by Peter Fang
“Sunlight!” Gretchen suddenly said the word.
“What?” Maria was baffled by Gretchen’s sudden outcry.
“This room needs more sunlight. Why did you draw the curtains in the morning when there’s precious sunlight outside?”
Maria wasn’t sure why her house was rather dark and didn’t realize she had left the curtains drawn. “I think you are right. I’ll open it up.” Maria opened up the curtain, and light poured into the living room. “Anyway, I should take you downstairs to the garage to see the sewing machine.”
“Oh? Why not put it in here?”
Maria smiled sheepishly. “We had to clean it up a bit before giving it away. We just don’t have the space and time to take care of it.”
“Take care of it?” Gretchen smiled. “I like your thinking. You take care of a piece of furniture, and it will serve you in return. It’s good harmony.”
Gretchen continued to look around the house. She wanted to come in and have a better look at the environment. Joey was following her around the house like a guard. She finally turned around and said, “There is a lot of negative chi in this room. I can feel it. You need to balance it with positivity.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs. Quo.”
“Don't worry for now; just take me to your antique, please. By the way, it’s best to leave Joey here, if you don’t mind. I'm allergic to dogs, remember?”
They entered the garage. Mrs. Quo was following Maria closely behind. Now there was a good distance, and she was respecting a border outside her garage.
“What's the matter?” Maria turned to face her.
“No, nothing’s wrong. I am just taking my time because I am getting old.” Gretchen made an exaggerated sigh, but she was still reluctant to go into the garage.
Maria was puzzled. “You can come closer to take a look if you want. It's dark here, even with the overhead light. I keep forgetting to switch out the light bulb.”
Gretchen gingerly approached the sewing machine. She circled it and gave a good look around. She then covered her nose and bowed down as she examined the design. She spent a long time looking at the carvings on the wood, moving her hands across the iron frame and the wood grain.
Maria was familiar with Gretchen’s strange behavior, but there were new ones that she observed now and then. Today, Gretchen's behavior was extra unusual; it was like watching her following an ancient Chinese protocol.
“Why the elaborate ritual?” Maria was just too curious not to ask.
“Oh, I’m just paying respect to the old furniture.” Gretchen slowly stood up and smiled. “You are a Chinese, so you should know this. I will teach you one day.”
Instead of arguing, Maria nodded. “So, what do you think? Do you like it?”
“I don't know yet. I have seen many, many antiques, but I have never seen anything like this. This was custom-made by someone, not by a company. Do you know what is hidden inside the door here?” Gretchen pointed at the closed flap inside the cabinet.
“I believe it is a sewing machine. That was what the original owner told us, but we don't have the keys to open it yet. We tried to open it, but it's stuck.”
Gretchen shook her head. “This is not just a sewing machine. I think it is a cage to lock something up.”
“A cage? For what?” Maria walked up next to Gretchen.
“I was hoping you could tell me. But I can ask around. Who was the original owner? Where was he from?”
Maria told Gretchen the story of how she acquired the antique.
“I know some good friends in China; a few of them are dealers and historians. I'm sure I can dig up something.” Gretchen proceeded to take some pictures with her phone. She was very meticulous and took her time to document every angle of the sewing machine. When she was done, she stood up and smiled at Maria. “Sorry, my friends in China are very precise, so I like to send them pictures of the things I ask. I like to know what I'm buying before I buy it.”
“So, you are not buying it today?” Maria felt strangely relieved.
“Oh, not yet, but I will put down a deposit of half of your asking price. All I ask is if someone is interested in buying, please let me know first.” Without further ado, Gretchen took out a roll of cash and handed it over to Maria.
Maria was hesitant to take the money.
Gretchen laughed. “Don't worry, just take it. You and I are like family. If you need the cash for yourself, just use it. Take your time to give it back to me, no hurry.”
“But I don't need the cash now.” Maria wanted to give back the cash.
