, I just don’t know. I guess we’re going to give him what he wants. I don’t know what else to do.”
“But Walker, you can’t let Zac --”
“I’m not afraid of this guy, Dad,” Zac offered. “I’ll do anything to get Taylor back.”
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Noah walked over and opened it. It was Inspector Doubleday.
“I suppose you heard?” Walker asked.
“Yes, we did,” he answered. “The call came from a payphone on Bankhead Highway -- about a mile from he wants to meet you tonight. This guy isn’t too bright, you know.”
“What do we do now?”
“Well,” he began, “can you come up with the money?”
“I’ll have to talk with the boy’s manager, but I suppose it won’t be a problem.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. We’re going to try to find this guy, but we have to face the possibility that we’re going to have to play it his way. He’s in charge here, as much as we don’t him to be. You work on getting the money, Mr. Hanson, and we’ll work on finding this guy.”
Diana frowned. “Walker, you can’t let Zac do this.”
“I want to do it,” Zac protested. “I just want to get Tay back. I’ll be okay, Mom.”
“Diana, it’s like the Inspector said, this is his game. We have to play by his rules. We don’t have a choice. I’m going to call Chris and we’re going to work on getting this guy his money. It’ll be okay, Diana. It’s going to be okay.”
Walker sighed and tried to pull something deep from his memory.
Beggar’s Canyon?
The guy’s voice sounded familiar and now he was saying things that Walker knew he’d heard before.
But where?
Thunk!
Jesse, having found an old camper’s hatchet under the stairs, was hacking away at the basement door. The dull blade, however, was no match for the hard wood, but no one had bothered to tell him that.
Thunk!
Taylor laughed in spite of the circumstances. Seeing Jesse hack away uselessly at the door was quite humorous.
“What are you laughing at, blondie?”
Taylor smiled. “I was just wondering where you were hiding Babe, the big, blue ox.”
Jesse stopped and smiled.
“You’re wasting your time anyway,” Taylor said. “We’re going to get out of here. I don’t know how or when, but we’re going to get out of here. And that hatchet wouldn’t cut through a paper bag.”
“Well, I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I have to try.”
Thunk!
Taylor, trying to get his mind off Jesse playing fireman, continued to sing.
Jesse stopped pounding the hatchet against the door and listened to Taylor sing. There was something about the song that reached deep down inside and comforted him.
“What are you singing?”
Taylor stopped. “It’s called It is Well. It’s an old hymn my Mom taught me, written by a man whose four daughters perished in a collision at sea. His wife and daughters had gone ahead to Europe without him and that’s when the accident happened. While on his way to be with his wife, who had survived, he composed this hymn. It was originally written as a poem. My Mom sings it whenever things get crazy.”
Jesse joined Taylor on the top of the stairs. “Tell me about your family.”
Taylor laughed. “Jeez, my family? Well, there’s nine of us.”
“Wow,” Jesse said. “Nine?”
“Yeah. There’s Mom and Dad, of course. Then my brothers: Isaac, Zac, and Mackenzie; and my three sisters: Jessica, Avery, and Zoe.”
Jesse whistled. “Sounds kind of scary to an only child.”
“It’s not so bad,” Taylor said. “There’s always someone around to talk to. Ike, Zac, and me are best friends.” Taylor studied Jesse’s face. There was something there.
“What are your folks like?”
Taylor smiled. “Mom and Dad are great. They’ve really been supportive of this whole music thing. They don’t push us. They say we can stop whenever we want.”
“Do you want to stop?”
“Heck, no,” Taylor said. “Would you?”
Jesse laughed. “I guess not.” He was silent for a moment. “Did your Dad ever --” Tears filled his eyes and he looked away. “Forget it.”
Taylor took a deep breath. He had a feeling where the conversation was headed. “Has he ever hit me?”
All Jesse could do was nod.
Taylor thought for a moment. “Outside of whacking me on the rear whenever I screw up really bad, no. He’s never hit me in anger.”
“I hate him, Taylor,” Jesse said through clinched teeth. “I really hate him.”
“He’s not too high on my list either, Jesse,” he responded. “I know there’s nothing I can say right now to make you feel better about your Dad, so I won’t even try. I stopped asking why a long time ago. We have to take the bad times with the good times.”
“What would you know about hard times?” Jesse asked.
“Uh, hello, McFly,” Taylor said, knocking on Jesse’s head. “I’m locked in a basement; got hit with a baseball bat; big, scary, drunk guy.”
“Yeah,” Jesse responded, “my Dad. Oh, man, Taylor, I am so sorry about all this.”
Taylor looked Jesse in the eye. “Would you please quit apologizing for him? It’s NOT your fault. You can’t be held responsible for something your father has done. Please, Jesse, just let it go.”
“I can’t, Taylor. You get used to it after awhile.”
“Jesse, you’ve got your own life to live. Your Dad has chosen his path and you have to choose yours. Yes, your Dad is a crazed, drunken psycho -- no offense -- but you’re not. He’s not holding you back, you are. If you keep trying to fix his mistakes, you won’t have any time to focus on yourself.”
