Chapter 17 - HOPE COSTELLO DOES NOT PANIC
Hope Costello was eleven years old and deeply annoyed by kidnappers.
Her brother was less composed.
Anthony sat beside her in the back of a van, trying not to cry.
Hope squeezed his hand.
“Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Panic.”
“You're panicking.”
“I am not.”
“You're squeezing my fingers.”
Hope released him.
“Strategic pressure.”
Anthony sniffed.
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“It does now.”
Their father had taught them very little about his former life.
Their mother had taught them something more useful.
Observe.
Remember.
Wait.
Hope counted turns.
Left.
Right.
Long straight road.
Train tracks.
Then gravel.
Anthony whispered:
“Dad's going to kill them.”
Hope looked at him.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Mom won't let him.”
That comforted both children.
The van stopped.
They were taken into a house.
Not tied.
Two guards.
One woman.
The woman looked nervous.
Hope noticed everything.
Cheap perfume.
Ohio license plate outside.
Church bell somewhere nearby.
Freight train every twenty minutes.
A water tower visible through the bathroom window.
She remembered the town name painted across it.
MARLOW.
When the woman brought sandwiches, Hope smiled sweetly.
“Can I have ketchup?”
The woman frowned.
“What?”
“Ketchup.”
“There isn't any.”
“My brother won't eat without ketchup.”
Anthony opened his mouth.
Hope kicked him.
He closed it.
The woman sighed and left.
Hope immediately whispered:
“Bathroom window.”
Anthony understood.
Too small for Hope.
Not too small for him.
Ten minutes later, Anthony squeezed through.
He dropped outside.
Hope remained.
He looked up.
“Aren't you coming?”
“I can't fit.”
His face crumpled.
“I can't leave you.”
Hope swallowed fear.
“You're not leaving me.”
She sounded exactly like Clara.
“You're getting Dad.”
Anthony hesitated.
Then ran.
Back in Joliet, Arthur was unraveling.
No ransom demand.
No contact.
Daniel refused to speak.
Arthur paced.
Clara watched.
Finally she stepped in front of him.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“They have our children.”
“I know.”
“I can't—”
“I know.”
His voice cracked.
“I can't lose them.”
Clara touched his face.
“Then don't lose yourself first.”
Arthur shut his eyes.
The phone rang.
Unknown number.
Arthur answered.
A small voice whispered:
“Dad?”
Arthur stopped breathing.
“Anthony?”
Clara grabbed his arm.
“Dad, Hope said I had to find a phone.”
Arthur nearly collapsed.
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“What do you see?”
“A gas station.”
“Name?”
“Parker's.”
Clara was already searching.
“What town?”
“I saw a water tower. Marlow.”
Michael found it.
Marlow, Indiana.
Arthur was moving before the call ended.
“Anthony, listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“Go inside. Give the phone to an adult. Stay where people can see you.”
“What about Hope?”
Arthur's eyes filled.
“We're coming.”
Then Anthony whispered:
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Don't kill anybody.”
Arthur froze.
“Hope said Mom would be mad.”
Clara covered her mouth.
Even Gregory turned away.
Arthur closed his eyes.
“I won't.”
It was perhaps the hardest promise Arthur Costello had ever made.
Forty-seven minutes later, police surrounded the house.
Arthur waited.
Every instinct demanded entry.
Clara held his hand.
Then the front door opened.
Hope walked out.
Alone.
Hands raised.
Arthur broke.
He ran.
Hope reached him.
He dropped to his knees and pulled her against him.
Clara wrapped both of them in her arms.
Hope started crying only then.
Arthur buried his face in her hair.
“I'm sorry.”
Hope pulled back.
“For what?”
“For all of this.”
She frowned.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You didn't kidnap me.”
Arthur laughed through tears.
Clara looked at her daughter.
Definitely his stubbornness.
Definitely her logic.
Police arrested the kidnappers.
One gave them the name of the person who hired them.
Arthur expected Daniel.
He was wrong.
The name was Elena Rourke.
Samuel's daughter.
May you like
And according to federal records—
Elena had been legally dead for fourteen years.
