The Stolen Girl by Samantha Westlake Page B

jiggles, a bit of careful twisting, and suddenly I felt the bobby pins turn! I had done it! I had successfully picked a lock!
    I withdrew the pins and tossed them aside; I no longer needed them. But before immediately getting up and making a mad dash out of the room, I took one last, long look around, trying to see if there was anything else that could be of use. No phone, no obvious weapons, and unfortunately, most of Roads’ clothes were far too large to suitably fit me. I did grab a shirt out of one of his dresser drawers and used it to wipe myself off as best I could, trying to get the worst of the road dust and grime off of my skin.
    There was a mirror hanging on one wall. I stepped in front of it, looked at my reflection, and grimaced. Yeah, definitely nothing like that beautiful picture they had shown on television. I was fairly certain that my dad or his campaign manager had picked that. Sure, it was a fairly recent picture of me, but it also showed off my beauty, made me seem appealing - and thus, my father seemed appealing as well. Tugged at the heartstrings, you might say. I didn’t believe for an instant that my father would sink so low as to even consider such a thing, but I couldn’t say the same for his campaign manager and staff. After raking my hands through my hair a couple times to try and smooth it back down before giving up, I decided that things weren’t going to get any better.
    Slowly twisting the doorknob, I stuck my head around the door frame and peered cautiously down the hallway. There wasn’t anyone in either direction, but I wanted to be sure - no point in escaping, only to get nabbed just outside the door! I had swiped a pair of overly large shoes from Roads’ closet, figuring that large shoes were better than no shoes, and I made exaggerated care to lift each foot fully before lowering it back down as I made my escape. The halls were carpeted, but a creak or a scrape could still attract unwanted attention.
    No one appeared, however, and I successfully made it to the top of the second floor landing. I peered down the stairs, concerned that they might still be occupied. Chainz and his female companion had apparently moved on, however, and the way looked clear.
    In fact, as I strained my ears, it sounded as if the whole party had died down a bit. There was much less noise rising up from downstairs, and the few shouts and exclamations I still heard were fainter, possibly coming from the kitchen or somewhere else in the back of the house. That meant that the coast might be clear!
    Trying to balance between speed and stealthy, I hurried down the stairs. Just as I had guessed, it looked like the living room was deserted! I could see a couple figures, men and women equally, sprawled out on the couches, but there didn’t seem to be much motion any longer. They had simply passed out - some of them possibly still inside their partners.
    I carefully walked across the carpet. I could see the front door! I didn’t have any idea what I would do once outside, but I figured that it wouldn’t be too hard to walk down the hill and into town. Then, all I had to do was find a phone, maybe the police station, and I could phone home. Someone would come and pick me up, and this would all be over!
    “Hey! Wait just a minute!”
    I froze mid-step. Oh no. A second later, a big hand descended, grabbing roughly at my arm.
    “This party’s just getting started!” slurred the voice from behind me as the hand tugged at me. “And baby, you sure are a cutie! Why don’t you take a little wander upstairs with me? I’ll show ya a good time!”
    I turned as the hand pulled, but I didn’t recognize this man. He was an older fellow, his hair a solid metal gray and a bit of a beer gut hanging over a pair of jeans. His leather vest hung open in the front, and he was holding a large bottle of amber liquid loosely in his other hand. He gazed down at me, but he was blinking, and didn’t look like he could properly focus.