"I know. I'll get my names together, too. Call me when you get home, okay?"

Lucy glanced at the time, then closed her eyes.

"Jesus, I have to call Richard. God, that's going to be awful, telling him about this."

Richard Chenier was Lucy's ex-husband and Ben's father. He lived in New Orleans, and it was only right that she tell him that his son was missing. Richard and Lucy had argued often about me. I guessed they would argue more.

Lucy fumbled with her briefcase and her keys, and all at once she started crying. I cried, too. We held each other tight, the two of us crying, my face in her hair.

I said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened or who would do this or why, but I'm sorry."

"Don't."

I didn't know what else to say.

I walked her out to her car, then stood in the street as she drove away. The lights were on in Grace's house, Grace with her two little boys. The cold night air felt good, and the darkness felt good, too. Lucy had been kind. She had not blamed me, but Ben had been with me, and now he was gone. The weight of the moment was mine.

After a while, I went back inside. I brought the Game Freak to the couch and sat with it. I stared at the picture of me with Roy Abbott and the others. Abbott looked like a twelve-year-old. I didn't look much older. I had been eighteen. Eight years older than Ben. I didn't know what had happened to Ben or where he was, but I would bring him home. I stared at the men in the picture.

"I'll find him. I'm going to bring him home. I swear to God I will."

The men in the picture knew I would do it.

Rangers don't leave Rangers behind.

The Abduction: Part One

The last thing Ben saw was the Queen of Blame gouging the eyes from a Flathead minion. One moment he was with the Queen on the hillside below Elvis Cole's house; the next, unseen hands covered his face and carried him away so quickly that he didn't know what was happening. The hands covered his eyes and mouth. After the initial surprise of being jerked off his feet, Ben thought that Elvis was playing a trick on him, but the trick did not end.

Ben struggled and tried to kick, but someone held him so tightly that he could neither move nor scream for help. He floated soundlessly across the slope and into a waiting vehicle. A heavy door slammed. Tape was pressed over his mouth, then a hood was pushed over his head, covering him with blackness. His arms and legs were taped together. He fought against the taping, but now more than one person held him. They were in a van. Ben smelled gasoline and the pine-scented stuff that his mother used when she cleaned the kitchen.

The vehicle moved. They were driving.

The man who now held him said, "Anyone see you?"

A rough voice answered from the front of the vehicle.

"It couldn't have gone any better. Make sure he's okay."

Ben figured that the second voice belonged to the man who took him and was now driving. The man holding him squeezed Ben's arm.

"Can you breathe? Grunt or nod or something to let me know."

Ben was too scared to do either, but the first man answered as if he had.

"He's fine. Christ, you should feel his heart beating. Hey, you were supposed to leave his shoe. He still has his shoes."

"He was playing one of those Game Boy things. I left the game instead. That's better than a shoe."

They drove downhill, then up. Ben worked his jaws against the tape, but he couldn't open his mouth.

The man patted Ben's leg.

"Take it easy."

They drove for only a few minutes, then they stopped. Ben thought they would get out, but they didn't. He heard what sounded like a power saw in the distance, and then someone else climbed into the van.

The third man, one who Ben hadn't yet heard, said, "Heez owt on heez dek."

Ben had heard Cajun French and French accents for much of his life, and this was familiar, though somehow different. A French man speaking English, but with some other accent under the French. That made three of them; three total strangers had taken him.

The man who had taken him said, "Roger that. I see him."

The man who held him said, "I can't see shit from back here. What's he doing?"

"He's moving down the slope."

Ben realized that they were talking about Elvis. The three men were watching Elvis Cole. Elvis was looking for him.

The man with Ben said, "This is bullshit, sitting back here."

The rough voice said, "He found the kid's toy. He's running back to his house."

"I wish I could see."

"There's nothing to see, Eric. Stop bitching and settle down. Now we wait for the mother."

The Abduction: Part Two

When they mentioned his mother, Ben felt an intense jolt of fear, suddenly terrified that they would hurt her. His eyes filled and his nose clogged. He tried to pull his arms free of the tape, but Eric weighed him down like a heavy steel anchor.

"Take it easy. Stop it, goddamnit."

Ben wanted to warn his mom and get the police and kick these men until they cried like babies, but he couldn't do any of that. Eric held tight.

"Jesus, stop flopping around. You're going to hurt yourself."

They waited for what seemed like hours, then the rough voice said, "I'll make the call."

Ben heard the door open and somebody get out. After a minute, the door opened again and whoever it was got back in.

The rough voice said, "That's it."

They drove down out of the hills, then back up again on winding streets. After a while, the van braked. Ben heard the mechanical clatter of a garage door opening. They eased forward, then the engine shut off and the garage door closed behind them.

Eric said, "C'mon, kid."

Eric cut the tape holding Ben's legs, then Ben was jerked by his feet.

"Ow!"

"C'mon, you can walk. I'll tell you where."

The man held tight to Ben's arm.

Ben was in a garage. The hood pushed up enough for him to glimpse the van – white and dirty, with dark blue writing on the side. Eric turned him away before he could read what was written.

"We're coming to a step. Step up. C'mon, lift your goddamned feet!"

Ben felt for the step with his toe.

"Shit, forget it. This is taking too long."

Eric carried Ben into the house like a baby. Being carried made Ben mad. He could have walked! He didn't have to be carried!

Ben glimpsed dim rooms empty of furniture, and then Eric dropped his legs.

"I'm putting you down. Stand up."

Ben stood.

"Okay, I put a chair behind you. Siddown. I've got you. You won't fall."

Ben lowered himself until the chair took his weight. It was hard to sit with his arms taped to his sides; the tape pinched his skin.

"Okay, we're good to go. Is Mike outside?"

Mike. Mike was the man who had taken him. Eric had waited in the van. Now Ben knew two of their names.

The third man said, "I want to see heez face."

Eye- wahnt- tu- see- heez- fehss.

His voice was eerie and soft.

"Mike won't like it."

"Stand behind him if you are afraid."

Stand- beehighnd- heem.

The voice was only inches away.

"Christ. Whatever."

Ben didn't know where he was or what they were doing, but he was suddenly scared again, just like when they talked about his mother. Ben had not yet seen any of the three men, but he knew that he was about to, and the thought of seeing them scared him. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see any of this.

The hood was pulled off from behind.

An enormously tall man stood in front of him, staring down at Ben without expression. The man was so tall that his head seemed to brush the ceiling, and so black that his skin drank the room's dim light and glowed like gold. A row of round purple scars the size of pencil erasers lined the man's forehead above his eyebrows. Three more scars followed the line of his cheeks below each eye, each scar a hard knob like something had been pushed under the skin. The scars terrified Ben; they looked creepy and obscene. Ben tried to twist away, but Eric held tight.