Chapter 3: That Day

Waves of relief washed over Jenny as the trailer began moving. She’d heard the cowboy return, pausing to speak to the horse in a warm, deep tone.

“Alright, Dahlia, let’s head on home.”

Now, out on the highway, the motion settled into the monotonous rhythm of the segmented concrete slabs that made up the road they on which traveled. The trailer was open at the end, and a vent was open near the front to provide ventilation for the horse. Which made it cold for Jenny, bare legs and all, so she hunkered inside the huge black hoodie, leaning against the side of the trailer.

For the first time that day, she felt her body begin to relax, and she reluctantly drifted off to sleep. The nightmare she’d known awaited her was not far behind.

She’s on her way home from school. In Chelsea’s car, they have it all worked out. They’ll both tell their parents they’re spending the night with each other. Neither girl’s folks ever think to check up on them. Because truthfully, they’re good kids, honor students, community volunteers and student leaders.

But Seniors or not, there’s no way they’ll be allowed to attend a party at Club Dance. It’s just a little white lie, and they’ll have the time of their lives. Greg Morgan is supposed to be there too, and Jenny’s already decided that if she gets the chance, she’s going to let him punch her V-card. She hasn’t told Chelsea that, though.

“Okay, so call me tonight and let me know what your parents say,” Chelsea says, putting her vintage MG into reverse and backing out of Jenny’s driveway.

Jenny’s walking into the house, thinking of how cool Chelsea’s parents are, buying her such an awesome car for graduation. No matter that the big day is still months away. Jenny has her eye on one of those cute little Smart cars, the ones that are all electric and good for the environment, but she imagines the best she can hope for is dinner at Cheesecake Factory and another savings bond for college.

The house is quiet and that strikes Jenny as unusual. Her mother is undoubtedly home by now, and she always has the television on, even if she isn’t watching it.

When she rounds the corner into the family room, she sees her father sitting stiffly on a kitchen chair in the middle of the room. And that’s odd. Why sit on a hard wooden chair when he could sit on the couch? And his new silk tie is wrapped around his mouth like a gag.

She frowns. “Hi. What’s up?”

A voice from behind her startles her. “This must be your lovely daughter, James.”

When Jenny turns, she sees her mother, still dressed in her favorite pink skirt suit, being shoved from the kitchen into the den by a man Jenny’s never seen before. Her mother is quietly crying.

By now, Jenny’s alarmed. “What’s going on?”

A deep humorless laugh came from the man with her mother. He’s slightly shorter than average, and about the same age as her father, she guesses, and he’s wearing an expensive-looking suit. “Do you want to tell her James? Or should I?”

“I don’t think he’s saying anything,” comes another voice from Jenny’s right. A tall burly man dressed all in black grasps Jenny tightly by the shoulders.

She struggles to pull away from him. “Dad?” she yelps, and her mother cries harder.

“You see, pet,” the well-dressed man addresses Jenny, “when your father stole from me, he was playing with fire.”

He hands off her mother to a third man and crosses to Jenny, cupping her cheek with his hand. She feels her bile rising as he lightly strokes her hair. “So pretty, with your red hair and green eyes. Like your mother’s.”

He looks at her father. “You might have thought about your family before you double-crossed me, James. Now…” He trails off, tutting in mock sympathy. “Well now, we have a bit of unpleasantness to take care of.”

He nods to the man holding Jenny. The tall burly man, who smells of sausage and vinegar, drags Jenny to the kitchen island and bends her over it, forcing her head to face her father. In the same way, her mother is dragged into the kitchen and bent over the counter opposite Jenny. She’s crying hysterically, and Jenny’s torn between concern for her mother and the realization of what’s about to happen.

“Now, James,” the well-dressed man says to her father, his voice eerily calm, “you will watch. If you try to close your eyes, we’ll just have to remove your eyelids.”

Jenny’s mother screams over the sound of fabric ripping, and now she’s crying harder as the man behind her grunts in effort.

The burly man who smells like an Italian deli runs his hands all over Jenny’s body, as she stares beseechingly at her father. “Daddy,” she cries out, “please…”

There’s a tearing in her core and she screams in pain. The well-dressed man stands over her, and she’d almost swear she sees sympathy in his eyes as he raises a gun to her mother’s head.

The explosion shocks Jenny, and her face is spattered with warm wet goo. Her mouth opens but no sound is formed. Suddenly, she’s outside of herself, staring down at the scene from above. She watches as the man behind her steps away and her body crumples to the floor. She watches as the well-dressed man walks to her father and pulls his trigger again.

Waking to find herself curled up on the floor of the horse trailer, Jenny gasped, eyes wildly scanning around, reassuring herself that she was safe, that she was miles away, and years away, from that fateful day, the last day she uttered a single word.

That day, when she’d regained consciousness, she’d awakened in a bed in a strange house. That was when the man in the expensive suit had introduced himself at Victor Sorkin. He explained to her that originally, the plan had been to kill the whole family. But he’d been taken with her red hair and green eyes. For the time being, she’d function as his ‘pet.’ And when he tired of her, he’d reallocate her through his human trafficking connections.

That had been two years ago. At the time, public furor over the execution-style slayings and her disappearance had been fierce, not that Jenny had known about it. She hadn’t seen any news in all that time.

Find Jenny Stone! posters featuring her Senior picture had been plastered all over Boulder. Candlelight vigils had been held. Voices had been raised in outrage. But eventually, everyone had gone back to their lives.

No one had considered looking for her as far away as California. Not that they’d have found her. Victor had kept her hidden away, his personal plaything to be ready at his beck and call. Now at age twenty, nearly twenty-one, she’d never made it to that party, never graduated from high school, and never started college. It was as though her life had stopped that day.

Jenny sat up and pulled the jacket over her legs and feet again, glancing up at her equine traveling companion. Whatever happened next, there was no going back.