Jesse took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you, Taylor, once a I leave here I’m never coming back. You’re right, you know, I’ve got my own life to live. I can’t wait to get to college.”
“What are you going to study?”
“Mechanical engineering,” Jesse responded with pride. “I’ve waited so long for this, Taylor. It’s been my dream for as long as I remember. I’m finally going to make something of myself.”
“If anyone deserves it, Jesse, it’s you.”
“Thanks.”
They were both quiet for moment, each lost in their own world of thought. Jesse’s face broke into a grin and he turned to Taylor.
“What’s it like, man?”
“What’s what like?”
“Having all those chicks scream your name; traveling all over the world. What’s it like?”
Taylor smiled. “Well, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a total rush. It’s absolutely incredible. I mean, to have all those people there, singing along with your music, it’s amazing.”
“No,” Jesse replied with a grin. “What’s amazing is that people actually like your music.”
Taylor shook his head. “Let me guess: you’ve only heard MMMBop, right?”
“Wasn’t that enough?”
“Alright, smart guy,” he responded. “Seriously, have you ever given the rest of our music a chance?”
“Well,” Jesse began, “no.”
“I thought not. Listen, when we get out of here, you’re coming to our concert Saturday night.”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know if I can stand it.”
“Come on, Jesse, I’ll even throw in a set of earplugs at no extra charge. How can you say no?”
“Like this – NO.”
Taylor smiled. “Just for that, smart guy, you’re right up on the stage. That way the papers can get pictures.”
“Oh, you’re just too funny Taylor Hanson,” Jesse replied. “But I have better things to do with my Saturday night than to watch a bunch of teenies throw their underwear up on stage.”
“Well, they don’t throw underwear at us – at least not yet.”
Jesse stood up and grabbed the hatchet off the floor. “Enough friendly chatter; back to work.” He approached the door and began hacking away at it.
Abraham Lake was smiling. He was pretty proud of himself. So far, everything was going according to plan. He had no doubt that by this time tomorrow, he’d be enjoying the Caribbean sunshine. He couldn’t see how he could fail.
I’ve got Walker Hanson right where I want him.
“Not too bad for a last minute plan,” he said, pulling Jesse’s jeep into the driveway. “Not too bad.”
He stepped out of the jeep and walked confidently to the door. A sound caught his ear, a sound that was coming from inside of the house. He listened carefully.
Thunk! Thunk!
“What the hell?” He asked no one in particular while scrambling to find his house keys. He threw the door open and slammed it shut. The sound was coming from the basement.
Thunk! Thunk!
“That little –“
Abraham stormed into the kitchen and grabbed the revolver off the counter. He flipped the deadbolt and opened the door. Jesse was standing there holding an old camping hatchet. He raised the gun. “Give me that hatchet, Jesse.”
Jesse, with fire in his eyes, raised the hatchet to strike.
“Son,” Abraham began, “I don’t want to have to shoot you, but I will. I won’t let you ruin this for me.”
Jesse stood strong.
“You can’t win, Jesse. Now, give me the hatchet.”
Jesse smiled. “You’d really shoot your own son?”
Abraham snickered. “Try me, you little –“
What happened next was too quick to even see. Jesse charged forward with the hatchet, screaming. Abraham was caught off guard but quickly recovered. His finger on the trigger, he squeezed, firing off one round.
Pow!
Jesse was stopped cold. The hatchet fell from his hand and he immediately clutched his right shoulder. The pain was unbearable. He feel to his knees and looked up to his father, a “how could you” look in his eyes. “You – you really did it,” was all he could say.
Abraham kicked Jesse in the stomach. He looked down at his son and for just a moment, felt remorse. For just a moment, he regretted what he had just done. His eyes locked with Taylor’s and his rage returned. He took a step towards Taylor, grabbed him by the hair, and pointed the gun to his forehead. “Look what you made me do! Just look at him lying there. That’s your fault, you little twit! I ought to kill you right now. I ought to just blow your pretty boy brains out!”
Taylor stared at his attacker with terror. Pure fear gripped his body as he realized this was the second time in two days he’d had a gun to his head. He could do nothing but stare. Then, however, the peace that had flooded his spirit earlier, suddenly returned. And Taylor Hanson found himself singing again.
It is well, with my soul
It is well, it is well, with my soul
Abraham was taken aback. Something inside told him to back away. And he did. He stepped back and gazed down upon his son once more. He reached down and picked up the hatchet and threw it behind him into the kitchen. “Sorry, son, but you just had to play the hero. You just had to go and get involved where you didn’t belong. Nothing is going to stand in the way of my million dollars.”
Jesse managed to say, “million?”
He sneered. “Yep,” he said proudly. “That’s how much I’m getting for fairy-boy over there. Of course, they think they’re going to get him back, but they’re not. I hope you boys like living down here, because it’s where you’re going to die. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”
Abraham slammed the door, leaving Taylor and a wounded Jesse in the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Nine
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