Mind Games

by Moore, TJ

  When Sarah went back outside, Cameron closed the patio door and called Amy’s cell phone.

  “Wait,” Amy said. “You cleaned up the mess? How am I supposed to figure out who took her?”

  “I couldn’t risk Sarah finding out.”

  “Well, Cam, she’s going to find out eventually.”

  “I don’t want her to worry. How would she sleep?”

  “Jen is now number forty-one, Cameron.”

  “Forty-one what?”

  “There have been forty-one missing person cases in the last two years. And all of those cases are still open.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve seen the stack of piles on your desk. I thought you gave up on of those.” Cameron felt his stomach drop and churn. He tasted acid in the back of his throat. “Amy, I know one of the other people that went missing. Her name is Melanie Garcia. She lived in our neighborhood. A Spanish teacher.”

  Amy paused. “She doesn’t ring a bell, but there’s been so many now...how long ago was Melanie taken?”

  “Must have been a few months ago now. I remember seeing her face on the front page of the paper. And, the whole neighborhood was talking about it.”

  “Did you know her well?”

  “Not really. I mean, we had a block cookout one night and I saw her there. Didn’t really talk to her much. She was chasing around two little boys. Twins.”

  “Was Melanie working at a school?”

  “Yes. She taught Spanish at the high school, but I haven’t heard anything since she was taken. Amy, why is this happening?” Cameron set the phone on the table for a moment and leaned over it, cracking his neck, trying to control his frustration. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, Cameron. Listen, I’m going to do everything I can to help you find her.”

  Pressing the phone hard against his ear, Cameron paced in the living room, watching the girls through he sliding glass door as they sat around the fire. His voice was unsteady. “Amy I’m scared…I’m scared they’re going to take Sarah next.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She was helping Jen at work. At the bank. It had something to do with the vault…some sort of eye scan system that Jen added an extra security procedure.”

  “Really?” Amy said. “Sounds risky.”

  “I know. I know. I fought with her about it and tried to stop her, but she made up her mind.”

  “Cam, I’m sure you could have found a way to change her mind.”

  “This is Jen we’re talking about. And the thing is…if someone took Jen, it’s only a matter of time before they figure out they need Sarah too...if they want to open the vault.”

  Amy sighed. “God, Cam. Okay, don’t panic. We’re not going to let them take Sarah. I promise. Is there somewhere you can take her? Some where she’ll be safe for now?”

  Cameron stopped pacing and thought through his list of relatives.

  “Yes, her Aunt Beth. I could take her there.”

  The patio fire died down, and Sarah’s friends left one by one as their parents came for them, leaving Cameron alone with his daughter. Before they went to bed, Cameron checked the alarms on the doors and windows and punched in the lockdown code in the digital panel.

  All the money they’d spent on the system and Jen had still been taken. At least the system was there now to protect Sarah.

  Cameron told Sarah he wanted her to sleep in their master bedroom. Sarah ran to her bedroom to get her pillow, then jumped into her parents King-sized bed. Cameron rolled a sleeping bag onto the floor and asked Sarah about her party. She began to excitedly thank him for letting her friends come over, but her words drifted into exhaustion, and she collapsed into the sheets. He locked the bedroom door, turned off the lights and pretended to fall asleep as well.

  But he could only lie there, numb with worry.

  The next morning, Cameron explained to Sarah that he and Jen were going to spend the weekend at a bed and breakfast and that he was going to pick her up from the bank on his way back into the city. But first, he told her he was going to drop her off at Aunt Beth’s place.

  Sarah gave her father a big hug when he explained it was just for a few days. Cameron assumed it wouldn’t take the abductors very long to learn about Sarah’s involvement with the vault security. If Sarah had been left at home, Cameron’s fears of her potential abduction would have been unbearable. It was better to lie and guarantee her safety.

  He drove her about fifty miles south of San Francisco to Aunt Beth’s home. With its barn and old silo, the property looked more like it belonged in the Midwest. Cameron greeted Aunt Beth in the driveway. As Sarah ran up to the house, Cameron pulled Beth aside and told her to never let Sarah out of her sight.

