That was her name.
He checked after he got home.
He wished he didn’t know her name. Knowing nothing about her was a little easier. As just one of several nameless girls being trafficked into prostitution, she had no specific humanness, no details of who she was as a person. Obviously he had felt terrible about it, but in the counterculture he had been immersed in, in that situation, even though he wasn’t really Jack and didn’t actually take part in that kind of life, it was easier to swallow. It was almost normal behavior; he knew anyone around him would have done the same thing.
Back in the ranks of decent humanity where only wicked people did something like that to someone else, it was much harder. Knowing that Willow had two parents—or three, he still hadn’t checked into her father yet—and a brother who loved her, knowing that one week earlier she had probably been an innocent teenage girl with hobbies and crushes and dreams of her own… Ethan felt sick just thinking about it.
In 10 years, his own daughter would be Willow’s age, with her own hopes and dreams, and if anyone ever did anything to break her, he wouldn’t even hesitate to kill them with his bare hands.
He’d never had anything to be deeply ashamed of before. One week earlier, he slept well at night and wouldn’t have felt guilty when his wife gave him a good night kiss.
Amanda. It seemed like they’d been together forever—since college, anyway. She was a year younger, graduated a year later, but she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Long black hair, beautiful blue eyes, and the first time he saw her in her favorite black dress, he knew his single days were over.
She still had that dress. Still brought it out on special occasions. When he returned home, she demanded a date night. She hadn’t lost her baby weight from Caleb yet, so she wouldn’t be able to wear the dress, or that would hav
e been one of those occasions.
He didn’t care, she was beautiful no matter what she wore, no matter how much she weighed.
And he could hardly stand to look at her with the guilt of what he’d done weighing on his conscience.
The baby started to fuss once he woke up, and Amanda grumbled and buried her face in the pillow, so Ethan smiled a little and dragged himself out of bed.
Lifting his son out of his bassinet, he brushed a kiss across his forehead and brought him to his shoulder. “Hey there, little buddy,” he whispered, quietly walking to the door and easing it open.
The baby’s head bobbed a bit unsteadily but Ethan put his hand behind his head so he didn’t get too crazy.
“You’re going to spend a little time with Daddy right now, okay? We’re going to let Mommy sleep.”
Caleb didn’t seem entirely on board with that plan, as he started rooting for Ethan’s chest.
“Ah, sorry, nothing’s coming out of there, bud.”
After a diaper change, he went to the kitchen to get a bottle ready, checking his email while he waited. He wasn’t going into the office until later, but he should probably call his assistant and see if the Torres family had made their payment yet.
Their daughter was returned to them in the same condition as Willow, but at least in her case, he wasn’t the one who caused it.
He should also look into whether or not Willow’s father was really Antonio Castellanos. And then maybe look into relocating if he was.
---
The day after she got home, Willow got a new phone. When she was abducted, the phone had been in her pocket, and no one knew or cared where that was anymore.
Unfortunately, a means of communication with the outside world was the last thing on Willow’s mind. As soon as her number was working again, there was an outpouring of “support” from all of her friends, family, and people she had met once or twice several years earlier. She wasn’t sure why they thought she’d want to be pestered all day long, or why that was even considered supportive, but apparently people thought it would make her feel better. Then there were the people who were just blatantly curious about the details of her ordeal, and several who were apparently unaware of how inconsiderate it was to come out and ask those questions. As if she wanted to keep thinking about it.
Some reporter from the local paper had already called that morning, wanting to do a story about her.
A local business sent over an edible arrangement.
The neighbors took turns knocking on the door.
The oddest thing people felt the need to tell her was, “We’re so happy you’re home safe.”
Why would she think they wouldn’t want her to return home safely? Hoping for that outcome was a pretty normal response, so she wasn’t sure it needed to be remarked on, and she had no idea what to say back. Thanks? Thanks for preferring that I remain alive?
By the end of the day, she felt like a sideshow, and she turned her phone off to avoid the temptation of habitually checking it every time it went off.
Scott had been up her ass since she got back, too. Normally he wasn’t a clinger, but apparently having your girlfriend abducted by a group of criminals made you appreciate what you had. When he couldn’t get her on her phone after an hour, he resorted to calling the house phone; when she ignored that, he decided to just stop over.