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Missing

Page 13

by Monty Marsden


  “The right hand… in the drawing… has five fingers.”

  “It’s possible that she forgot a finger when she drew the left hand, you’ve seen how child-like the drawings look, right?”

  “Don’t focus on… the details… look at… the whole content.”

  Of course, drawing four fingers may well have been just a coincidence.

  But Denise had been taken just like the other two victims.

  The place where this had happened was the epicentre of the young victims’ tragedy.

  It was an area very close to the monster’s hide-out.

  Elisa was with her, and ever since that day, her illness had worsened, as if she had seen something terrible and was running from it.

  The missing finger from the stick-figure’s left hand was the little finger. The signature of the predator.

  Claps explained everything to Trevis.

  “Denise… is the girl… in the drawing.” He concluded.

  The Professor remained thoughtful.

  “It’s the first drawing that Elisa has ever made,” he said, eventually. He spoke slowly and with a deep voice. “Her first, timid attempt to explore the world again. Maybe you’re right, she reproduced the last memory from her previous life, the life she had lived before the kidnapping.”

  “You have… to let Elisa… remember… you have to know… what she saw.”

  Claps stared straight into Trevis’ eyes in what he hoped was an assertive manner.

  The Professor stood up. “Come with me, Mr Claps. Let’s go for a walk.”

  They left the bar and walked along the beach beside the sea without saying anything else. The sun was shining occasionally through the grey clouds and had begun to radiate a pleasant warmth.

  “Look,” Trevis began to speak. “I know what you mean, but for me Elisa is primarily a patient before being a witness. My job… or rather, my duty is to cure her. Perhaps the only way to get her to come back to the real world is to let her forget what happened, to negate what happened and what she saw. She must be able to bury her memory, hide it somewhere deep in a corner of her mind.”

  Claps was walking with his head low, observing the pavement step by step.

  “I really want that monster to be in jail, don’t get me wrong, but all my efforts and all my attention has to focus on Elisa’s mental health. Even if she were able to recall some of her memories, it could be such a shock to her that she could fall forever into a chronic illness. She would be absent all her life. Remember that she’s in this state because of what she saw.”

  For the first time, Claps lifted his head. “But… remembering… could also… free her.”

  “It’s a remote possibility.”

  “Or it might… not… have any impact… on her condition… at all.”

  “We’re fantasising,” Trevis added. “The risk is too high to even attempt anything.”

  Claps looked down at his feet again.

  “The monster… killed… a lot of victims… we don’t know… how many… he began with… Denise… and he never… stopped.”

  This time, Trevis lowered his head.

  “He will… strike again… pretty soon… we have to… we must stop him… and save lives… we will prevent a lot of murders if… we stop him now.”

  Claps stopped, he stared into Trevis’ eyes.

  “We have no choice… there’s nothing more… worthwhile… than people’s lives.”

  Trevis attempted to say something, but then gave up the idea.

  “There’s only one… possibility… you should know that… You made one… many years ago as well… right?”

  The Professor felt a wave of heat creeping up his body to his head. It was a short while before he could reply. “You know my story, then…”

  “Don’t forget that… I’m an investigator… Your case… is well known… and when I was a student… in Milan… I attended… the Institute of… Psychology… the case was being discussed… then…”

  “Yeah, that’s understandable.”

  “Then everyone… stopped talking about you… and yet you were… one of the best lecturers…”

  “It was ages ago…”

  “I was surprised… to see you… here… in Follonica… everything began… right here… didn’t it?”

  “Yes, the first three of eleven victims. Some of my most valued people were among them.”

  “The murderer… one of your colleagues… from the Institute… a serial killer… the ‘Wolf’.”

  “That’s what we christened him.”

  “He killed… to see the soul…”

  “He was delirious, a foolish man. I was going to be his twelfth victim.”

  “You never stopped… hunting him down… you wanted to… stop him… right?”

  “I had to do it.”

  “You wanted… to save… other people’s lives…”

  Claps laid a hand on the Professor’s shoulder.

  “It’s not… so different now.”

  Trevis stared at the horizon for a long time. The island of Elba looked a mere step away.

  “Okay, Mr Claps, I’ll do my best to help you. I’ll try to make Elisa remember but I’ll do it my way. Don’t set any deadlines and stay away from managing my attempts. Promise me you’ll follow all of the possible avenues to catch the monster. Promise me that you’ll keep me informed and that if you decide to follow a promising path you’ll inform me about it… I want to have the chance to stop a final confrontation with Elisa if possible.”

  Claps nodded silently and stretched out his hand towards Trevis. They shook each other’s hands vigorously.

  There was nothing else to say – the Professor began to walk away. A few steps later, Claps called him. “You also… got stabbed… with a knife… just like… me.”

  Trevis showed him his wrists – the scars were still very visible.

  “I’ve never been so close to death. An old policeman saved me, Lieutenant Salvadori. He lives here. When I was discharged from the hospital, I thought I would go and pay him a visit to thank him, but then I decided to… I decided to stay here.”

