Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [93]
She had closed the article with a quote she had gotten from Michelle Tanner on Monday, a melodramatic plea for her son’s return. Christine followed the quote with, “A mother’s desperate plea has, once again, fallen on deaf ears.” Now, seeing it in print, it seemed a tad too much; however, Corby had loved it.
She flipped through the rest of the paper and scanned the readers’-comment column to see whether her name was mentioned. Suddenly, she remembered the time, frantically searched for the remote and turned on the TV, flipping to Channel Five.
As usual, Darcy McManus looked impeccable in a deep purple suit and crimson red blouse. Christine examined McManus’s silky black hair, large brown eyes, darkened even more by the eyeliner and smudge of highlight on the eyelids. The lipstick was bold, a red to match her blouse. Christine couldn’t imagine herself in McManus’s place. She’d need a whole new wardrobe, but then she’d be able to afford one with what Ramsey was offering to pay her.
She had to admit the idea of being on TV did excite her. The Omaha ABC affiliate claimed a viewership of almost a million people throughout eastern Nebraska. She’d be a celebrity and maybe even cover national events. Though she had told Ramsey she needed time to decide, she knew her mind was already made up. She couldn’t justify turning down the money. Not with bills stacking up and the remote possibility of losing their home. No, she had no room for principles. She would accept the position in the morning, but only after talking to Corby.
She finished her wine. Another piece of pizza sounded good, but suddenly she was too exhausted to move. She decided to lay her head down for just ten or fifteen minutes. She closed her eyes and thought of all the things she and Timmy would spend her new salary on. In minutes, she was fast asleep.
CHAPTER 54
“Why don’t you eat some of your Big Mac?” the man in the dead president’s mask was saying.
Timmy curled into the corner. The bedsprings squeaked each time he moved. His eyes darted around the small room lit only by a lantern on an old crate. The light created its own creepy shadows on the walls with spiderweb cracks. He was shaking, and he couldn’t control it, just like last winter when he got so sick his mom had had to take him to the emergency room. And he did feel sick to his stomach, but it wasn’t the same. He was shaking because he was scared, because he didn’t know where he was or how he had gotten here.
The tall man in the mask had been nice so far. When he had stopped Timmy by the church to ask for directions, he had been wearing a black ski mask, the kind robbers wore in the movies. But it was cold out, and the man seemed lost and confused but not scary. Even when the man had gotten out of his car to show Timmy a map, Timmy hadn’t felt scared. There was something familiar about him. That was when the man had grabbed him and shoved a white cloth against his face. Timmy couldn’t remember anything else, except waking up here.
The wind howled through the rotted boards that covered the windows, but the room was warm. Timmy noticed a kerosene heater in the corner, the kind his dad had used when they had gone camping. Only that was ages ago, when his dad still cared about him.
“You really should eat. I know you haven’t had anything since lunch.”
Timmy stared at the man, who looked more ridiculous than scary dressed in a sweater, jeans and bright white Nikes that looked new except that one shoestring was knotted together. A pair of huge, black, dripping rubber boots sat by the door on a paper sack. It struck Timmy as odd that such new Nikes could already have a broken and knotted shoestring. If he had new Nikes, he’d take better care of them than that.
There was something about the muffled voice