Taken Read Online Free Page A

she’s jazzed about moving to D.C. I’ve heard her talking with him about it on the phone. Lots of people do the long-distance thing.”
    “So why isn’t she back?”
    Mary Sue climbed onto Krista’s bed, and crossed her legs.
    “Dude. The year’s essentially over. Yeah, Kris was due back Sunday, but she finished her classwork weeks ago. She was going to write a piece for the paper, but if they’re having a blast in Margaritaville, why not enjoy? That’s where I’d be if I had a hoochie boy to go with.”
    “So you aren’t worried?”
    She frowned as she thought about it.
    “Not like Nita, but kinda. It’s weird she isn’t returning my texts, but they’re way out in Palm Springs. Maybe she can’t get a signal.”
    I thought about it and decided the signal business was unlikely. You didn’t stay overdue and out of reach for a week because of bad cell service. I also considered telling her about the five-hundred-dollar ransom demand, but Nita had asked me to save Krista the embarrassment.
    “Is Berman the kind of guy who would be involved in something sketchy?”
    “I never met him. I don’t know, but I doubt it.”
    I looked at her, surprised.
    “Are you kidding?”
    “If you knew Kris, you would doubt it, too. She’s the straightest person on earth.”
    “I didn’t mean that. I meant, how is it you’ve never met him? They’ve been together for over a year.”
    She shrugged.
    “He’s never been here when I’ve been here, and he never comes in.”
    “Not even when he picks her up?”
    “Parking here sucks. She goes out to his car.”
    “He never hangs out?”
    “She goes to his place. No roommates.”
    Nita appeared in the doorway, looking tense and irritated.
    “I can’t just sit out there doing nothing. I’m going to check her bathroom and closet. If she planned a longer stay, maybe I can tell by what she took.”
    “Good idea.”
    I didn’t really think it was a good idea, but it would keep her busy. She disappeared into the bathroom, and I turned back to Krista’s Wall of Infamy and considered the picture of Berman and his Mustang. Maybe they had returned on Sunday like she promised, only she had kept the party going by staying with him.
    “You know where he lives?”
    “Uh-uh. I think it’s in Brentwood or one of those canyon places, but I’m not sure.”
    “Does Krista keep an address book?”
    “Her phone, for sure. Nobody uses paper. She might have a contact list on her computer, but her computer’s locked. You need a password.”
    “Okay. How about you help me search her stuff? An envelope saved with a birthday card might give us a home address. A handwritten note on a letterhead. Something like that.”
    “Okay. Sure.”
    Mary Sue started on the computer leg of Krista’s desk, and I started on the leg scattered with papers. I fingered through the printouts and clippings, looking for anything useful about Berman or their trip to Palm Springs. Most of the printouts were articles about illegal immigration, mass graves in Mexico, and the increasing power of the Mexican cartels. Several were interviews with immigration activists and political figures. Sections of text in almost every article were highlighted in yellow, but none of the notes I found were about Jack Berman, wedding chapels, or Vegas acts. Most appeared to be about the material at hand:
who makes the money?
where do they come from?
who is involved?
    Mary Sue edged closer to see what I was doing.
    “This is research for her editorial. You won’t find anything there.”
    “You never know. People make notes on whatever’s handy.”
    “Uh-huh. I guess.”
    “Is this the piece she was going to finish Sunday night?”
    “Yeah. It’s about illegal immigration and immigration policy. She got super into it a couple of weeks ago.”
    Nita appeared in the doorway.
    “What was she doing?”
    Mary Sue repeated herself.
    “Writing her editorial. It’s her last editorial. She’s been working on it for a couple of