By Ivana Hruba
While a abducted woman's husband refuses to pay her ransom, she plots revenge with the aid of her reluctant kidnapper. Discovering her husband's plan to betray her, she frames him for her personal "murder," forcing her young kidnapper into an unexpected moral issue that would swap him forever. This shrewdpermanent and fast moving mystery blends pathos with trickery and intrigue, drawing the reader into the personal international of a weak 15-year-old boy who believes himself to be the savior and protector of a wronged girl.
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Additional info for A Decent Ransom: A Story of a Kidnapping Gone Right
12 I parked the truck under our big tree so that Kenny would have shade to safeguard his slumber. I stretched his legs the whole length of the back seat and I got him a blanket. I also rolled down the window a bit to ensure flow of air. This, I hoped, would help him get a muchneeded rest, and so the chances of him blowing his stack when he woke up would be diminished. Back at the house, everything was just as before. Not a sound was heard from Kathryn’s room, for which I was grateful because I was 60 n I V A N A H R U B Á exhausted.
I need to pee. Nothing. Me continued to hide deep within me, leaving me all alone. All of a sudden, I felt a very strange sensation as if a cloud was lifting from my mind, and I began to grasp that this, perhaps, was not a dream. A D E C E N T R A N S O M n 37 It was certainly an intriguing idea worthy of exploration; however, at that point my head cover was unexpectedly pulled off my face, and the rag fell out of my mouth. I kept my eyes shut, afraid of what I would see if I opened them. To calm myself, I took deep breaths, all the while calling for Me.
I realized she was right behind the door. She whispered through the keyhole. Begging, pleading, her words snaked through the narrow opening and hovered above me like a genie. Let me out. For a moment, I was unable to respond. Inside my chest, my heart fluttered like a hummingbird and my head was spinning, and it felt as if I were going back in time. Once again, I was a small boy locked up in that room, feeling lonely and scared and afraid that Uncle Clem would come back. I’d be very quiet but sometimes I would cry and then I would kneel by the door and talk to Fluffy, my rabbit, whose box was in the kitchen, through the gap between the door and the floor, and many A D E C E N T R A N S O M n 45 a time I got a bump on my head when Uncle Clem, who didn’t like me talking to Fluffy, suddenly opened the door.