“You’re sure?” Dustin asks. “We didn’t find anything.”
Grandma shrugs and her boa slips off her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure. All the stories said Claire Dawson, but I think her middle name was Margaret.” Grandma looks out the window. “There’s Mrs. Mott pulling in. Ask her. She probably remembers.”
All three of us stare at the door as Mrs. Mott comes in dressed as a flapper. Her beaded maroon dress coordinates well with her light purple pouf of hair. The beads on her headband dance across her wrinkled forehead.
She stops short in the doorway when she sees us all staring. “What?” she asks. Do I have a run in my pantyhose?” she looks at her legs.
“Pauline, do you remember the girl that disappeared from Toledo several years ago?”
“Which one?”
“Has there been more than one?” Dustin asks.
“Heavens, children go missing around here a lot. Well not from River Bend, but you know, Toledo, Fort Wayne, Lansing. You should know better than I do about it.”
“This one was blonde about six. Claire something?” Grandma prompts.
“Oh, Claire Margaret Dawson. I remember her. She had the most adorable freckles. They never found her body as I recall.”
I give a little jump and clap my hands. Earlier I acted like a child, I might as well keep it up. “That has to be her. That has to be Addlynn.”
“You people,” Mrs. Mott shakes her head, making the beaded head band dance. “Barrage me with questions without a howdy-do and you don’t even comment on my costume. I look pretty good for an old girl, don’t I?”
“You look wonderful, Mrs. Mott. Thank you,” I kiss her on the cheek, surprising us both with the act of affection.
“And look at this little cutie,” she says about Walker. “So handsome.”
As Alexis easily hands Walker over to Mrs. Mott, I look away and push down the stab of jealousy.
With an actual lead, Dustin is anxious to leave. “Alexis, you ready?”
She seems confused for a moment, but hurries to gather the baby bag, and buckle Walker into his car seat.
“You’re leaving?” Grandma asks with a note of sadness.
“I’m going to look into this Claire Margaret Dawson lead. Plus, Alexis is taking Walker around the neighborhood.”
Alexis looks put out that Dustin wasn’t coming to trick or treat with them. She quickly schools her face into a blank expression.
“What about the cult? If Addlynn was kidnapped and taken there, then there must really be others like I saw.”
“We don’t have proof of a cult, except for….”
“You still don’t believe me? You’re literally following a lead that came from a vision right now.”
Dustin won’t meet my eyes. Whatever connection I felt with my brother a moment ago vanishes.
“Can I at least visit her again? I might see something useful about where the cult is.”
“Ready, Alexis?”
“Dustin, please. Addlynn and Nolan have matching scars. Probably from the horrible ritual I saw. Let me help.”
“What scars? I didn’t hear anything about scars.” Mrs. Mott cuts in.
“They have round scars on their palms from a ritual burning with a candle. I saw it happen to Addlynn,” I tell her. “Does a round scar on the palm mean anything to you, or you, Grandma?” I hear the desperation in my voice.
“I had a customer once who had a similar scar on his palm. He said it was from a burn, but didn’t elaborate and I never asked.”
Dustin perks up, “Who was he?”
“Let me think.” We watch as Grandma scrunches her show girl made up face. “It was a few years ago, so many people come here,” she muses. She closes her eyes in a way I’ve done myself. Grandma has a touch of my gift, and I know she’s opening her mind to the universe for an answer. “Mac Plamento, that’s who it was.”
“I don’t understand how that man keeps his store open, it’s so far on the edge of town. He must be doing well, though. Have you seen the new Escalade he’s driving?” Mrs. Mott muses.
“The same Mac Plamento who owns the Mac Mart where Nolan was murdered last night?” Dustin asks.
Grandma nods and the room falls silent. Jet whines from his bed, nervous from the heavy mood.
“He turned Nolan in, told the cult where to find him,” I say what we’re all thinking. “Go get him, Dustin. Arrest him.”
“I can’t arrest him for having a matching scar. I can take him in for some more questions, though.”
“Can I sit in on the questioning? I might be able to get something off him.”
“You can either stay here or go home, but you aren’t getting involved.” Hard, firm, his best police officer voice.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I snap without thinking.
“I can tell you what not to do.” Alexis clears her throat. Dustin rolls his eyes at her. “I’m asking you to stay here or go home.”
The asking still sounds like an order. “I’ll just call Lucas.”
Dustin goes stiff, his face turns red. “Well, asking didn’t work,” he says to Alexis. “You will not call Lucas and go behind my back again.” His eyes burn with an intensity I’ve rarely seen. I imagine he uses that look during interrogations and gets good results. I’m not a guilty suspect and I’m not afraid of him.
“I will do what I need to. There are killers and kidnappers out there and girls in trouble. If pissing you off means I can help them, I will. Why don’t you believe in me like Lucas does?”
“Lucas believing in you got him in trouble. I already got my butt chewed from Captain Simmons today for letting you be involved in the first place. Lucas got a similar and probably worse meeting with the Captain.” The words fall out of him faster and faster. “You want to help, but you get us in trouble. Lucas, me, the whole department. We all look bad. That news story put this whole investigation into jeopardy. Calling you might have gotten Nolan killed.”
