The Lost Orphans Omnibus: A Riveting Mystery

by J. S. Donovan

  “Doesn’t sound that dangerous,” Mallory said.

  “Yeah,” Rachel replied. “It’s just tedious work, and there’s a pretty good chance it will turn out to be a dead end.”

  “If you had more people looking for it, I’m sure you could find it quickly,” said Mallory.

  Rachel took another sip. “I don’t know if the department would be of much help. They’re already swamped.” Rachel looked at the child. “But you weren’t talking about the department.”

  A sly grin curled up Mallory’s cute face.

  Rachel sighed. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’ll let you come along,” Rachel said.

  Mallory stood from her seat with a look of pure joy on her face.

  “Let me be very clear: this is a privilege, not a right. Any responsible adult would’ve brought you back to the orphanage last night. The only reason why I’m taking you along is because I know it won’t be dangerous and it will do your mind some good to get outside.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mallory saluted.

  “Stay behind me, do everything I say, and do not salute or call me ma’am again. It makes me feel old.”

  “Yes, ma—Rachel.”

  “Finish your tea.”

  Mallory sat back down and gulped down her tea. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and ran up the stairs.

  “Where you are going?” Rachel asked from the table.

  Mallory grabbed the railing. “To change my clothes. I packed extra in my travel bag.”

  She hurried up the steps and out of sight.

  “Little rascal,” Rachel mumbled to herself. “She even brought a suitcase.”

  After Rachel finished her tea, she took a very quick morning shower, put her hair into a ponytail, and slipped it through the strap of her black baseball cap. Wearing a leather jacket, a grey T-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots in case of rough terrain, Rachel was ready to put on her belt, badge, and gun and head downstairs.

  Mallory was brushing her long brown hair at the bottom of the steps. She wore a headband, a cute blue-and-black sweater, fitted sweats, and little running shoes.

  “Sure you’re going to be warm enough in that?” Rachel asked.

  Mallory nodded enthusiastically.

  A car horn honked outside.

  Rachel and Mallory headed out of the front door. Peak’s rolled-up window muted his curse, but his moving lips made his stance on Mallory very clear.

  Rachel opened the passenger door and slipped inside. Mallory clambered into the backseat and put on her seat belt.

  Peak glared at Rachel. His slender body was tense, and his hands clenched the steering wheel. “Rachel, what is that in my backseat?”

  “She’s coming with us, Peak.”

  Peak shook his head. “No. No. Call Sunny Pines right now and have them pick her up.”

  Rachel put on her seat belt. “This is not up for debate.”

  Peak set his jaw. Fury burned behind his coal-like eyes.

  “We’re burning daylight,” Rachel reminded him.

  Peak put the car in drive and rolled on. He looked in the rearview. Mallory smiled at him.

  “Now you have double the psychics,” she said cheerily.

  Peak groaned. “Great. There’s two of them.”

  Withdrawing a few bagel sandwiches, Rachel handed the bag back to Mallory. She pulled out a couple, as well.

  The vein in Peak’s neck bulged. “There better be some left for me.”

  Taking a bite of her first sandwich, Mallory passed the bag up to Peak. He rested it on his lap and pulled out a single wrapped sandwich. It was the smallest one. All emotion fled from Peak’s face.

  “Here, grumpy.” Rachel threw one of her extras at him. It bounced off his chest. Thankfully, it was wrapped. Otherwise, he’d be wearing egg, cheese, and ham.

  The ride out of Highlands was always a treat, especially in the late fall. Fog hung over tall oaks with painted leaves the color of a raging fire: red, auburn, orange, and gold. The roads wound down the plateau’s face. The towering Appalachian Mountains stood mightily on the other side of the curving guardrail. A blue haze shrouded the mountains, making them ethereal in nature. An uncountable number of trees clothed them.

  It did not take long before they were on the state road, flanked by nature and man’s only stamp on God’s creation.

  Rachel watched the world blur by. Mallory was curled up like a pill bug on the backseat. Her brown locks fell over her face and her closed eyes.

  “This is illegal,” Peak said out of the blue.

  Rachel gave him a look. “Like we’ve never broken the law.”

  “We have a victim in one of our cases participating in the current investigation. McConnell’s not going to be happy. Especially after the little sit-down he gave us.”

  Rachel scratched her arm. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t find out.”

  Peak’s eyes stayed on the road. He opened up the middle console and removed a packet of Skittles. Driving with a knee, he opened the pack and sent a waterfall of sweets into his mouth. “What do you think will happen to her?”

  A few Skittles fell from his lips when he spoke. He caught them in the cup of his hand before tossing them into his gullet.

  “She’ll probably be adopted,” Rachel replied. “Get a good home. New family.”

  “You’re too optimistic. Her condition will plant her in a mental hospital before she’s eighteen.”

  Rachel took offense to that. “I’m going to teach her to hide it.”

  “Good luck,” Peak said dryly.

  Rachel glared.

  Peak continued. “Your Gift didn’t develop until you were in your thirties. She was born with it. How can she adapt to society when all of her friends are the victims of serial killers?”

