When I was a kid, my older brother was abducted. I think I just found out where he has been all these years.

We will say my name is Jamie and I’m thirty-two years old. My whole childhood I lived in the same rural town in Pennsylvania with my parents. I was the youngest of two boys, by two years, and for the most part had a nice childhood. I played nintendo with my brother, played in the creek nearby on weekends... Generally, I had the whole shbang. But, when I was nine, my brother went missing.

I ended up going to all the same schools as all my friends did, just as our parents did before us, all the way back to the 1800's. It wasn’t often that we had someone move in from the outside, but it did happen from time to time. A new kid would show up at school, and we all would criticize them until they were accepted, or not. Mostly they would fit in. Except for this one girl in fourth grade; just before Jake, my brother, vanished.

Her name was Josie Callow. Just about nine years old; she always wore pigtails tied off with white ribbons and wore this dress that I swear was from the fifties. The same clothes day in day out. When we all would show up in jeans and t shirts, she was the model student, with black shiny school shoes, and white tights.

Everyday, when we all would pile on to the playground before school, she would pull up in a old blue chevy van, with the slide door on the side. She would kiss who I assumed was her father goodbye, and then get out and run for the front door. He had his dark hair slicked back, and wore a dark suit jacket and tie. He always smiled and waved at me when he left, and every time it made me cringe. It made me feel like he hated me. My skin crawled every morning when I'd see him.

As soon as she was inside, he would speed off; leaving a trail of black smoke that only the really old junkers do.

She was weird, too. Josie never talked or sat with anyone, ever, and she never ate lunch. And upon further examination, you could see everything she wore was dingy, and dirty. Soiled, disheveled, and she even emitted a certain odor that none of us could place. I figured her dad was really poor, which was common in our area. Only a few families had real money there, and that even wasn’t anything to write home about. But she was different. Where we were poor, she was completely out of place. Everything about her was…off.

The other kids started calling her Smelly Josie at recess one day, and she started crying.

I really should have known better than to let someone make fun of a little girl. Yeah, I was little, but my family were devout Christians and took me to church every Sunday.

I knew better.

So, like a knight in shining armor, I finally went to her defense. Even against my own friends.

That was the day I became the black sheep. Because I did what I did, my buddies wrote me off, completely.

I became friends with Josie, and would eat lunch with her every day after that. I talked endlessly about everything I knew, but for some reason she really never said much. Just that she liked how I talked, and that she could listen to me for hours. The way she looked at me made me feel…special? I don’t know.

That went on for weeks, until she started coming to school with bruises on her arms and legs. At first, she just said she fell on her stairs, then the next week it was an accident out in the yard. Then, it was something else. None of it added up.

I tried to invite her over for dinner, and she was excited about it! But, when the day came, she backed out, saying that her father wouldn’t approve. We ended up arguing. I was saying that her dad could meet my family, and be friends with them. Horrified at the idea, she refused, saying that I didn’t know what I was saying. She ran home after that, and I didn’t follow.

I, too, sprinted back to my house from school that day. My heart was beating a million miles an hour, and my cheeks red from the winter dew. Mom was cooking in the kitchen, so I stormed in and got her attention. Frightened for my friend, I told Mom about Josie, and what I thought her dad was doing to her. She immediately picked up the phone and called the school. Asking for the principal, she was put on hold.

“What’s your friends name, sweetheart?” she asked me.

“Josie. Josie Callow.” I stated.

Before the hold music stopped to give way to the voice of the principal, she slowly hung up the phone. Mom turned to me with a serious look on her face and said,

“I don’t want you to ever talk to that girl again. She’s dangerous. I saw her and her father in town, and they are not the type of folk we should be associating with.” she said the last part really slow and quiet like a whisper. Her eyes went for the living room door, like she thought my dad would overhear. I didn’t know what to think.

“What if she is in danger?” I hollered, vehemently.

“Her affairs are none of our business. Tend to your own, Jamie.” and she turned away from me. It almost sounded like she was about to cry.

I tried to ask why she didn’t tell the school, but she shushed me and went back to cooking. That was the end of that, as they say.

A couple days later at recess, Josie and I were playing on the swings, which was our favorite thing to do on the playground, and she told me that her father had done something horrible. And, that he deserved to die. I asked her about it, and she said,

“It is his right. A part of his charge.” Her face was a mottled mixture of fear and pain when she finished. Then,

“I don’t want to go home, Jamie. Can I live with you, forever?”

Tears flowed in her eyes, and down her face, creating grey looking droplet marks on her off white dress. Josie hung her head in shame. Her loose strawberry blonde curls stuck to her cheeks, and made her look so innocent; as if she had a doll-like quality.

I was so scared for her. I knew then that I loved her. She was so heartbroken that all I could do was hug her.

When the bell rang, she looked at me as if she were going to die.

"Run away with me, Jamie! We can go anywhere you want!" she pleaded. She was truly terrified.

I tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't have it.

She disappeared after recess. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I never saw her again after that.

When I got home, my mom and dad were in the living room with the police. My brother didn’t come home from school; in fact, he never got on the morning bus that day. He went to the junior high across town, so he had a different bus than I did. Plus, he went earlier than me by a whole half hour, because of the distance. Mom always used to ask him if he wanted a ride to school, but he always insisted on meeting with his friends and hanging out before the bell rang. It was understandable. Jake was popular, and I probably would have wanted to do the same if I were in his shoes.

