Free The Abduction by James Grippando

school to say she wasn’t coming.
    Mrs. Hood cleared her throat and called for attention. “Class, quiet, please.”
    A mob by the window was fighting to have their palms read by a girl who’d come as a gypsy. The rest of the students kept talking. Even in a magnet high school, it took only a few bad kids to disrupt the entire class, especially on Halloween.
    “Claaaaaass!”
    Her shriek was louder than even she thought possible. The room was startled into silence. As she paused to catch her breath, the concern in her eyes turned to fear.
    “Please,” she said breathlessly. “Has anyone seen Kristen Howe?”
     
    Reggie Miles reached into his pants pocket.
    His head was throbbing from the blow he’d received, but it had rendered him unconscious for only a moment. He’d pretended to be out for much longer than he was. Though blindfolded, he’d heard enough to realize they’d gotten Kristen, too.
    Reggie hadn’t heard a peep from her since the abduction. He’d overheard the men talking about some kind of injection they’d given her—something to make her sleep. He could still hear them talking, presumably in the front seat. That meant he and Kristen had to be in the back. Engine vibrations told him they were moving, as did the gentle rocking of the vehicle that came with maneuvering through traffic. He was counting the turns—left, right, right again—trying to figure where they were headed. He was losing track, though with all the stops and starts he was sure they had yet to reach the expressway.
    His hand moved a centimeter at a time, deeper and deeper into his pocket. The plastic cuffs pinched his wrists, but after twenty minutes he’d worked his hands into the right position. Finally, he reached his key chain. He cupped the entire ring in his palm, so it wouldn’t jingle. He slipped it from his pocket, then slid his hands back into the restrained position, behind his back. Reggie’s fingers weren’t as nimble as they used to be, but fifty years of whittling had made him pretty facile with a jackknife. He opened the blade.
    Slowly he started to cut through the plastic ties that bound his wrists.

9
    The Wharton Middle School van pulled into a narrow alley behind an old redbrick warehouse. It bounced over a pile of rusty pipes and a series of muddy potholes, slowing as it reached the garage at the end of the alley. The corrugated metal door rattled as it recoiled on noisy spring hinges. It opened just enough to allow the van to pass, then quickly rolled down. The van stopped inside, beside a white Buick Riviera with New York license plates.
    Fluorescent lights blinked on from the rafters overhead, illuminating the garage. Oil stains dotted the cracked cement floors like huge amoebas. Beneath the dusty canvas tarpaulins lay mounds of useless machine parts.
    Two men jumped out of the van, both wearing leather gloves and black leather jackets. The driver was Tony Delgado, a heavyset Italian with a Brooklyn accent. His younger brother Johnny was smiling widely.
    “Perfecta-mundo!” Johnny crowed. He and his brother slapped each other on the back.
    A third man emerged from behind the Buick. He was tall and clean-shaven, easily more handsome than the others. He was younger, too, in his early twenties, closer in age to Johnny than the older Delgado. Tony, the ringleader, had purposely kept his accomplices from meeting each other before the kidnapping, to prevent leaks. He quickly made the introductions.
    “Johnny, this is Repo.”
    They shook hands. “Repo what?”
    “Just Repo.”
    Johnny scoffed. “What, like Cher or Madonna?”
    He looked confused. “No. Like Repo.”
    Tony rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s like Lassie. Let’s get the little princess out of the van and into the car. You got the trunk ready, Repo? She’s not gonna suffocate in there, right?”
    “Have a look for yourself,” said Repo.
    Tony glanced at his brother. “Johnny, empty out the van.”
    Repo led