  “Mallory’s a lot stronger and craftier than you think. She found a way out of the orphanage, traveled nearly fifteen miles, and got into my house without getting caught.”

  “Through hitchhiking and putting her trust in others. We know better than anyone that there aren’t that many good people in this world.”

  “There’s more than you think,” Rachel replied.

  “Perhaps,” Peak said doubtfully. “Are you going to trust her with the lottery of adoptive couples?”

  “What are you suggesting?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m not suggesting anything,” Peak replied.

  “You want me to adopt her?” Rachel chuckled. “I’m not exactly mother material.”

  Peak turned to her for the first time in the conversation. “If you’re not going to take care of her, leave her be.”

  Rachel’s blood pressure rose. “She needs my help.”

  “You’re giving her false hope,” Peak said. “She’s dealing with the tragic loss of her mother and suffering major psychological damage from being in captivity. In one night, her life was stripped from her. She’s searching for something solid. You. And the more you get involved, the more she’ll want you. Need you, actually.”

  Like feeding a lost dog, Rachel thought with a sickening taste in her mouth. “She’s a human being, Peak. Not some animal.”

  Peak shrugged. “Do what you will, Harroway, but if you don’t want to have any responsibility, sever the connection with her. Otherwise, you’ll only hurt her, and she doesn’t need any more of that right now.”

  Rachel stared out the window. Peak’s words anchored into her mind and heart, pulling her into strife. He made a good point and raised another question. Why am I helping her? Was it out of empathy? False responsibility? Her own contentment? Or something else entirely? The more Rachel asked the question, the more conflicted she became. She made a pact with herself: today’s events would determine how much she’d invest into Mallory Stix’s life.

  Rachel turned back to the eight-year-old, struggling to imagine the child being part of her daily routine and what it would cost.

  The two-hour drive ended in a blink. Down a thin mountain pass and int
o a grove, Woodhall appeared in view. The three-story building had a symmetrical design with rows of windows across all three floors and a courtyard bordered by a cobblestone fence topped with rusty black spires. Vines inched their ways up the orphanage’s brick wall. Weeds with husks and coils of thorns ruined the courtyard’s prestigious aesthetics. The wooden benches decayed in place and were being slowly sucked into the earth. Someone had constructed a fire pit encircled by fallen bricks. The firewood within was sooty and blackened. The overcast skies cast a grey shadow across the condemned property. Crickets chirped while blackbirds waddled across the yard, digging small bugs out of the earth with their sharp beaks.

  Mallory awoke when the car stopped. She balled her fists as she stretched her arms. Yawning, she exited the vehicle. Peak and Rachel followed. They scanned their surroundings. By crushed dry leaves that littered the road, it appeared a vehicle had passed through here recently. Rachel guessed teenagers. Halloween was not that long ago, and what better place to throw a spooky party?

  Bolt cutters in hand, Peak approached the gate. He held up the broken chain to show Rachel. “We aren’t the first.”

  She involuntarily touched her weapon. Though extremely slim, there was a chance that the Poisoner was on their trail. Rachel had to be ready for anything.

  With a screech, the gate opened, and the feeding crows took flight. A few black feathers sprinkled the sky and rained down on the courtyard.

  “Martin Malone,” Peak said, more to remind himself than to inform Rachel. “We need to find the archives, if there’s anything still left.”

  “We both know that if there were better leads, we would’ve taken them,” Rachel replied.

  As she stepped through the threshold of the gate, a strong chill gripped her and set her teeth chattering.

  She looked back at Mallory. By the intense look on the little girl’s face, she was feeling it too. Peak, however, was unfazed.

  “Orphans are nearby,” Rachel informed the posse.

  “It’s an orphanage, Harroway,” Peak said dryly. “Perhaps our own orphan should stay in the car.”

  Mallory put her hands on her little hips. “I can take care of myself.”

  Peak rubbed his hands, figuratively washing them of any responsibility for the girl.

  “Very cute, Peak,” Rachel replied. “We’re the adults here. If anything happens to Mallory, we are both to blame.”

  “I have my own daughter to worry about,” Peak replied. “That’s more than enough for me to handle.”

  They marched through the courtyard, by the chirping bugs and the neglected fire pit, before stopping at the front door, boarded up with wooden two-by-fours. Peak observed the rusty nail heads that were hammered deep into the wood. He looked at the windows. The ones on the bottom floor had been hastily boarded up from within. Without a word, Peak returned to the vehicle.

  “Feel that?” Mallory asked quietly.

  Before Rachel could ask what, she felt another wave of cold pass by her, directly at the other side of the front door. It lingered there for a moment, like a host waiting to greet his guests. A moment passed. The cold dissipated.

  “Who do you think it is?” the child asked.

  Rachel recalled the story of the twin nurses but decided not to share it. “Stay away from anyone in here. We’re both Marked enough as it is. The last thing we need is more complications.”

  Peak returned with a pry bar. He gestured for the ladies to step aside and went to town on the wooden planks. After a few moments of watching Peak do all the hard work, Rachel and Mallory were clear to enter.