  Trevis walked away. His mind was immersed in his memories of the past.

  *

  The tide flowed slowly into Follonica harbour, at the last light of dusk.

  A fisherman sat by the river, his back was hunched. He was staring patiently at his floating bait, he wanted to make sure that it remained in the current.

  A light breeze lifted the lingering scents of the fading day into the air.

  A man walked by, close to the river.

  “Tonight’s going to be a good one for sea bass.”

  Lieutenant Salvadori turned round. He didn’t smile back at Trevis, he didn’t need to.

  “Do you reckon? The sea has been flat for too many hours. It will be a good one to teach you how to fish, though. Take a seat, I’ll plant a rod for you.”1

  *

  Trevis had done his best.

  He had tried to get his old life back. His good old life. To be honest, he had only day dreamed about it. He dreamed of going back to Milan and taking up his old post as a lecturer at the Institute of Psychology.

  He had rested on this dream just like he had begun to rest on the grass, looking at the bait floating in the water.

  He hadn’t moved out of Follonica for five long months. He was waiting patiently, in the same way he waited for the fish to bite, for the wounds of his soul to heal.

  One evening in late October, under the light of the moon, he understood that he would never catch anything if he didn’t learn how to fish properly. In the same way, none of his wounds would heal if he just waited. In reality, he was like one of those worms that floated as bait, stabbed by the hook and too weak to wriggle away, passively suspended, waiting for anything to happen… perhaps even the end, which never arrived.

  At that moment he understood that catching fish wasn’t the final goal of fishing as a sport. He also understood that life is tough and that so
me wounds never heal completely.

  He took down the rod and dismantled it into smaller pieces with extreme care, then he freed the worms that had been used as bait into the stream.

  As he walked along the river bank, Trevis understood something else. He had no idea what to do with himself.

  The following morning he wrote a message to Lieutenant Salvadori and took the first train to Milan.

  He remained in the city for just a few weeks, he found a place to rent and didn’t let anybody know where he was. The Wolf hadn’t killed him, he hadn’t managed to fulfil his delusion and attempt to see Trevis’ soul… but somehow he had still stolen it. A life without a soul – that was what he had now.

  He decided to sell his house and moved over to Padova, where he had spent his youth and where he had graduated. Without trying too hard, he made some new friends and met some old acquaintances. He didn’t want human warmth – it was just an attempt to occupy some space in the community, establish some kind of connection with other people that he hadn’t had for a while.

  A few months later he got in touch with one of his old friends who now directed an ‘existentialist’ psychotherapy centre in Switzerland. Trevis surprised himself when he realized how open he was becoming with his old friend, it was the first time in a long while.

  “Your problem, my friend, is that your misfortunes have caused you to lose the ability to feel emotions – you can’t laugh when everybody else laughs, you don’t cheer for what everybody else cheers for, you don’t suffer for anything that would cause other people to suffer.”

  “It’s like I’ve lost my soul.”

  “The soul – a spiritual way to define what psychotherapists call the self. You must rebuild your own self. It’s the key to help you feel part of a community, with pain, joy, ambitions to be shared with others. In other words, you need to rebuild whatever allows you to connect with other people.”

  Trevis followed him to Switzerland and followed his therapy; five years later, it seemed natural for him to use psychoanalysis with his own patients and he quickly became well known and respected in the field. He had returned to Italy after three years when he began to seek a less frantic life style. He chose Follonica as a place to settle down and focus on a smaller number of patients. He began to fish again – after so many years of practice, he was able to catch the fish.

  Trevis stared at the water, the horizon. He had built a soul for himself again and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know what he had to do now. Yes, he would have to help Claps and protect Elisa at the same time.

  Protect…

  What he hadn’t managed to do for Denise. His beloved Denise.

  *

  The road to the foot of the hill from Massa Marittima was very steep, especially for Elaji, who was carrying the two bags Adebi had given him on his shoulders. He had decided to walk on the road maintaining a steady pace and concentrating on keeping his balance, he had to be careful not to slip or stumble in case he rolled downhill. Once the road levelled out again Elaji picked up his pace for the remaining two kilometres that separated him from the market place. He felt strong, even though he had spent the last few hours like a homeless man. The sunshine gave strength to his muscles and his powerful stride made his heart pump.

  Elaji had found Adebi – now he had to find a way to make him divulge whatever he knew.

  He had lied to him, he had betrayed his ngor, his honesty, and had done so with another African brother who had suffered and lived away from his own people. Just like Elaji, Adebi had spent many years in a country that wasn’t always friendly. That was not good for Elaji’s pride. Whoever had taken Ami away from him had replaced her presence with evil in his soul, and evil only causes more evil. And it corrupts.

  He found the market easily. There were lots of colourful stalls; many African people like him crowded the place around them. Mudiwa’s was among the first few stalls near the entrance, just as Abedi had described. The woman was sitting on the ground, a mat on which she displayed her goods before her. She was holding a baby girl who was nestled in her arms as though in a cradle, wrapped up in a long scarf tied to the woman’s neck. Djara was standing a few metres away from her, with her back turned to Elaji.

