I Told You, Eli Oxley

Chapter Thirty

Getting the keycard was easy-peezy. Duplicating it with the help of David was not too bad. But going back to my house to return it to my dad without him suspecting anything was a bit tricky. Nevertheless, I succeeded. And that's all I'll say about that.

Sometime between the keycard mission and the actual mission of breaking into my dad's work, I got a text from guess who – Lacey. That's right. Hope you didn't forget about her, because she, as it turned out, was an integral part of the whole thing, like that one weirdly shaped piece of the puzzle that you have no idea where it fits but can't wait to see where it does.

"Food court at hamilton place mall – sat. at noon. I'll be wearing a red ball cap"

It was all I needed. I was finally going to get some answers. Hopefully.

"Great! See you then – I'll be wearing a red hat too" I honestly didn't have any distinctive clothes, so this was all I could think of.

Saturday rolled around and I arrived at the mall at 10:30. I went from sitting at a table facing the mall's main entrance to the food court, to walking laps around the court just to make sure I didn't miss her come in from another side, to browsing Gamestop, to returning to the same table as before.

Lacey showed up at 12 sharp and I waved her down. She rolled her eyes, presumably at my awkwardness/dorkiness, and sat down across from me. She wore only a minimal amount of makeup – a bit different than the red war paint from her show – but it seemed like she didn't need any at all. She was much younger than I thought she would be, maybe twenty-one or two.

"How's your eyes?" she said.

It took me a second, but I realized she was referring to the mace incident. "Fine, now."

"I'm not blackmailing your dad," she jumped right in, "though I could if I wanted to. But since he's giving me money anyway, I didn't figure there was a point."

"What could you blackmail him for?" I didn't have a clear strategy for the conversation. I had a general idea of what I wanted to ask, and thought I could just improvise as needed. This was an "as needed" question.

"For kidnapping and holding me against my will. Even though good came of it."

"Wait, so he kidnapped you?"

"Technically, yes."

"Technically?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't aware there was more than one type of kidnapping."

"Well, in his own sick way, he would probably say he rescued me, but it was still kidnapping."

"Rescue you from what?"

"He didn't need to rescue me. I was doing fine on my own. He thought he was doing me good. Saving me from a life of hooking. But look at me now – I'm no better off. Well, except the other part."

"What other part?"

"Doesn't matter," she said, staring me down, daring me to challenge her.

"Ok, so he kidnapped/rescued you, then what? Where was he holding you?" As I asked it, I knew the answer.

"Some sort of prison, almost. I was in a room by myself, but I could hear other women. Screaming. Hell. The screaming seemed to never stop."

"And let me guess," I said, "they came in and injected you with something."

"How did you know?

"What did they inject you with?"

"How did you know?" She saw through my pitiful attempt at ignoring the question. But I didn't know at the time that she was really ignoring my question.