  As he drove away from Beth’s country home, he admired how the sunlight blasted through the trees in strong golden rays. It was as if they were reaching out to him through the tree line, through the car window, just reaching. The only barrier between Cameron and the light was the thin windshield.

  The arguments with Jennifer two weeks ago seemed much more important now. If only he’d prevented her proposal, keeping both her and Sarah out of danger, but it was too late. The abductors may have taken her anyway, regardless of the security plans.

  Cameron couldn’t afford to think about what could have happened. Instead, he needed to focus on what actually happened. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. He just wanted his wife home. As he drove, her absence instilled emptiness in Cameron. The blank space was growing in him again like an infection; but now it was mixed up with grief.

  When Cameron was only thirty miles from the city, he suddenly saw a man waving in the distance, standing near a parked car on the shoulder of the road. Still in a mild state of shock, the last thing Cameron wanted to do was talk to a stranger. He decided to keep driving.

  But as he drove closer to the man, he saw his own desperation reflected in the man.

  Against his better judgment, Cameron stepped on the brakes and pulled over to the shoulder of the road, cautiously rolling down his window.

  Sporting navy overalls, the stranger lowered his hands and smiled a rotten-toothed grin. “I’m not an axe-murderer or nothing…I’m just looking for a little help with my vehicle.”

  Cameron clutched the steering wheel. “What kind of help? What happened?”

  “I have a flat tire. I think someone threw a beer bottle out here or something, and it was just enough to puncture through. Busted it up pretty bad. Could you help a brother out?”

  Cameron parked his vehicle in front of the stranger’s car and walked around to meet the pear-shaped man.

  “My name’s Dan. I really appreciate you stopping for a moment. You’re a regular Good Samaritan.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Cameron followed Dan around to the back of his car, and Dan opened the trunk – it was filled with red and blue fireworks.

  “Don’t give me that look, I sell these just down the road.” Dan laughed.

  They removed the car jack and spare tire from Dan’s trunk as they talked. Cameron began to jack up the car and unscrew the flat tire with the wrench. He wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible to reconnect with Amy.

  “Usually, my son rides along with me,” Dan said.

  “Your son?”

  “Yeah. Max. But he disappeared two years ago.”

  Cameron stopped pumping the car jack, leaving the car inches from the ground. “He disappeared? A kidnapping?”

  “I’m not sure what happened. He was sixteen years old when he…vanished.” Dan put his thumbs through the straps in his overalls. I’ll bet he was taken by the Rabbit’s Foot Hermit.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Oh, you don’t know the legend? Let’s get the busted tire off of this…you’ve heard of Bigfoot, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I think Bigfoot is a bunch of bologna. Like there’s some monkey man wandering the woods for a hundred years? Yeah right! A bunch of teenagers proba
bly made up Bigfoot to scare their girlfriends on a camping trip. But the Rabbit’s Foot Hermit – he’sreal.”

  Cameron decided to entertain Dan’s folk tale. He’d run into several people on the outskirts of town with different stories or legends, but he could tell this one just might top them all. “So you’ve seen him?”

  “Well, I’ve never actually seen him, but my friend Randy has all kinds of stories. He told me the Hermit collects certain…things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Shoelaces.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Some say the legend of this hermit goes back all the way to 1892, so you know he’s an old geezer. He probably found the fountain of youth or something of that nature. Randy told me he saw him in the woods one night and he had aloooooong black beard. The hermit was notorious for eating rabbit stew every night he could catch ‘em. He’d make it real nice, too. Not just salt and pepper, no way. The hermit would make a proper stew, slicing potatoes with carrots and onions, and adding thick gravy to bring out the rabbit’s natural juices. Randy told me the stew made the rabbit meat real tender. Some say he always used traps in the woods to catch larger animals, but rabbits were his favorite. At least he gives the wolves a run for their money. It’s all about food chain diversification.”

