“9-1-1? I am calling about three, maybe four people who have been abducted. I can tell you where they are.”
“Let me get your name, number you are calling from and location.”
“Oh okay.” I tried to take large gulps of air to still the panic. “It’s my daughter. They…he took her. One of them had a gun at my head.” I trembled as I remembered cold metal pressed against my temple.
“Ma’am calmly give me your name, your number, the closest address.” I could sense rising impatience in the operator.
“Address? I dont’ know. I’m in the part of the psychiatric facility that’s under renovation. Does the address matter? Some of the buildings are unstable. That bastard is putting my child in harm’s way. I’m her mom. She would be a famous actress if he would let her live. There’s no number on this plastic hull of a land…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 