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“Hi. I’m looking for an Agent Lopez.”
“Okay. I just need you to fill this out.” The receptionist’s soft voice helps calm my buzzing nerves, not knowing if I’m at the right place. She hands me a check-in log. I write my name and then stare at it for a second. Should I have written my real name? “Are you finished, hun?” she asks as I contemplate who the hell I am. I give up and hand it back. She picks up the phone and calls someone. Trying to calm my racing heart, I spin around and focus on the building.
A couple tables with chairs aren’t far from the desk, so I turn and whisper, pointing to the tables. A sympathetic expression crosses her face. I’m sure I look like a hot mess.
I stare at the phone in my hand, flipping it over and over, wondering what’s on it. “Ms. Foley, I’m Agent Lopez. How can I help you?”
I glance up at the nicely-dressed, middle-aged man, with warm chocolate-colored eyes, hands clasps in front of him. I stand up and clear the emotional knot lodged in my throat.
The words on my tongue are about to change my life. I wipe my free hand down my jeans.
“Hi. I… um…” I swallow, taking a moment, trying not to pass out again. His eyes jump to the phone I’m squeezing in my palm and back to my face. “My name is Gabriella Malone, and I was kidnapped twenty-four years ago.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Aspen
The plane’s tires grind against the pavement in the unknown city, and my mind has passed the point of processing the easiest of questions. My body, exhausted from the last twenty hours of being poked, prodded, and questioned, is numb. But they confirmed it, I’m Gabriella Malone.
“Ready?” an agent asks, standing and peering at me with a bag in his grip. I blink. One word. It’s a simple word, yet I don’t have any idea how to answer. Am I ready for what?
To leave this plane?
To start my life over?
To meet my actual parents?
That would be a universal no.
Then again, I wasn’t ready to find out that the last twenty-four years was all a lie either. But here I am, out of sorts, like I don’t belong anywhere. How does one restart their life from scratch? The bag he’s holding is the only thing I own.
“Ms. Foley,” the agent states. I blink him back into focus.
Is that still my name?
“Yes?” I squeak.
“We’re here. We should get going.” Where is here?
“Oh.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and drag my body up, standing. Ready or not, I’m being thrown into an unknown world. I follow him down the aisle and walk out the door. The bright sun and warmth surprise me, and I hold a hand in front of me to shield my face. Yellow grass surrounds the desolate private airport and in the distance, I see hills covered with trees. A stark opposite of all the cement in New York City.
“Where are we?” I step down the narrow airplane stairs, making sure not to trip.
“Austin, Texas,” he replies over his shoulder. Three black SUVs await us at the bottom of the stairs. A blond woman leans against one, dressed in a plaid long-sleeved button-up shirt and jeans. She stands out from the multiple men all dressed in black suits looking serious with black shades covering their eyes. My escort places my bag in the back of one of the SUVs.
“Hi, Ms. Foley. I’m Agent Halli Hughes. I’m with the Secret Service.” She extends her hand. When I slip mine in hers, she grips it with a firm shake. “Anything you need, let me know and I’ll get it for you.”
Can I have my old life back?
She opens the passenger door for me. I glance in the empty SUV and again at the eerie quiet airfield. Last time I got into one of these vehicles, it didn’t work out for me, which was merely two days ago.
“Where are you taking me?” This time I ask before getting in.
“We were informed you know Addison Roberts?” She waits for a confirmation. I nod, wondering what Addie has to do with this. “Her aunt has a ranch here.” Her tone is all business, unlike her outfit. And her answer explains nothing, but she looks at me expectantly.
Hoping I don’t regret this, I get into the vehicle and she shuts the door behind me. My butt sinks into the smooth black leather that smells new in the spotless interior. Agent Hughes slides in at her side and pushes a button to start the engine. I shiver as cool air blows out of the vent right on my face. I move the vent away from me. It’s warmer here than New York, but not that much.
After minutes of silence, I ask, “Have they found my dad?” I half-expect her to give me a dirty look for referring to him as my father, but she maintains her neutral expression.