  If Cameron had been talking to Dan on the phone, he would have hung up a long time ago, but Dan’s story had just enough nonsense to keep him interested. “So your friend Randy must have been a friend with this hermit guy?”

  “I wouldn’t say friends really. Randy just knows more about the hermit than anyone else. He’s sort of an aficionado.”

  “But why was he after people’s shoelaces?” Cameron asked.

  “Oh, yes, I heard he wouldn’t hurt them or nothing. He’d just ask them for their laces and go back to hunting rabbits with his BB gun. That’s why there were so many laceless people driving back to ‘Cisco. The old hermit weaves his own clothing from the shoelaces – it’s a fixation of his. Apparently, the hermit collects other things too – lunchboxes, rusty coins, and even skulls.”

  “What, is he a pirate or something?”

  “A pirate? No, no, no. You’re funny, though. Yes, skulls, but they’re not human.” Dan stepped up onto his tippy toes, raising his brow in an exclusive expression. “Alien skulls. Some sort of half-bear and half-squirrel breed. Straight out of science fiction.”

  “Sounds like more fiction than science.”

  “That’s what you think. Heck, they’ve got plenty in common: sharp teeth, brown fur, claws, and the skull structures of the two creatures have structural similarities.”

  Cameron wondered how many times Dan had told this story.

  Dan pulled the old tire off and placed the new tire on. Cameron rolled the old one to the back and carefully loaded it in the trunk next to the fireworks. Dan screwed on the new tire as he spoke.

  “Don’t you look at me like that! I can see all of those doubts swirling around in your head. You just haven’t heard what I’ve heard. But that’s why I’m telling you. The Bear-Squirrels have found a way to crossbreed, but they only last a few years. That’s why the skulls are everywhere. That’s whyhecollects them.”

  “And you’ve seen these skulls before. These half-bear…”

  “Seen them?” Dan scratched the back of his head. “I don’t have to see them to know they exist. It’s called faith. Why do you think UFO’s stopped landing around here? The pile of skulls got so large that it freaked the aliens. You, sir, should count your blessings. Without that old hermit, we’d all probably be sprawled out on some operating table, under some kind of horrible anesthetic with the aliens probing our innards. No doubt in my mind. That hermit has probably played a major role in protecting the earth people.” His eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Our people. Your people.”

  Cameron was now convinced he was trapped in some kind of TV show where hillbillies pranked city folk with their rancid ramblings.

  As he watched Dan’s mouth motor on, Cameron wondered when Dan would bend over in a belly laugh, calling off his story as nothing more than country legend. Alas, the belly laugh never came. He just kept talking.

  “That’s not the worst of it. There’s more than missing shoelaces. One time, I was cleaning up my shop just down the road when a stray dog came trotting down the hill. He had something in his mouth, and I couldn’t quite see what it was. The dog kept coming closer and closer, and since I wasn’t wearing my glasses, I couldn’t make out exactly what the pooch had between his jowls. The old mutt came right up to me and kept wagging his tail like he wanted to play fetch. So, I grabbed the stick, but this was no stick. It was a human arm!”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Dan itched his nose. “Would I lie about something like that? I can’t even dream up this stuff, man. It just happens. You know?”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “Well, I gave the arm a proper burial and hosed down the mutt before feeding him some beef jerky. I didn’t have any doggy snacks with me at the time.”

  “You buried the arm?” Cameron was regretting pulling over more and more.

  “Well, what would have you done? It’s still part of somebody, isn’t it? Man, if you ask me the arm might have belonged to the Rabbit Hermit. But I’m just speculating, of course. I know the Hermit was alive a few years ago when Randy told me all this stuff, but now I’m not so sure. Geez, talking about beef jerky is making me hungry.”