He was the kind of kid that you just couldn’t hate. Always smiling, always the joker.

It was that night that I heard my mother and father arguing. My room was down the hall, so I didn’t hear what they said, but my father stormed out of the house afterwards; leaving my mother crying on the front step.

We never found Jake, either. The police conducted a state wide search for him, but the trail went cold somewhere along the border. A gas station attendant reported seeing him at a Circle K after a commercial came on the television with Jakes face on it, just off of I-79 North. He was caught on video camera with a man and a young girl, about nine years of age, wearing a white dress. They bought gas, and snacks for the road, and were seen leaving the scene in a blue Chevy Econoline van. The faces were blurry, but we knew it was my brother because of the Dr. Pepper hoodie he was seen wearing that day.

Eye witnesses were brought in by the police and they got their sketch artists to whip up a drawing of the man seen with Jake. They were passed around my school, and when I finally saw it, my heart just about jumped out of my chest.

It was the same man; Josie’s father. With that same fucking smile he always had plastered across his face. And my friend. With my brother.

A month later, we had a funeral for Jake. Empty casket.

Mom and Dad divorced that spring. Mom and I stayed in town, and I ended up finishing out junior high, and high school. Dad moved to New York, where he joined a successful law firm and made it big. Unfortunately, our relationship declined from there, and to this day I haven't seen him in five years.

Never once did I meet a girl like Josie again, nor do I expect to in the future. There was just some form of connection with her that I cannot explain. I feel lost without her, even to this day. And my brother, who helped raise me; I can’t even put it into words. The whole thing changed my life, forever.

--

My mother and I rarely spoke of my brother. When ever I would bring it up, she would get quiet, or tell me that I had no right to speak. It frustrated me to no end, because in my opinion she could have done something about Josie's father when I told her about the bruises. Why didn’t she help her when she had the chance? Maybe, it would have saved my brother.

Mom and I fought about it a few times, and it always ended with her sobbing, and me stomping off to my room to blare music in my headphones. That went on until I moved out.

The day I left, she said something that haunts me to this day. We got to talking about Jacob again, and I should have known better than to start anything…

She just blurted it out.

“It was his right.” she stated. Her face mirrored Josie’s; that day she told me that her father deserved to die.

“What the hell, Mom? That is what Josie said the day she left school. Why did her father take Jake?” I was furious. She didn’t like my questioning, but she answered anyway.

“The man you know as Dad isn't your real father, Jamie. I left Timothy after I had you, and got together with your Dad. He was abusive, and violent. He beat me nearly to death on several occasions, and promised me that he’d have his way, eventually...

“I could never prove to the police that he was a bad egg. He has a way about him; this aura that manipulates and cajoles anyone who hears his voice. Truly, I don’t believe he is even a man at all. You understand, I had to run away. I had to have a peaceful place to raise my boys. It was the only way we would survive.

“So I traveled across the country and ended up here. Your Dad helped me out in the beginning, and as a result, we fell in love. I told him everything about the situation, and agreed to adopt you as his own. It was perfect. Until he came here looking for his children.” she said, and as she finished, she hugged me hard. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Are you telling me that Jake's abducter is my real father? Mom, where is Jake? Do you know?” I asked, breathing in her perfume as I stood there with my bags in hand at the door; face buried in her shoulder.

My whole life flashed before my eyes, right there in the doorway.

Like she didn’t hear me, she continued; her voice trembling the whole time,

“He’s a dark man, Jamie. I’m afraid he will come for you, too. You have to go away from here. I love you and couldn't bear losing you, too.”

And that was, as they say, that. I did as she told me. It was the last time I saw her.

That was why my Dad left that night. It’s why they divorced. He must have had enough.

It has been over twenty years since my brother was abducted. I now have two boys of my own, and fear every day for them. Anytime they have to leave for any reason, I remember how the dark man took my brother. So, as you would think, I am a bit of an over protective parent. I’ve never had my kids babysat by anyone else, and I screen everyone they have contact with, thoroughly. In fact, I rarely let them out of my sight.

Well, the other day, my eleven-year old son Thomas came home and said that he made a new friend at school. Excited and enthusiastic, he went on and on about how they played, and had so much fun. He was a transfer from another elementary some miles away from where we live in Tucson.

When he finally calmed down enough, I asked him, “What is your new friend's name, Tommy?”

“Jake Callow. Can he come over tomorrow, Dad?” he asked me.

I was absolutely dumbstruck. I think I sat there for a good two minutes before I responded to him.

“When I take you to school tomorrow, can you point him out to me?” I asked him, timidly.

“Yeah! He always wears the same old clothes, so you can spot him easy.” he was really excited.

I did not share in his exuberance.

“What do you mean? He doesn’t have more than one change of clothes?” I asked. I thought of Josie, and how she always wore the same disgusting dress.

“Yeah, he always wears the same old dirty Dr. Pepper sweater. I could give him one of my old ones, right Dad?” Tommy asked me.

--

So here I am, two o’clock in the morning, typing this out for you all. Tomorrow, I am going to meet with this kid, and see if this is the real deal or not. I can’t wrap my head around it, and maybe it is just wishful thinking…but I can’t help but wonder.