CHAPTER ONE
“I’m eight. I should be allowed to ride in the front, not sit in the back like a baby.” Jia Chung braked to a stop and looked in the rear-view mirror. It was mid-May. The afternoon sun had broken through the clouds to shine on the Japanese plum trees lining the driveway of their White Rock estate. The trees were in full blossom and petals were falling, giving the appearance of pink snow swirling down. Out on the main road she drove slower than the limit. Her car was a Mercedes-Benz S-Class which her husband, David, had purchased for her last month. They had a fifteen-minute drive to where Tommy had his music lessons. “Mom, did you hear me?” She glanced in the rear-view mirror again and focused on her son. “Tommy, we’ve talked about this. It’s safer in the back. Maybe when you’re ten.”
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Don Easton
“My friends get to ride in the front and they’re eight.” Jia thought it funny how matter-of-fact, almost mature his voice sounded, but she hid her smile. “You’re a bit smaller than your friends.” Tommy was silent for a moment. “Yeah … I know.” “Children don’t all grow at the same rate. I bet you’ll have a big growth spurt soon.” “Do you think so?” He paused. “That’d be good. The boys at school tease me all the time.” “What do they say?” “That I look like an elf ’cause I’m so little. And that my ears stick out and my hands are small, like a girl’s.” Why are children so cruel? “I know you said Asian people are shorter, but none of my Chinese friends are as small as me.” In the mirror she saw the forlorn look on his face. Poor little guy. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “I don’t let it bother me.” Jia hid her concern. “Your time will come. And as far as your hands go, none of your friends can play the piano as well as you.” She turned off onto a residential lane that meandered through the neighbourhood, then added, “You’re really good.” “You have to say that — you’re my mom,” Tommy said. But his face brightened. “It’s true! Ask Mrs. Finch. She told me that you’re her favourite student.” “She said that? Really?” “Yes, but don’t tell any of the other students. That wouldn’t be kind.”
The Grey Zone
9
As Jia braked for a stop sign, the jolt of her car being bumped from behind ended the conversation. She glanced in her rear-view mirror at a white van. Damn it. Is there any damage? The van’s driver, an old man, pounded the steering wheel with his fist in apparent self-recrimination before getting out. Grey hair stuck out from under his fedora, which, like the long, dark topcoat he wore, had seen better days. His eyes peered at her from behind glasses with thick black frames, and his legs wobbled as he clutched the open door, seemingly afraid to let go. “Stay in the car,” Jia ordered Tommy. “I’ll be right back.” She glanced at her rear bumper as she passed. Is that a ding, or just dirt? The old man bent over the driver’s seat, probably looking for insurance papers. She tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you okay?” He turned quickly, grabbing her wrist with one hand and jabbing something into her stomach with the other. “Keep quiet and get inside. If you make any noise, we’ll kill you and your kid.” Jia gasped when she looked down and saw the pistol. The man’s voice sounded much younger than he looked. He’s wearing a mask! She was startled further when the side door of the van slid open and another man wearing an identical mask peered out at her. “My purse is in the car,” she replied in panic. “We don’t want your fucking purse,” said the man inside the van. “Get in here or you’ll never see your kid again!” She glanced at Tommy — he was peering out the back window, unaware of what was happening — then swallowed nervously and looked inside the van. It was made
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for hauling cargo; the only seats were up front. She put one foot inside, then was shoved from behind. Seconds later, she was face down on the floor with the man’s knee on her back. “Stay still and keep quiet,” one of her attackers ordered. “Please, don’t hurt me,” she begged in a whisper. “You can go ahead and take my car. The keys are still in the ignition. Just let me get my son out and you can have it.” “I’ll get your kid,” the man who’d been driving said. “You stay put. I’ll tell Tommy you want to see him.” Oh, my God! “How do you know his name?” “We know everything about you. Now shut the fuck up while I go get your kid.” Jia’s worst fears were confirmed. These men had in mind something much more horrific than just stealing her car.