By Ivana Hruba
While a abducted woman's husband refuses to pay her ransom, she plots revenge with assistance from 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 quandary that may swap him forever. This smart and fast moving mystery blends pathos with trickery and intrigue, drawing the reader into the personal global of a susceptible 15-year-old boy who believes himself to be the savior and protector of a wronged lady.
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Additional info for A Decent Ransom: A Story of a Kidnapping Gone Right
On his way out, Kenny playfully cuffed me and slammed the door behind him. 7 When Kenny left, I turned off the TV and went about doing my chores. I cleaned the kitchen and the lounge, and tidied up Kenny’s room, throwing out all empty tomato juice bottles. Kenny was very fond of tomato juice and always kept a box handy under his bed. My job was to refill that box at the end of the week. As I worked, I glanced towards my bedroom from time to time, wondering what Kathryn was up to. It was almost midday and she 44 n I V A N A H R U B Á hadn’t made a sound, and I was growing worried.
Of course, the making of a star is painful, hard work, let’s not pretend otherwise, Mother was always saying to anyone who’d listen, mainly the mothers of the other kids destined for stardom, who shared in the ambition and the grueling schedule. On this issue the mothers collectively agreed; putting aside their individual jealousies there was much sympathetic nodding backstage at all those pageants and talent shows. Yes, we were all in the same boat; hard-working, talented, artistic, or at least dedicated to the arts, as Mother used to say of the other kids on the way home when it was just me and her in the car.
Sensing she might appreciate the gesture, I pointed this crumb out to her. Indeed, she was grateful. Smiling at me, she wiped her mouth with the tip of her 48 n I V A N A H R U B Á little finger. Then she asked to be untied. When I loosened the rope, she kicked it off and stretched her legs in front of her. My too-long pants were bundled about her ankles, almost covering her feet. Her toes poked out and I noticed that her toenails were painted pink, a very pale pink that sort of sparkled. I was surprised to find that she had no corns or dry skin; in fact, her feet were very pretty if one can say that about feet.