reach him, either, I grabbed our coats and began to make my way up the row past dozens of knees.
My cell phone vibrated just as I reached the heavy exit doors. Marco’s name was on the screen but I couldn’t hear what he was saying because of the loud music. “Hold on,” I called.
I pushed open the door, hurried up the hallway into the lobby, and saw cops everywhere—not the familiar New Chapel blue-shirted variety, but the brown-and-tan-uniformed sheriff’s police. They were corralling employees and the few concert attendees who’d stayed in the lobby, and as soon as they spotted me, one of them commanded, “Hold it right there.”
I came to a stop. “Marco?” I called into my phone. “Are you there?”
“I’m here, Abby. Where are you?”
“In the lobby. What’s going on?”
“Wait. I’ll hold up my hand.”
In the midst of all the confusion, I finally saw Marco gesturing for me to come toward him as he talked with one of the cops. I caught sight of my brother’s red hair and saw him beside Marco, speaking to another cop. Then my gaze was drawn down to the floor, where Kathy was kneeling, clutching Tara’s shiny pink purse and crying.
Something happened to Tara.
My heart began to hammer so hard I couldn’t breathe. I was so paralyzed, Marco came to get me. I clutched his arms for support. “What happened?”
“Tara is missing.”
I heard the words but couldn’t wrap my mind around them. “Missing?”
“She was kidnapped from the ladies’ room.”
Oh, God! My head swam. “Wasn’t Kathy with her?”
“The ladies’ room was jammed,” Marco explained, “so Kathy told Tara she’d meet her outside when she was finished. I was waiting for them a few feet from the door. When intermission was over and Tara still hadn’t joined us, Kathy went back inside to see what was taking so long, but Tara wasn’t there. An attendant was cleaning, so Kathy showed her the photo she took of the two of you. The attendant hadn’t seen her but recognized Tara’s purse. Apparently, she found it on the floor behind the trash can and was going to turn it over to the lost-and-found department.”
“Someone kidnapped Tara from the washroom right under your noses?”
Marco pointed to people standing near the souvenir booth. “See those girls talking with the cops? They’re Tara’s school friends. They reported seeing a blond woman with a spider tattoo on her neck in the washroom, smoking a cigarette. Before the girls went back to their seats, they noticed the same blonde assisting an old lady in a long, baggy coat and knit hat toward the door, where a man was waiting. They said they noticed her because it was weird for someone to bring an old woman to a Barrow Boys concert.
“They didn’t get a look at the man’s face because he had a hood pulled up over his head, but they were able to give a good description of the woman—long, white blond hair with black tips, tattoo, heavy black eye shadow, black clothing. The cops are guessing the old lady was Tara in a disguise. She must have been Tasered or given an injection of some kind, because she was leaning heavily on the blonde, as though she didn’t have the strength to walk. The police are corroborating the girls’ story now with other witnesses.”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt sick inside. I couldn’t begin to imagine the terror my brother and sister-in-law were feeling. I had chided Jordan for coming along to protect Tara, and none of us had been able to do it.
“The police have issued an Amber Alert and sealed the exits,” Marco continued, “in case the girls are wrong and Tara’s still in the building. They’ve brought in a search dog, and a helicopter will be here soon for an aerial search, in case she’s on foot. They’ll find her, Abby.”
I could hear Kathy keening in grief, and my eyes welled with tears. I pushed through the people around her and knelt at her side, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Kathy, I’m
My cell phone vibrated just as I reached the heavy exit doors. Marco’s name was on the screen but I couldn’t hear what he was saying because of the loud music. “Hold on,” I called.
I pushed open the door, hurried up the hallway into the lobby, and saw cops everywhere—not the familiar New Chapel blue-shirted variety, but the brown-and-tan-uniformed sheriff’s police. They were corralling employees and the few concert attendees who’d stayed in the lobby, and as soon as they spotted me, one of them commanded, “Hold it right there.”
I came to a stop. “Marco?” I called into my phone. “Are you there?”
“I’m here, Abby. Where are you?”
“In the lobby. What’s going on?”
“Wait. I’ll hold up my hand.”
In the midst of all the confusion, I finally saw Marco gesturing for me to come toward him as he talked with one of the cops. I caught sight of my brother’s red hair and saw him beside Marco, speaking to another cop. Then my gaze was drawn down to the floor, where Kathy was kneeling, clutching Tara’s shiny pink purse and crying.
Something happened to Tara.
My heart began to hammer so hard I couldn’t breathe. I was so paralyzed, Marco came to get me. I clutched his arms for support. “What happened?”
“Tara is missing.”
I heard the words but couldn’t wrap my mind around them. “Missing?”
“She was kidnapped from the ladies’ room.”
Oh, God! My head swam. “Wasn’t Kathy with her?”
“The ladies’ room was jammed,” Marco explained, “so Kathy told Tara she’d meet her outside when she was finished. I was waiting for them a few feet from the door. When intermission was over and Tara still hadn’t joined us, Kathy went back inside to see what was taking so long, but Tara wasn’t there. An attendant was cleaning, so Kathy showed her the photo she took of the two of you. The attendant hadn’t seen her but recognized Tara’s purse. Apparently, she found it on the floor behind the trash can and was going to turn it over to the lost-and-found department.”
“Someone kidnapped Tara from the washroom right under your noses?”
Marco pointed to people standing near the souvenir booth. “See those girls talking with the cops? They’re Tara’s school friends. They reported seeing a blond woman with a spider tattoo on her neck in the washroom, smoking a cigarette. Before the girls went back to their seats, they noticed the same blonde assisting an old lady in a long, baggy coat and knit hat toward the door, where a man was waiting. They said they noticed her because it was weird for someone to bring an old woman to a Barrow Boys concert.
“They didn’t get a look at the man’s face because he had a hood pulled up over his head, but they were able to give a good description of the woman—long, white blond hair with black tips, tattoo, heavy black eye shadow, black clothing. The cops are guessing the old lady was Tara in a disguise. She must have been Tasered or given an injection of some kind, because she was leaning heavily on the blonde, as though she didn’t have the strength to walk. The police are corroborating the girls’ story now with other witnesses.”
I didn’t know what to say. I felt sick inside. I couldn’t begin to imagine the terror my brother and sister-in-law were feeling. I had chided Jordan for coming along to protect Tara, and none of us had been able to do it.
“The police have issued an Amber Alert and sealed the exits,” Marco continued, “in case the girls are wrong and Tara’s still in the building. They’ve brought in a search dog, and a helicopter will be here soon for an aerial search, in case she’s on foot. They’ll find her, Abby.”
I could hear Kathy keening in grief, and my eyes welled with tears. I pushed through the people around her and knelt at her side, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. “Kathy, I’m
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