Page 73 of Lost
It would probably be easier if he didn’t have seven sets of eyes on him, too. His entire band was watching his every move, and Jack was no different from where he sat beside Pat; Georgia had ventured in from the kitchen when she had heard the front door open, and Queenie had followed on her heels. Every last one of them was staring, and Zack had never been so conscious of having so many sets of eyes on himself.
He and Brendan sat, and he tore open the envelope.
A single sheet of paper was all that was inside. Zack tugged it free, taking in more blue ink and words that were at least more legible than his own name had been. He unfolded the paper and had to force his eyes to cooperate. The entire world was growing fuzzy, but he needed to know what was written. It was essential.
The message was simple. Effective. Heart-stopping.
You promised a reward for the girl. How much are you willing to pay for the life of your son? Hand over your millions in cash and you’ll get him back alive. Call the police and he dies.
This was followed by an address that he didn’t recognise and a time almost twenty-four hours away.
Zack knew fear.
The two of them had first met when he was a child being told that his father had been in a minor car accident. The word “minor” had meant nothing to him back then, but the words “car crash” had sent his heart into a frenzy. He thought the thing was going to burst from his chest, and it hadn’t stopped until his mother had assured him that his father was fine, he was just a little bruised. It had seemed like the worst was over.
Fear had paid him a visit again when the band was still in its infant stages, during one of their very first tours. He remembered showing up for practice already three beers deep and being told their old bassist had decided to ditch them. His heart had once again kicked into overdrive, washing the alcohol from his system. It took months before fear would leave him again after that. It was always in the back of his mind, reminding him that the dream they’d all worked so hard for could be over in an instant. His life as he knew it could be over. It was a hard few months.
The third time fear struck him had been a few days after Tommy had died. He’d cried for his fallen friend, mourned the loss of one of the world’s greatest men, but it hadn’t occurred to him until almost a week later that the loss of Tommy could also mean the loss of the band. It was a terrifying thought. The band was something Zack relied on greatly in life — it was his job, his sanctuary, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning. The thought that it could all be gone was one that he hated. But as always, fear had eventually let him be. They had pushed past it; they had moved on.
But now fear was back, and it showed no signs of letting him go.
Black spots clouded his vision. His head spun. He closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught, swallowed once for good measure, and tried to wrap his mind around what he had just read.Lysander. Somebody had taken the boy. Somebody had snatched him off the street and was holding him for ransom. Zack could barely comprehend it. Dakota’s situation had been one thing. How could both twins be subject to these incidents that were only supposed to happen to people in the news?
Somebody had taken the paper from his hands.Good. There was no way in hell that he would be able to explain its contents to his friends. Better that they read it themselves. He tried to focus. He needed to call the police.
Call the police and he dies.
No. He couldn’t call them. He needed to call his lawyer — but she in turn would only get the police involved. His heart skipped a beat at the realisation. He needed to go to the bank, withdraw the money and get it to these people, whoever they were. But this too was impossible. People couldn’t just walk into banks and withdraw millions of dollars at a time. And it too would attract the attention of the law.
“Zack?Zack?”
He opened his eyes. Georgia was kneeling before him. At some point while he’d been lost in thought, she had taken his hands and was squeezing them hard. He was aware of the pressure now, but only just. There were tears in her eyes and her lip quivered with worry. Beside them, Brendan held the note in his hands. He was several shades paler now, and he looked at Zack with such sympathy that Zack just knew Brendan understood the war going on inside his head. He looked to the rest of the room. Aaron was mortified — it was clear that he had no idea what to say; Chris’s bottle was shaking in his hand, so he smartly set it on the table before it spilled. Pat, while also having paled, looked thoughtful.
Zack breathed. “What am I supposed to do?”
Even he noticed the change in his voice. It was weak, broken. His mind ran a mile a minute, but everything he came up with he shot down as quickly. Every thought he had, every scenario he ran through, ended with the same thing.
He was going to get Lysander killed.
They needed more time. If only they had more time, Zack could get the money without drawing attention and everybody could go home happy.
“Jack,” Pat said calmly. “What did the men look like?”
Who cares?Zack wanted to say. What did it matter what they looked like? It only mattered that they had taken his son, that they were going to kill him if Zack didn’t pay up. Did Pat not realise the severity of the situation? Was that how he was able to look so calm?
“I only really saw two of them,” Jack replied, almost apologetic. “The one in the front passenger seat was blond. Brown eyes, I think. Lots of freckles on his face. He was wearing a hat, so it was a little hard to see.” The boy swallowed. “And the one in the back, he had brown hair. It was messy. But I... I didn’t see much else of him.” He somehow looked even sorrier as he shot a look Zack’s way and added, “He had a gun on us.”
Gun. The word echoed in Zack’s head.
“I think Lysander knew him. He was angry when he saw him.”
Zack’s heart skipped another beat. Pat looked like this had been what he was hoping to hear.
“Zack, you have a picture of that Alfonzo character, don’t you?”
It took Zack several moments to remember who Alfonzo even was.
“The file,” he finally managed to say. “Top draw in my office.”