“Nonsense! I see how you spend money on your boyfriend, Ansen. Why are you still going out with him? You need to find a real man, like a doctor, a lawyer, not some kind of business man that doesn’t produce anything. Most importantly, don't be fooled by a pretty face, because they are not reliable. Looks won’t matter in thirty years; it's the heart that counts.” Gretchen looked up at Maria, held her hand, and tears started to well up in her eyes. “You remind me of my daughter Jennifer every time I see you…sorry, I spoke too much.”
Maria was well aware of Gretchen's life story. Her daughter, Jennifer, had committed suicide at the tender age of twenty-two after she broke up with her boyfriend. Maria had never met Jennifer, but somehow she felt she knew her based on Gretchen's description from the many stories she shared.
Gretchen held tightly on to Maria's hand as she wiped away her tears. After a few minutes of silence, she finally let go of her. “I must go now, but you promise me to take good care of yourself, okay? You don't look very healthy today; too much negative energy in you. Get more sunshine.” She took a jade bracelet off of her wrist and gave it to Maria. “Take this—I insist. This jade has protected me for a long, long time. I think you will need it now. I will let you know what I learn of this antique, and don't let Joey near it. He will chew the wooden frame apart, and then it will be worthless.”
She kissed Maria on her cheek and left the garage.
Maria inspected the green jade bracelet in her hand and didn't know what to think of it. She knew that there was no fighting against Gretchen’s will. If she wanted to give you something, it was wise to accept it. She tried the jade on her wrist, and it was just a little bit tight, but it fit. She decided to wear it for the day to help boost her energy, as the superstition prescribed. She looked back at the antique, and for a moment, she felt a tinge of a shiver down her back. She crossed her arms absently, trying to keep herself warm.
Five feet away, a small rosette of needle-like claws extended out of the keyhole. They were tapping against the iron cast frame at a very high frequency. Soon, thin threads of transparent spider silk spun out of the tip of the nails and floated towards Maria. The ethereal threads floated to her nostrils and entered her nose as Maria breathed in. Once in her body, the threads congealed into a worm. It was looking for something. It moved quickly through the lungs and into her body cavity. It climbed up the cavity wall, moving methodically towards her spine. Finally, it found the receptor. It had tendrils extending out, waving, searching. The worm moved towards the receptor and allowed the tendrils to hook it in. The white of receptors turned to pink, and the tendrils retracted. Something was starting to grow inside.
Maria felt something tickling inside her mouth, like a large tonsil stone. She hacked, and it dissolved right away. She wiped her mouth and looked up; there was a woman standing behind the sewing machine; it was only a brief second, and then she disappeared.
17
The Unraveling
A school bus driver, a construction foreman, and—god forbid—a mailman. Of all of the jobs Koda Xi had held in his life, he loved being an FBI detective the most. But ever since the tragedy, things had spiraled down into an abyss. Staying home or going to crowded place only made matters worse. He could still hear their voices sometimes. Sometimes he swore he could still see his little boy’s silhouette in the mall, walking down the aisle. Sometimes he would be with the mother, Joanne. His son and h
is wife were now gone; killed by a hit-and-run driver. The worst part was that they never caught the driver. At this point, Koda forgot why he joined the force in the first place.
He woke up every day feeling exhausted—it had been over a year now—but he still saw both of them in his dreams. Sometimes as early as 3 a.m. He would wake up and go to the bathroom to check on his face. His receding hair and round jawline seemed to be more pronounced every time he looked himself in the mirror. Even though he was barely breaking forty, his eyes were starting to sag; his gray hair and beard stubble was a constant reminder that his best days were over. He wandered around his small apartment aimlessly for hours, watched TV, and then he would go back to sleep. Exercise only helped a little, but then the familiar depression set in inevitably. Today was no different than any other day, except someone from the station left him a note that the Chief wanted to see him. Koda’s gut told him that a dirty job was coming his way. He stared at the sticky note in front of his computer hoping time would stop. Going into the Chief’s office was never a fun experience. The guy was a grade-A asshole, and he wore it like an honor badge. The rumor was that for unknown reasons, he had delayed his retirement for a year, and that put him in an even worse mood. A honey badger’s sticker on the left corner of his computer monitor was staring back at him. Honey Badger, his nickname in the precinct––honey badger doesn’t give a fuck, honey badger never gives up. It used to be a joke, but now Koda held on to it like his life depended on it. He would never give up until he found the driver that killed his boy.
