Free Girl, Stolen by April Henry Page B

child? She must be so frightened.” He turned and spoke directly to the camera. “As a father, I beg you, I beg you, look at Cheyenne’s face. Please, please don’t hurt her, let her go.” His voice turned hard. “And know this – if you harm one hair on my daughter’s head, I’ll come after you myself.”
    The reporter, Tami, leaned forward. “Do you think this is related to your being president of Nike?”
    Cheyenne’s father nodded. The tears were gone from his face now. “It’s likely. It’s no secret that my daughter means everything to me. They could have been watching, waiting for a time when she was vulnerable. As my wife said, she didn’t have her guide dog with her this morning.”
    Then he addressed Cheyenne directly. “Cheyenne, I know we are physically separated, but my heart” – his words stumbled and broke – “my heart has never separated from you, not for a moment, not for a second. Please be strong. We will get you home soon.”
    Griffin looked at Cheyenne. She was trembling so hard it was as if she were about to fly apart. Tears were now running down her cheeks, but when she spoke, her tone was angry and agitated. “I thought your dad was going to ask for a ransom. How come they’re not saying that they’ve heard from the kidnappers and are considering their demands? They’re talking like they don’t know anything!”
    “I don’t know.” Griffin raised his voice to match hers. “I have no idea. I’ve been with you, remember? Maybe my dad wasn’t able to get through to them.”
    The announcer was saying, “Police have released few details about the case, but have suggested Cheyenne Wilder may have been kidnapped for ransom. There is no evidence this was the random act of a sexual predator. Right before we went on air, officials told us they have received over a hundred tips so far, and each one is being pursued. The Wilders’ phone is constantly ringing, and they are receiving hundreds of e-mails. The police are concentrating on leads from the public. So if you were at Woodlands today around ten A.M. and may have seen a green Escalade, license plate 396 CVS, please call a special hotline that has been set up, 1-888-555-1212. Here’s a picture of Cheyenne with her dog, Phantom.” The TV cut away to a photo of Cheyenne, grinning. Even the dog, a golden lab, seemed to be grinning. Before he had dropped out of school, Griffin had learned there was a word for that, a word for thinking that animals had the same emotions as humans.
    Griffin couldn’t remember the word anymore.
    And Griffin knew that he would never see Cheyenne grin like she was in the photo. As he stared at her wide smile, the announcer concluded with, “The race is on to find Cheyenne Wilder and to rescue her alive.”

 

MIGHT AS WELL BE DEAD
     
    C heyenne snapped her head around to face the front door.
    “What’s the matter?” Griffin asked.
    “Someone’s here.” The car she had begun hearing a few seconds earlier pulled up outside the house, fast enough that gravel scattered in its wake. Maybe it was someone coming to rescue her. She remembered the gun that Griffin had. Would he take her hostage? Cheyenne scooted to the far end of the couch, trying to get out of reach.
    “Crap – is it my dad?” He clicked off the TV.
    She heard a car door open and close. Then people talking. Just as quickly as they had bubbled up, her hopes burst. Although she couldn’t make out the words, Cheyenne recognized the voices – it was Griffin’s dad and the two men who worked for him. Quickly, she rubbed her scarf over her face. She didn’t want anyone to see her tears. But it was a minute before they came in. She thought she heard another car door close. Finally, steps on the wooden porch. The door crashed open, and a cold wind blew over them.
    “Fraternizing with the enemy?” Roy said. He sounded, Cheyenne thought, drunk. The other two men laughed.
    Cheyenne was as tight as a guitar string.
    “Hey.”