I remember the day so vividly. Even though no one else does; I remember. I remember everything. I was twelve. Molly was five. We were dressed and ready for school. My father was on one of his many business trips. I had expected to find my mother in the kitchen with breakfast for us. But she wasn’t there. Molly immediately began to announce what she wanted to eat and I told her to make it herself or go get Mom. And then suddenly my mother appeared. I’ll never forget her face. It was pale and her eyes looked almost wild with fear. She didn’t say anything. She just grabbed us both and led us to the car. Neither one of us could speak: we were scared to death. What in the world was going on? My mom drove in silence, and finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked her what happened. She said, “There was an incident.” An incident. From that day forward, this occurrence was to be called “the incident.” During the drive I only learned two things. 1: my father pissed someone off. 2: we were going up north to the family cabin. When we arrived at the cabin, we were greeted by my Uncle Alex’s wife, Tammy, and their three children: Abigail, Trevor and Jeremy. I asked where Alex was and was told that he was with my grandfather. I asked where my grandmother was and was told she was with her sister in Rhode Island. I wanted to ask more, but was told to go play. It sucked being twelve. That night I snuck downstairs to listen to my mom and Tammy talk over a bottle of wine. I learned more about my family that night than I ever really wanted to know. I learned that my father was a ruthless business man that didn’t care about consequences and how dirty his hands would get. I learned that my uncle, Alex, worked side by side with my grandfather and that his ethics were questionable. I also learned that my grandfather had several ties to illegal operations and many, many enemies. It was at that moment that I decided I did not want to ever visit my father at his office again. We stayed at the cabin for three days. My mom and my aunt tried to make it seem like we were on vacation or something, but we weren’t stupid. We knew something was going on. And then suddenly we were back in our respective cars, returning home as if nothing had transpired. Every time I would bring up “the incident” to my mother, she would suddenly get a case of amnesia, which I suppose was better than my father saying, “Sounds like some wild dream you must have had.” Of course Molly didn’t remember it: at least not the way it really happened. She just remembers being at a lake. I guess that’s a good thing, I mean, she was only five. I remember when night when we were still at the cabin; I asked my mother if Uncle Richard was okay. Tammy scoffed and muttered something obviously obscene under her breath. My mother hushed her and then told me in her sweet way, “Richard does not associate with the Taylor family.” And I responded in my own little way, “But he IS Taylor family.” And then Tammy retorted, “Not anymore.” At that point, my mother told me to go to bed. It really sucked being twelve. I am returned to the present when I notice a shopping center to my right. It’s secluded. I need another car. Someone could have seen me taking this one. Someone could be looking for this car. I turn into the lot and let my eyes land on the next prize. It’s a mess inside, and probably has little gas, but that’s okay. I’m almost at St. James Academy. I take my sweater and the screwdriver and repeat my “steal-hotwire and drive away” actions before glancing at the rearview mirror. It doesn’t look like anyone is following me. But it can’t be this easy. It’s a trap. It has to be a trap. Oh God, if Molly is dead… don’t think! I stare at the road. I can’t think like that. Stay on task: Get Molly.