Koda opened his drawer, pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker Red, and poured himself a shot. He gulped it down in one swig and let the sting wake him. He finally stood up and took a deep breath, then ventured out of his small cubicle.
Mason Bowman, one of several Assistant Special Agents in Charge (ASIC) for the FBI’s Seattle office, was a large-framed man. His dark, olive skin made his piercing eyes stand out. His office was a jungle of paperwork and stacked books. It was a miracle that he could find anything. Once a month, he would get the office cleaner to go into this office and clean out anything that was not in two moving boxes. The day after the office purge was usually his best-mood day. Today was not one of those days. Koda could feel the tension oozing from his office even before he set his foot inside. The door squeaked as loudly as usual when he entered. Bowman’s large frame remained seated, but he signaled Koda with a stare behind his desk; his eyes tracked him until he sat down in the hard wooden chair.
“Glad to see you back, Koda. How long have you been back? I was surprised you were back so early.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t stay away anymore.” Koda would rather just get out of this stinky room and be on his way, but he was intrigued about the assignment, even if it was going to be a menial job––anything to keep his mind occupied.
“Good, keeping busy is the best medicine for whatever the fuck life throws at you; that is why I am still here. Now, I’ve got a job for you.”
“I’m still on that Jefferson case—”
Mason raised a hand to stop Koda mid-sentence. “I know, but this one is more important, and personal. I already told Scott to take over the Jefferson case. I don’t want any distractions while you work on this one.”
“What is it?” Koda felt a twinge in his stomach.
The chief reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two shot glasses. He always did that when he was going to give someone an assignment that was going against their grain. He sat the two glasses on the desk and poured three-fingers’ worth of spirits in each. Mason helped himself to one and took a sip. He squinted his eyes as the aroma swirled inside his mouth before he swallowed it down.
“So this is an eighteen-year-old bourbon type of job?” Koda recognized the bottle to be the Elijah premium bourbon. Everyone in the precinct knew that this bourbon was saved for special occasions. Privately, Koda preferred whiskey, but he was not about to turn down a premium bourbon.
Mason smirked. “My friend in the crime investigation unit gave me a tip this week. He said that some campers recently discovered a grave site in the mountain off of one of the Olympic National Park trails. A creek recently flooded from a rainstorm and washed away the top soil near a mountain pass. There was a mudslide that blocked the pass. The road crews discovered the grave site from the mudslide. The coroner’s report showed that all of the bones were stripped clean. There was a total of six bodies. Each body was prepared exactly the same––no teeth, no organs. All showed signs of trauma. Some of the bones show signs of Osteoporosis and bone infections, which suggests extensive drug use. When they combed through the place they found two items––a partial molar and ring with the custom initials “J.B.” We cross-checked the molar with missing persons database and matched with a runaway teen by the name of June Bowman. Other bones we found appeared to have been buried there around the same time. I need you to tie up some loose ends with this lead and see what you can dig up.” The chief almost chuckled at his own pun, but he wiped his smile away.
“June Bowman?” Koda noticed the same last name as Mason’s.
Mason smiled. “You don’t miss a thing. Yes, this runaway was a distant cousin of mine. She was sixteen at the time of disappearance, back in 1979. I really didn’t know her, but I still want to keep this under wraps and not turn it into a circus. Those hungry reporters are always lookin’ for ways to push a story. We are not even sure if this ring really belonged to June, but I still need to take care of this for our family.”
