Family is Forever (Sequel to Running on Insulin)

Chapter 3

Tyler POV

It had been three days since Samantha went missing. We had no idea where she might be or who had her.  We were sure Stanley  had something to do with it, and the police were taking that seriously, but as the days went on, we worried more and more about our daughter. We knew Stanley didn't take care of Samantha's diabetes, and there was  no way he was going to suddenly be the epitome of a great dad now. This was revenge. Against us or Samantha, we weren't sure.

Jenna was a mess. She couldn't sleep, would barely eat. More often than  not, I'd find her sitting in Samantha's room, on her bed, just crying. Most of the time, I would just sit with her and hold her. Usually I'd cry with her. There was not a lot of talking happening in our house. And when there was, it was one of us asking each other about Samantha. What we could have done to protect her better. Should we have kept her home from school the morning we found out about Stanley escaping? We'd reasoned there was no way he knew where Sam was. He might have known our address but he wouldn't have known we switched her school.

Josh was still staying with us. When Sam went missing,  he refused to go back to California until she was found and safe. He kind of floated around the house, helping us get stuff done, since neither of us were in any frame of mind to do anything for ourselves.  Most nights he had to remind us to brush our teeth or take showers.

"Hey Ty," he said, as I walked downstairs that fourth morning. The house was the police command center, and there were always officers around waiting for phone calls from Sam's abductors. There had been nothing.  The police had been by Sam's old house, and there was no sign of anyone being there.  No car in the driveway, no car in the garage. No lights on in the house at any time of the day. No movement. They were keeping an eye on the house. No one went in, no one went out. No signs of life, no reason to believe anyone was there. The police were sure he wouldn't be so stupid as to actually go back to his old house, but it was a possibility.  Patrols in the area, and surveillance of the house itself showed it didn't seem that anyone was in the house. Police who'd gone and looked in the windows (they hadn't been able to get a warrant to actually enter the house) said nothing was disturbed and everything was covered with a layer of dust that hadn't been disturbed. People walking around the house would disturb the dust even just a bit.

I looked at Josh as I came into the kitchen. He handed me a cup of coffee and made me sit at the kitchen table.

"Eat," he said, putting a plate of eggs in front of me. Cheesy scrambled eggs. I started crying. Josh came and sat down beside me and hugged me. "I know, buddy. I know. But cheesy eggs are the best comfort food."

"Samantha loved, loves, your cheesy eggs," I said through my tears. I didn't want to think of her in the past tense, but the police had said if there were no clues after the first 48 hours, the likelihood of her being found alive slimmed.  And we had no idea what Stanley was capable of. Or what he would do.

Jenna walked into the kitchen, her eyes red rimmed. She'd managed to pull together some  clean clothes - a t-shirt and sweatpants. She saw me sitting at the table, crying and at the plate in front of me and also started crying.

Josh wiped his eyes and got up and helped Jenna to the table. He brought her coffee and some eggs, which she also cried over.

"At least I don't need to salt the eggs," Josh joked. I gave him a wan smile.

We'd spoken to the press the day before, and I saw the morning paper had our picture and Samantha's picture on the front, pleading for her return. Would Stanley even see the paper? Would he care?

We'd mentioned that Samantha was diabetic and that she wouldn't have had her insulin on her, since we kept her fast acting and long acting here at home, and the school held on to her pen for lunch. We pleaded with her abductors, knowing Stanley had to be involved somehow, to please return her to us. 

The police were concerned that there had been no ransom call, no  note, nothing. It was as if Samantha had simply disappeared off the face of the earth, along with Stanley and the other two prisoners.

The prison had told the police that Stanley and Gillingham were friends, having met in the prison. They said the third escapee, a man named Tracey Williams didn't have any connection to the two of that they were aware of. They'd been housed in different parts of the prison, and as far as they knew, had had no contact.  Gillingham and Stanley had been in the same block, and were known to spend their free time together, with a few other men. None of the other men had been in the transport van, and none of them alleged to know if Stanley  had said anything about escaping or any plans to abduct his daughter. They'd been offered reduced sentences if they had any information. None of the men were violent offenders. They said they hadn't heard either man talk about anything regarding Stanley even having a kid at any time when they were all together. They even asked the investigators to tell us they were really sorry they couldn't be more help.

The lead investigator, a detective named Jake Alpert, came in while we were attempting to eat breakfast and checked in with the officers who'd been stationed in the house overnight. As usual, there was no new information. He came into the kitchen and Josh poured him a cup of coffee.

"How are you two holding up?" he asked us.

"How are we supposed to be holding  up?" I asked, hoping I didn't come off sounding sarcastic or rude.

"A fair question. I've been on too many of these types of cases, and every family handles this differently.  I know you two have already been questioned and cleared. Sometimes it turns out these are the parents or friends of the parents, but we've cleared your friends as well. You told us about the friends from out of town who had been here, and we've followed up with them all. So they've all been cleared. Your families have also been cleared. We're checking any lead we can. We've set up a hotline."

"What good is a hotline?" I asked. "Aren't you just going to get a bunch of crazies calling?"

"Of course. And we have. According to some, your daughter is in France, was seen at the airport, was at Disneyland, was seen crossing into Canada, what else? Um, oh, panhandling on the streets of Acapulco. That was a new one. We set up the hotline knowing we'd get those types of calls."

"So then why bother?"

"In case the kidnapper, or kidnappers, decided to contact us through that. Sometimes they want to be caught. That's why we left out the colour of Samantha's backpack and what type of jacket she was wearing. Because if they do call, they'll give themselves away when they describe the kid they're claiming is Samantha. So far we've gotten calls that she had a blue backpack and a brown coat, a black backpack and a red coat, and a blue coat and purple backpack. None of which you know are accurate, since she was wearing an olive green jacket and the backpack is red with white straps, yes?"

I nodded. It was the backpack I'd used for the Stressed Out video. It had some of our logos or symbols drawn on the straps. Samantha had been afraid to use it when I mentioned it, but I was happy she was using it.

"I know I mentioned that as time goes on, finding her unharmed is less and less likely, but we're doing everything we can. I promise. I know it seems like we're doing a lot of sitting around, but I've had officers at Samantha's school, they've talked to her classmates and her teachers, with their parents' knowledge. We're canvassing the area around the school to see if anyone has seen anything out of the ordinary, and we're canvassing the area around the Deitz's old house, to see if anyone has noticed anything there, either. I promise you, one way or the other, we will find her. Deitz can't hide forever. He's a wanted man, and he knows it. What we need to do, is  not make him desperate. Desperate men do desperate and stupid things. And we are doing everything we can to bring Samantha home safely. We do, however have to do something a little bit unpleasant," Jake said.

"What's that?"

He sighed.

"I have to ask you for a piece of clothing or something of Samantha's, and maybe her hairbrush or toothbrush.  We're going to get some dogs out to search the areas around the school and the Deitz's old house."

"You think she's dead and dumped somewhere, don't you?" Jenna whispered.

"No. We don't think that, but we do have to investigate that avenue. I'm so sorry."

Jenna broke down into tears. I held her. Josh said he'd grab a t-shirt and her brush from upstairs.