  He stopped. All of a sudden, he was struggling to breathe.

  Ami!

  For a moment, he believed that Ami was there. For an instant, a wave of vibrating, endless happiness had overtaken him – this emotion was incredibly strong; it stunned and confused him.

  It lasted only a moment.

  Then a penetrating, endless kind of pain hit him all of a sudden – harshly and violently.

  Ami wasn’t there any more, she wouldn’t come back. Maybe not even in his dreams.

  Djara turned round. Her facial traits weren’t similar to Ami’s. When she saw that tall, strong man, she smiled at him. He was looking at her with great joy and pain at the same time and she didn’t understand why.

  She had the same smile as Ami.

  Elaji’s eyes were full of sweet tears – Ami had smiled at him from the heavens.

  *

  After he left Trevis, Claps began to walk along the beach.

  He couldn’t just sit and hope that Trevis would manage to trigger Elisa’s memories – he had to move on, he had to find new evidence.

  Claps walked slowly, one heavy step after another.

  He had always wondered why Ami… but now the question that might lead him to find out more about the monster was another one: why Denise?

  Claps tried hard to think carefully.

  Denise was very different from all of the other victims. And the creature had been so hasty and careless – he had left Elisa behind, a witness.

  Everything was very different, it didn’t match the coherent patterns from the other cases.

  No, there were no doubts – Denise had been the first. With her, the beast had released his desire. The water had broken the dam and his sick fantasies had come true. Then he couldn’t help but carry on doing as he had done the first time – he had developed and perfected a method which allowed him to act without running any risks.

  The killer had an obsession – he didn’t want to challenge anyone, he didn’t want anybody to know of his criminal activities, he didn’t want to wrap himself in the soiled glory of infamy for his terrifying actions. He only wanted to enjoy the little body, he wanted to own everything, even the soul. He wanted to carry on doing that.

  Denise… The first one.

  Had he acted on the spur of the moment? Did he take advantage of an unexpected event and use it to follow his obscene instincts?

  Claps was unable to see it in his mind, the feeling of vertigo wasn’t there.

  Had he fantasised a lot before acting? Had he planned everything?

  Perhaps both suppositions were possible.

  The tyre marks on the dirt road seemed to indicate that something had been premeditated, there was some degree of planning. But then why had he let a witness go and run the risk of her talking? If he really had planned everything, assuming that the girls were apart from one another when Denise was kidnapped, how did he know that Denise was going to separate from her sister at some point?

  Maybe he had followed her only to look at her and to fantasise about her… then he was tempted by seeing her on her own and couldn’t resist.

  Claps walked more slowly, he looked at the sea on the horizon. The sunshine hurt his eyes.

  He was back to the main question – why Denise?

  He had to find an answer, but first – what is it like to become a monster? What triggers the switch from fantasising to putting ideas into action? What drives a man so mad? What feeds his insatiable appetite?

  Having the victim close to him, staying close to her for a long time, desiring her for ages, carrying on building fantasy after fantasy with her as the main focus… until, at some point, the border between fantasy and reality breaks down and disappears.

  That’s why he had chosen Denise. The creature
could still be there, near the house, near Elisa.

  *

  Claps sat down on a bench. The sun was now high and full. The sunshine blinded him but it didn’t matter – he would have to close his eyes to make the phone call.

  “Any news, Claps?”

  “I thought… about… something.”

  On the other end of the line, Sensi tightened his grip on the phone without realising.

  “Go on.”

  “It’s just… an idea.” Claps lied. “It’s too early… to say every… thing… but the most important thing… is that… everything indicates… Niccioleta… as the epicentre.”

  “Can you expand on that?”

  Claps didn’t want Elisa and Trevis’ work to be under the spotlight of investigation yet, not even if it was directed by Sensi. It was too dangerous for the young girl and for the Professor’s task. “I still… have to… verify… I will tell you later… any news on… the results of the… search on the… hospital?”

  Sensi didn’t sound satisfied with Claps’ reply, but answered politely and calmly.

  “We’ve requested information from all the staff and the patients who were at the hospital back then with no relevant results. I don’t think that Mr Beattie’s driving licence was stolen there.”

  “Listen… can we… do the search… again… with a different… variant?”

  “Change… the profile… of the suspected person… find out who… lived in… Niccioleta… or nearby… five years ago.”

  “Five years ago? Do we have to look for somebody who lived there?”

  Sensi took a little while to pull the strings together. “Oh, you mean that the Cellini case is related?”

  “There… could… be… a link.”

  “Is this your idea?”

  “It’s… only… an idea… can we pursue it?”

  “I don’t have any reason to say no.”

  “I have… something else… to ask you.”

  “Go on.”

  In a way, Ami had also been the first victim. She had been the first who had been caught away from the predator’s familiar area, the first that would have caused him to flee the police investigation. He had probably desired her for a long time and spied on her equally as long. Mr Beattie’s identity had to be stolen at the last minute – he must have been close to her with his real face first.

 

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