Koda was a bit surprised at how impersonal Mason was handling this.
“Chief, if this is your relative, don’t you want to take care of this yourself? Why me?”
Mason finally leaned forward and replied, “Look, I have my reasons, but I’m not at liberty to share. June’s parents are still alive and live in the Clyde Hill neighborhood, so I’m asking you as a favor to visit June’s family. This assignment is good for you, Koda. You need to get out and get some fresh air and take the edge off of your mind.”
Koda finally realized why this was an eighteen-year-old bourbon type of job. “Sure, I got this.”
Hoping to avoid what Mason was going to say, Koda gave in just to cut short of the visit. Up until that moment, Koda did not pick up the shot glass. He finally reached over and swallowed the shot. His mind wandered as the smooth bourbon burned straight down to his stomach. Good shit! At least Mason didn’t go cheap on me for the drink.
Mason noticed Koda’s look. He chuckled and asked, “Want another shot?”
There was a slight hesitation from Koda but he returned the shot glass on the table. The glass spun on the table precariously near the edge; then it swirled back and knocked the other shot glass until it wobbled to a stop.
“Working on edge is my specialty.” Koda snickered.
Koda believed it was karma that this type of case inevitably finds its way to him. Everyone said he had a good nose for cold cases. But so are flies attracted to shit. He thought.
Not liking the stillness in the room, Mason finally clapped his hands. “Good! Check your email for more info. I got some of the lab guys to give you a head start. They’ve already collected a bunch of material for you from the database. Just go down there and ask for the case report. Oh, by the way, if you find something interesting, make sure you get a copy of the stuff you need. I like to review the report personally before it gets out to the public.
“You don't want to come with me to the lab?” Koda stood up and straightened his shirt.
“Get out of here! What am I? Your partner?”
Koda noticed that Mason did not get up from his seat––he only stood up after a meeting if he felt the case was important.
“Goddamn social visit.” Koda spat under his breath.
The address he got for the runaway was in Bellevue’s Clyde Hill neighborhood––a very well-off neighborhood with a spectacular view of Lake Washington. As Koda's Ford pickup slowly rolled down the avenue, Koda wondered w
hat the story was behind this runaway June Bowman. Her mother broke down over the phone even though Koda did not reveal much information over the phone. Koda had been in the homicide business long enough to learn not to project too much of his personal impressions on the investigation that might influence his judgment; instead, let the facts tell the story. The smallest clues could sometimes unravel even the most intractable cold case. If you let your personal opinion get in the way, you might miss the key to the mystery. But Koda still couldn't help himself. He had seen it so many times. Spoiled brats who didn't get along with their well-meaning but clueless parents and decided that they could survive on their own. Sometimes, though, the truth could be deceiving. Koda wondered if he could sense the truth in the first ten minutes of his conversation with June’s mother. He had already run a quick background check against the parents and it came up clean. The father was a partner of a law firm, while the mother was a homemaker. They had another son, and he turned out okay.
As the car pulled into the community, he was greeted by a friendly guard at the gate. After receiving Koda's basic information and checking the guest list, he opened the gate and let him through. This was not a place where Koda felt comfortable, his twenty years of experience in the department notwithstanding. It reminded him of how out-of-place he was growing up in different social contexts. He felt naked and vulnerable, and there was an almost paranoid feeling that the residents were laughing at him from their fancy, floral window seats—whispering to each other about how inept his presence was in this elite community. He felt like a drop of ink in an early morning spring water. His drive through was enough to contaminate the serene environment, and everyone must have been alerted of his presence.
Finally, Koda pulled up to a large colonial mansion on the corner of the street. The lawns were meticulously groomed and fluffed with lush green grass. He stopped his car on the curb, turned the engine off, and let the silence around him sink in. It was nearly 5:30 in the afternoon, and there were many joggers and dog walkers who passed by and threw guarded glares at his dirty pickup.