Wanted (Amanda Lance) - By Amanda Lance Page 0,106

having run on the treadmill too long. The monotony of the same place even though it felt like I never stopped moving, though I confess the days were mostly just long. It didn’t bother me that the FBI and local police were always around asking questions I kept pretending to not know the answers to, listening to our telephone conversations, and checking our mail, following us around. I had checked it off as a mere nuisance, only feeling bad that it inconvenienced Dad. It didn’t bother me that Adam Harpsten had been temporarily transferred to the Trenton office and ran weekly reports on our family so that the FBI headquarters could be prepared for any other impending threat.

Honestly, it didn’t even bother me that the media was hounding us day and night, wanting interviews and exclusives to ‘our story.’ Dad and I actually found an advantage in it, since reporters had swamped Robbie at Fort Drum so relentlessly that the ranks actually rerouted his contract until the end of the following month. So while Dad pretended to be annoyed by the pretty female reporters in the parking lot of his work, I think deep down he was exceptionally overjoyed at having both of his kids back home and safe.

The only thing that ever got to me was not having Charlie. A lot of the newspapers said that when I mysteriously showed up at a bus stop (little did they know it was of my choosing) half passed out, drugged, and a face covered in bruises, I might have been dropped off there by a sympathetic cohort of my kidnapper. Some of them were even eager to point out how the authorities could have been off base about their original theories. I guess they liked the wild potential in the fiction they could sell.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but be miserable about being away from Charlie. I knew I was being stupid, selfish even, in my misery, yet I couldn’t help myself. When night fell, I was reminded of his lips on mine that first time. I half hoped to see him every time I stepped out of the bathroom, his arrogant smile waiting for me. I wondered how he might sketch nearly everything…I spent my days hoping he was keeping his temper, that he wasn’t hurting anyone…mostly himself. Inside, it chewed away at me not knowing if he was injured or if he was taking care of himself. I didn’t even know what country he was in. I didn’t even know if he was alive.

Dad walked into the kitchen with a pizza and a bottle of soda. He looked worn. It was hard to deny that he had aged since my disappearance. Not knowing where I was, or if I was alive had clearly wrung his nerves raw, turning his skin ashy and his remaining dark hair gray. I felt responsible for this, since in many respects I could have avoided the entire ordeal. But at the same time, it was the only element I could truly regret. My adventure had allowed me to know and love Charlie, and that was worth any pain or inconvenience I had gone through.

“Hello there, my adoring fans. I have brought tidings of great joy!” The aroma of pepperoni filled the dining room but still couldn’t tempt my stomach. I knew Dad and Robbie had noticed I hadn’t been eating, and while I tried to smile and go through the motions for their sake, most of it made my stomach hurl.

Robbie jumped from the table. “It’s about time, Old Man. I’ll grab some paper plates.”

I started stacking up the piles of newspapers and pushing them to the side. I could feel Dad’s eyes on me, his constant worry. Although he had never come out and directly asked me about what had happened, I had assured him time and time again that I was “Okay. Fine. All right.” And I think he tried to take me at my word.

“Say, Addie,” Dad pulled out a chair beside me. “That one social worker and the psychologist from California called again. She uh—thinks maybe you should make an appointment with an associate of hers over here. You know, like talk to someone about what happened?”

I smiled. I hated the falseness of it all. “Dad, we’ve been over this. I don’t need therapy or anything. I’m okay, honest.”

He tapped his fingers on the table. He had no idea what he was doing. “It might be good for you to talk