“Dustin, stop it.” Grandma snaps. “Gabby did not get that young man killed.”
“And I didn’t tell Lacey anything. It was your own man who did it,” I point out. I’m breathing hard with hurt and anger.
Dustin blows air and runs his hands through his hair, exasperated.
Alexis pipes in. “What Dustin is trying to say, Gabby, is your actions reflect badly on all of us. This case already has the best detectives on it, let them do their job and stop interfering.”
I glare at my brother’s wife. Early in their relationship, I’d hoped we’d be close, like sisters. She’d never given me an opportunity for that kind of relationship, or any relationship. Until now, I’d had the impression she was quietly on my side, just blocked by Dustin. I was wrong. Her words sting more than I thought they would.
“My actions reflect badly?” I practically whisper. I’m raw, hurting, defensive. “Go home, Alexis. Take your perfect baby and your perfect husband and go back to your perfect life. I don’t want to taint you with my presence.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing them. “Grandma, will you take me home on your way to your party?” I ask as I leave the room to get my stuff.
Chapter 20
Gabby
It’s not until I get to my old room that I realize I don’t have any things to gather up to go home. I’m wearing Grandma’s clothes and an old pair of gloves. My phone is in the pocket of Grandma’s sweat pants. I have nothing else.
I sink onto my bed and wait for Dustin and Alexis to leave.
Misery and loneliness sit with me. Even Jet didn’t follow me.
I wipe tears of shame off my face with the hem of Grandma’s t-shirt, and wait.
Dustin’s car eventually leaves. I can only imagine the lecture they received before Grandma let them go. The childish part of me is glad Dustin got in trouble. The larger, grown woman part of me takes no joy in it.
“Gabriella? Do you still want a ride home?” Grandma calls up the stairs. “You c
an stay here again tonight if you’d rather.”
I scrub my face with the t-shirt again and call back, “Coming.”
I force my face to smile and my tone to tease, and pretend the last hour didn’t happen. “You guys look great. Is there a contest for best costume at this party?”
Grandma wants to ask questions, but thinks better of it. “I’m not sure. Which one of us will win if there is?” She forces her voice to happy as well. We’ve gotten good at playing this game over the years.
I examine both the women. “Probably a tie.”
Mrs. Mott joins the charade. “Tie? I’ll win for sure.” Her laugh sounds almost natural.
I sit in the back of Mrs. Mott’s car and the women chatter about people I don’t know. I tune them out and look out the window. Children in costumes fill the streets. I yearn to be one of them again, to be young and home with my family. To go back to the time when I had a family and a life and love.
Mrs. Mott turns down my street and, in the distance, toilet paper hangs from trees, blows in long strands across the street.
“Someone got t-p’d.” Grandma Dot says.
My stomach sinks. Halloween is a favorite night for the teenagers to target the town witch. I’m sure it’s my house.
Mrs. Mott and Grandma are surprised to see the toilet paper covering my trees.
“Oh, no, Gabriella,” Grandma exclaims as we park in my drive.
“Happens every year, don’t worry about it.”
“Your garage,” Mrs. Mott says. Brown streaks, that I can only hope are mud, run down the door.
I shrug it off. “Not the first time,” I say. “Sorry you had to see it.” I burn with shame. I’ve tried to protect Grandma from the vandalism that has become commonplace to me. I don’t want to upset her. Having her see first-hand what locals think of me cuts.
“Gabriella, call Dustin, report this.”
“I will not be calling Dustin, or anyone else, ever again.” I state firmly. “Tomorrow I’ll clean it up.”
“But….”
“Now stop worrying about me,” I say lightly. “You two go have fun. I don’t want to mess up your party.”
I lean over the front seat and kiss them both on the cheek. “Now go. There’s handsome men dressed as pirates and vampires waiting for you.”
As I hoped, this brings half-hearted laughs.
“Be careful,” Grandma can’t help adding.
“Always am,” I say and escape the car.
Toilet paper flies overhead in eerie white streaks in the darkness. Costumed children go door to door. No one ever comes to my door. A ninja and a transformer go to Preston’s door for candy. He sees me standing in my driveway as he hands candy to the children. He gives me a small wave and motions for me to come over.
I just want to go home, hug Chester and mope. “Give me a bit,” I call in answer.
He smiles his charming smile and closes the door.
I avoid looking at the soiled garage and climb the three steps to my front door. I don’t have my purse. It’s still in my car held as evidence.
No keys.
“Crap on a cracker,” I mumble. I stand on the step, shivering without a jacket or shoes. Grandma has a spare key, but I’m not going to further ruin her evening of fun.
Distracted with the toilet paper and mess on my garage, I didn’t realize my lights are on inside until now. “Did I leave those on when I left last night?” I ask the air.
I try the door knob and it turns. The door swings open. “Must not have locked up either.” I try to remember last night before I left. It is a blur of hurry. I shrug and step inside out of the cold.
Something feels off. My tattoo tingles, so lightly I convince myself I’m imagining things. I lock and chain the door behind me, and turn off the living room light.
Wavering light dances across the room, spilling in from the kitchen. Curious, I look.