  “So did your friend Randy tell you where the hermit lives?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of. Apparently, the hermit lives in a cabin deep in the woods, but no one has ever been able to figure out its exact whereabouts. Even those fancy satellites can’t pick him up. There are a lot of clowns bouncing around out here with their mini cars and their mini brains, claiming to have pictures of the hermit. Of course, that can’t be true because he wouldn’t show up on film. He’s not a vampire or anything like that, just real old. Once people get past a hundred years, they stop showing up in photographs. It has something to do with how the sunlight reflects off their old skin or something. A trick of the light. Yep, he’s a true man of mystery, that one. A real stick in the mud. A real shit-monger. Randy told me the hermit only laughed after a rabbit kill – son of a gun. I’d bet the hermit’s a twisted old coot after living in the woods all these years – with one arm, no doubt. I’d bet his compass ain’t exactly pointing due north anymore. Probably lost his mind somewhere out in the pines.”

  Cameron noticed a bumper sticker attached to Dan’s car:Shit Happens. “Looks like you’re a real truth seeker, huh?” Cameron chuckled.

  Dan looked up. “Oh, that? Well, you know. Look at us – out in the middle of nowhere changing a flat. I’d say it’s pretty true today.”

  Cameron kicked at some gravel. “Yeah, my wife was…taken. Someone kidnapped her last night.”

  “Geez, I’m sorry. That’s god-awful. Taken where?”

  “I wish I knew,” Cameron said.

  “Shoot. Look, I know it’s stupid when people say they understand, but I do understand. My son was out driving around with his buddy Blake one evening, and they just never came back. Blake was a bit of a rebel-rouser, but he wasn’t smoking weed or anything. Like I said, Max was only sixteen. That’s been two years ago. The police searched and searched, but they never found the vehicle or the boys. I finally decided it was the old hermit – or I was just an awful father or something. But that don’t make sense because I did everything with Max. We’d go hunting and fishing, and we’d take ski trips in the winter. Heck, he even helped his old man sell some fireworks from time to time.”

  Cameron’s stomach dropped as he began to think that the police might never find Jennifer.

  Dan kicked the new tire and Cameron helped him lower the car back to ground level.

  “Life robs you sometimes. That doesn’t mean you have to stop living. Well, I’m very thankful for your help, and I’ll keep you in my thoughts as they find your wife. They will find her.” Dan
patted Cameron on the back as he loaded the car jack and the wrench back into the trunk. “I haven’t given up on my son, so have some hope. Who knows, maybe Max is just off on an extended road trip with Blake. I just wish he’d call me up and give me a chance to help him with some money or something. You take care now. Thanks for the help, Good Samaritan.”

  Cameron walked back to his car, surprised by the stuffy heat that hung in the car’s interior like a heavy mist. In the time he’d spent helping Dan change the flat, the sun’s penetrating heat had been magnified through the windshield, causing a greenhouse effect. The heat pressed against Cameron’s face as if it were denser than air; a pseudo-liquid that made breathing difficult.

  As he reached for the seatbelt, he quickly pulled his hand away when the metal seared his fingertips. Grabbing the cloth strap of the seatbelt, he secured it with a click and pulled back onto the highway. He turned on the air conditioning, but all that came out was a blast of heat. As he passed a semi truck for soft drinks, Cameron rolled down his window a few inches, letting the relief of the zooming breeze wash over his face.

  He knew it wasn’t worth it to become lost in despair. He couldn’t ignore his feelings, but he also had to stay reasonable. He still had a team of people who would help him search for her. Cameron just wanted to find her and bring her back safely.

  This was a crime scene he never wanted to photograph.

  THE NAMES

  Amy spent the morning at Cameron’s house, searching for any signs of evidence pointing to the abductors. She found that the security cameras in the house had been turned off when the intruders took Jennifer. But other than that, the only substantial physical evidence was Jennifer’s DNA.

  Now, back at the Fourth precinct, Amy organized a small search team. She told them to be ready to leave within the next few hours. The urgency to find Jennifer Frost grew with every hour that passed since the first twenty-four hours were extremely crucial. Unfortunately, the abductors hadn’t given Amy much to go on.

  So far, they had no license plate or any other vehicle information, and since Jennifer’s cell phone was left behind, there was really no possible way to track her whereabouts.