Chapter 56 The Kidnap
Elsie
The next morning , Mrs Chavez found me in the kitchen making breakfast, “Leave that for the other girls to handle, Child.” She said, and handed me the long grocery list. We need to restock everything the party used. Mr. Field is ready by the side entrance. Go."
The task was perfect cover. I was back in the world, free from the mansion's walls, if only for an hour.
I walked out and saw the black town car waiting. Mr. Field, was already holding the passenger door open for me. He was always perfectly polite, perfectly reserved. But after everything that had happened—the note Rosa told me had come from him —I looked at every quiet, loyal staff member as a potential threat.
I climbed into the backseat. Mr. Field got in and pulled out onto the long, private driveway. I watched the driveway disappear through the car window as we pulled out of the Lancaster mansion.
Mr. Field didn’t talk much. He never did. His face was always calm, unpredictable, his jaw set like stone. He’d been driving for the family for as long as I could remember. He didn’t smile, didn’t joke. Just nodded when spoken to.
The road stretched ahead, lined with tall trees and scattered houses. I glanced up at him through the rearview mirror.
“Mr. Field,” I said softly, testing his reaction.
He didn’t answer. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
I tried again. “You work for Mrs. Lancaster, don’t you?”
He shifted slightly, clearing his throat, eyes flicking to the mirror for just a second before returning to the road.
“I work for the family,” he said finally. His voice was low and dry.
That wasn’t an answer. My fingers gripped my list tighter.
I leaned forward a bit. “Then why did you send the note?”
The question hung between us. I saw his eyes in the mirror again, sharp, almost startled, but he said nothing. The car rolled on.
“I know it was you,” I said, my voice trembling but steady enough to sound sure. “You’re the only one who could have placed it in my room without anyone seeing.”
He didn’t respond. His silence was louder than any denial.
The road ahead bent sharply, leading toward the narrow lane that cut through the woods before opening to the main street. I noticed then how tense his shoulders had become, how tight his grip was on the steering wheel.
Something wasn’t right.
The hum of the tires against the road suddenly slowed. Mr. Field’s eyes darted to the mirror again, and I followed his gaze. That was when I saw it, a dark car behind us, keeping the same pace, just far enough not to look suspicious.
My stomach tightened. “Why are we slowing down?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. The car began to pull toward the side of the road.
“Mr. Field?” I said, my voice rising. “Why are we stopping?”
The other car behind us slowed too. My heart dropped. I turned around just in time to see its front lights flash once.
“Mr. Field,” I said again, panic creeping into my tone, “what’s going on?”
He said nothing.
The tires crunched over gravel as he stopped fully by the roadside. The engine still hummed, but the air inside the car went dead silent.
Then the sound came, doors slamming. Quick footsteps.
Before I could even move, my door yanked open with a violent jerk. A pair of rough hands reached in and grabbed me by the arm. I screamed, kicking out, clutching the edge of the seat, but the grip only tightened.
“Let me go!” I shouted. “What are you doing?!”
Mr. Field didn’t turn. He just sat there for a second, still facing the road ahead, his hand hovering over the gear shift.
“Mr. Field, help me!” I screamed again, desperate now.
He looked back once, his face cold, then stepped on the gas and drove away — leaving me in the hands of strangers.
“Mr. Field!” I screamed after the car, but the sound of my voice was swallowed by the rush of another engine.
The men dragged me toward the black car parked just a few steps away. My legs scraped the rough gravel. I tried to twist free, clawing at their hands, but one of them shoved me hard.
“Please,” I cried, “where are you taking me?”
They didn’t answer. One of them cursed under his breath and forced me toward the back door. I tried to pull away, but another man grabbed my shoulders. The smell of sweat and gasoline filled my nose.
I screamed again, a sharp, desperate sound that echoed across the empty road. But there was no one around to hear it.
The door flew open, and I was pushed inside. The seat was cold against my skin, my heart hammering so loud I could barely think.
“Stop! Let me go!” I cried, trying to crawl out, but a hand clamped over my mouth.
“Quiet,” a rough voice hissed into my ear.
I fought harder, biting against the palm that covered my face. The man grunted, but didn’t let go.
The man beside him pulled something from his pocket, unfolded it, and pressed it against my nose and mouth.
“No!” I tried to scream, but the sound came out muffled. The smell hit me, strong, chemical, dizzying. I turned my head away, but his hand gripped me tighter, forcing me still.
My vision started to blur. The world tilted sideways. I tried to push his arm away, my fingers weak and shaking. The trees outside the window began to spin, their green fading into streaks of gray.
“Don’t… please…” I whispered, my words slurring as the darkness began to swallow the edges of everything.
The last thing I saw before it all went black was the outline of the road — the car speeding away, the light shrinking to nothing.