A single candle sits on my kitchen table.
The flame dances and sputters in the wax pooled at the base of the wick. More wax drips down the sides of the candle. I stare at the light, confused. Another trick from a teenage vandal?
The candle looks familiar but I know it’s not mine. Whoever put it here brought it with them. The dancing flame creeps me out and I turn on the kitchen light.
I blow the candle out, careful not to blow wax all over the place. A trail of dark smoke rises, and I remember where I’ve seen this candle before.
It’s the same kind they used on Addlynn.
I jump away from it as if it would burn my palm all on its own.
On the table is a plain white card. It reads, “Join us.”
The house is so quiet around me, I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears.
Too quiet.
“Chester?” I call out for my cat. He always meets me at the door, always greets me. He’s not here now.
Panic floods. “Chester?”
I search the house for my cat, my friend. The search doesn’t take long, my house is so small.
I find him on my bed, curled up like he’s sleeping. “Please be sleeping, please be sleeping.”
He’s limp and heavy as I pick him up. Warm, not cold. “Chester? Oh, God, please let him be okay,” I beg.
Chester makes a sound of protest as I turn him over in my hands.
He’s alive. But my hand comes away with blood on it.
I search him for injuries and find several small cuts on his front feet. Thankfully, they seem superficial. Painful, but not threatening.
“You tried to fight them, didn’t you?” I ask the cat. “They cut you.”
I cradle him against my chest, thankful beyond measure he’s okay. The cuts on his paws will heal in a few days. The cuts on my soul will take a while longer.
Fury courses through me. These people were in my house. They hurt Chester.
My fury has no outlet. I don’t know who did this or where to find them.
I clean Chester’s cuts in the kitchen sink, then return him to my bed to sleep and heal alone. I throw the candle and note in the trash with a crash. Then think better of it, and wrap them in a plastic bag. There could be fingerprints or something helpful.
The wrapped candle sits on my kitchen table, and I sit and stare at it. What should I do now? I don’t want to call the police and don’t know who else to call about the break in. If I hear “we don’t have anything to go on” one more time, I might actually lose my mind.
Jumping up, I grab the bag and shove it into a cabinet. I slam the door with a satisfying clash.
Anger and frustration course through me, and I slam the door one more time. It bounces open again and I hit it hard. This time it stays shut.
I want to do more than slam cabinet doors. I want to hurt someone.
There’s no one to hurt, except some mysterious “they” and I have no idea where to find them.
I sit on my couch and concentrate. I close my eyes, open my mind to the universe. I touch my tattoo, hoping it will guide me. “Where are they?” I ask the room.
Listening with my mind, I wait for a direction, a place to look. Anything.
My mind finds nothing.
My tattoo says nothing.
I shove my face into the blanket on the couch and scream in frustration.
Feeling a little better, I check on Chester on my bed. He looks up as I enter.
“Who did this to you?”
He licks his wounds in response. I lie next to him and gently rub his fur. He ignores me and continues to lick. I stare at the wall, my mind whirling.
My phone rings, and I snatch it, grateful for the diversion.
It’s Haley.
“Missed you at work,” she says. “That place is really starting to suck.”
“Not sorry I missed it,” I grumble. I’m not in the mood for a chat about work. Besides Haley rarely ever calls me. We’re more the occasional text type of friends.
“I hope you won’t be mad, but I was thinking about this Addlynn thing you’re
involved in and I got curious.”
She has my attention now. “Okay?”
“Before I stopped going, I was a computer science major in college. I dreamed of being one of those hackers on TV, you know?” she starts.
“Uh-huh.”
She seems embarrassed and hurries on. “I wasn’t really that good, at least not the TV kind of good.”
“Haley, I’m sorry, but I’ve had a really crappy day. Where are you going with this story?”
“I’m not TV good at hacking, but I know my way around computers and the internet.”
I rub my face, impatient, “And?”
“I think I found your cult.”
Frozen with shock, I manage to choke out, “What do you mean?”
“I dug around and I found a place that matches what you described and isn’t that far away.”
I jump off the bed and start changing clothes. “You have an address?” My voice shakes with excitement.
“I do.” She sounds so proud of herself, so excited to help.
“Haley, you’re amazing. Where is it?” She reads me the address and I scribble it on a scrap of paper.
“What are you going to do with it? Tell Lucas or your brother?”
“Forget them. They won’t listen anyway. I’m going.”
“Going? To the cult?” Her voice has risen so high, I choose this moment to pull the phone away from my ear and slip a sweatshirt over my head. I miss a few words, but catch “Are you crazy?”
“That’s what they tell me.” I shove my feet into running shoes. “I won’t do anything, I just want to go check it out.”
Haley isn’t convinced. “You won’t go in or anything, right?”
“Not sure what I’ll do. I’ll figure it out once I see what I’m dealing with.”
“I only wanted you to tell someone, not to go there yourself,” she’s starting to whine.
“I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing. They hurt Chester.”
“Who’s Chester?”
“Never mind.” I dig a heavy jacket out of my closet and shove my arms into it. “I’ve got to go. Thank you for your help, Haley. Really.”
“If you get hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Message in the Fire Page 12