“Sure,” Amanda says like she doesn’t believe me, but then she rolls her eyes. “Whatever. We’ll talk about that later. Do you want me to put the password in?”
Pulling my hand back, I nod at her because my throat closes up so tight with anxiety I can’t speak.
Amanda quickly types the password in, opening up the folder. Inside, there’s file upon file, all dating back to seven months ago.
I point at the very top file and Amanda double-clicks on it, opening it in the word processor.
The three of us fall into silence as we read my father’s personal account of what happened when we were grabbed by the Russians.
Of how he first learned that I was taken.
He received a call from Lucifer himself informing him that his daughter had been grabbed and thrown into a van outside a bar.
Naturally, at first, he suspected Lucifer was behind it, that it was some kind of scheme or blackmail situation. After all, Lucifer had warned him not to let anyone know what had happened, and not to investigate or go public.
That if he did, me and my friend’s lives would most likely be forfeit.
Lucifer assured my father that he was working on the situation and he would do everything in his power to safely rescue me.
Of course, my father didn’t completely believe him, and he couldn’t sit around and do nothing. He ended up driving around the city himself, searching for us. And when he came up empty-handed, he confided in his closest friend and confidant, Jacob Morrison.
Together, secretly, they worked on figuring out what happened to us. All other investigations were pushed to the side, and the officers under their commands were utilized without being aware of what they were really working on.
Despite pulling every string he had at his disposal, my father kept hitting roadblock after roadblock in the investigation.
A few days later, when he was about to give up hope and was considering raiding Lucifer’s compound, Lucifer reached out to him and informed him he had located me and was in the process of rescuing me.
Two minutes after the call with Lucifer, Jacob Morrison called my father and told him he had a major breakthrough. That he had received an anonymous tip that a woman matching my description had been kidnapped and was going to be smuggled out of the country through Landow Airstrip.
Not trusting Lucifer, my father and Jacob Morrison immediately dispatched a team to the airstrip.
Ten minutes later, on the way to the airstrip, Lucifer called my father again and informed him I had been successfully rescued and was ready to be reunited with him.
Again, believing it was some kind of setup, my father sent Jacob and the team on ahead to the airstrip while he rendezvoused with Lucifer.
Much to his surprise and relief, Lucifer was in fact telling the truth, and we were reunited.
Reaching the end of the file, I lean back and give Amanda and Beth time to finish reading. My mind and emotions whirling at all the new information.
Memories… so many bad memories threaten to overwhelm me, but knowing now is not the time to break down, I hold them back.
During my captivity, at my weakest point, I became convinced no one was looking for me.
But my father was doing everything in his power to find me.
Once Amanda then Beth nods, signaling they’ve finished reading, we click to the next file.
Instead of opening in the word processor, this file opens in the image viewer, and at once I realize it’s a copy of the police report my father filed after I was safely returned.
“Close it,” I croak at Amanda.
I don’t need to see the file, I already know everything that’s in it. It’s my personal account of what happened and a copy of the medical examination I went through at the hospital.
Amanda quickly closes out the image without questioning me about it.
Moving her finger along the touchpad, she hovers the pointer over the next file and frowns at the screen.
“It will probably take us days to read through all of these,” she points out.
And she’s totally right. The folder is filled with dozens of files that span over the last few months.
Like I said, my father documented everything.
“We don’t have days,” I sigh.
Too much could go wrong before we make it to the end.
“I agree.” Amanda frowns.
“What if we just jump to the latest file and work back from there?” Beth asks.
“You, Beth, are a genius,” Amanda says and looks to me for confirmation. “I think that’s our best bet.”
I nod in agreement.
All the stuff in the earlier files, we probably already know. What we don’t know is why my father went after the Russians the way he did.
Scrolling all the way to the bottom of the folder, Amanda double-clicks on the file that’s dated the day before my father died.