  The inside resembled that of most hospitals: cold tile floor, receptionist’s desk, waiting area, and a few branching hallways. Dusty darkness masked every path. Glass from a broken beer bottle crunched below Rachel’s heel. Spray-painted obscenities and male genitalia painted the hallway wall. More glass, red Solo cups, and other trash sprinkled the floors. Some of it appeared to be years old.

  “They must’ve found another way in,” Peak pointed out.

  The wooden planks Peak had removed on the front doors were ancient.

  The waiting area had rows of chairs that sat back to back and facing one another. There were a few small lampstands with old children’s books. Rachel brushed her hand over one. The front cover had a cartoon elephant. It was heavily weathered, and the coloring had faded. The brittle pages within fell from their bindings. Peak lifted one. Rachel put it back. Mallory called them over to the registry on the wall. It listed the different wings and their various rooms, suites, and doors. It would’ve been nice to have a map, but this would have to do.

  Mallory pointed upward to the plaque labeled Administration, only the A and a few other letters had been scraped away. It was located on the third floor. They headed toward the three elevators with elegant trim and pushed open the nearby door to the emergency flight of stairs.

  Quick footfalls moved on the steps high above them. Rachel withdrew her weapon and looked up at the sets of stairs running and ascending around the room. Mallory stepped beside Rachel, trying to steal a peek. There was the sound of grinding metal coming from the third-floor landing. Suddenly, a metal administrative desk flipped over the railing and went plummeting down on their heads. Rachel grabbed Mallory under her arms and pulled her away as the desk smashed into the ground with a resounding echo.

  Peak eyed Rachel nervously. She gestured to the desk. Peak shook his head. When Rachel turned back, the desk had vanished. She let go of Mallory and brushed her off. “You need to stay behind me,” Rachel warned her.

  Mallory apologized in such a way that Rachel couldn’t help but forgive her. Moving with Peak, they started up the steps. The hike was grueling, and Rachel was constantly checking for more falling objects. Thankfully, it was clear skies up to the third floor. They pulled open the door, revealing a stack of metal desks like the one that had dropped and vanished, stacked face-to-face. Peak tried to move them, but they were backed by more debris.

  Rubbing his dusty hands on his jeans, he took a step back. “This must be where the twins made their last stand.”

  “The police got to them eventually. Let’s find another way. I’m sure there’s another set of stairs leading up from the second floor.”

  Rachel, Peak, and Mallory descended to the second-floor door. They pushed it open. Dorms rested on one side of the hall. An infirmary rested on the opposite side. The interior windows of the infirmary had closed white curtains. Rachel felt something pull at her from within. On the other side of the curtain, she saw the shadowy silhouette of a doctor chatting with two nurses. Their words were muted. Rachel saw one of the nurses raise a syringe. Mallory gulped as she watched. She noticed Rachel’s hard face and mimicked her expression. The nurse with the syringe walked to the other side of the curtain. Her shadow grew larger but dimmer the farther it got. It vanished, and the other nurse and doctor followed.

  Peak moved forward, curiously glancing into ajar doors. Most of the rooms were occupied by a twin-sized bed and small desk and dresser. It made Sunny Oaks look like the Marriott. Some of the walls had children’s crayon drawings on them. Others had broken window glass across the bed and a number of bird droppings; one was very tidy and looked ready to move into. Rachel didn’t know why that creeped her out the most.

  They found a sign for another set of stairs in the employee-only area. It led them through a small hall with a janitorial closet and a room full of clothes hampers. There was a little hand-cranked elevator where clothes and dirty sheets could be lowered into the laundry facility on the first floor. It appeared not to have been used in many years, even before the place was abandoned.

  The stairs were in the same hall as these two rooms, but only connected the second and third floor. The door into the third-floor hallway was already breached. Judging by the dents on its metal surface, they knew it was the obvious target of police battering rams. The windows on this floor suffered more damage than most. There were mostly offices with cracked and puncture
d pebble glass on their doors. There was an employee lounge and a kitchen with a small bar. At the far end of the hall were the archives. One of the nearby office doors was open fully, spilling out old papers that had stuck to the hallway floor. A wind gust blew through the shattered window in that office. Its breeze tried to peel the paper from the floor like fingernails against a stubborn Band-Aid. The breeze also ruffled the feathers of the multitude of dead crows forming a line down to the archives’ double doors.

  Peak eyed them, his shoulders becoming tense.

  He sees it, Rachel thought with worry. The Gift is very strong here. Hot and cold splashed over Rachel as they neared the first bird. Her head began to cramp as if a vise had been placed on her temples and tightened. She knelt down and examined the carcass. Its yellow bones poked through its decaying flesh. There was a hole where one eye had been. Dried blood and other leaking fluids stained the floor around it. The cause of death was indiscernible.

  Peak walked parallel to the dead birds. His jaw was tight, and his fingers were coiled around his lowered pistol. His walk was steady, professional, and heading straight for the archives door. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow and plopped next to one of the birds.

  Rachel heard a soft scraping sound nearby. She looked down at the decomposing bird flapping one wing. It turned its little black head, looking at Rachel with its empty socket before taking flight. With broken wings, it flew through the hall, circled Peak’s head once—though he didn’t see it—before it beelined straight for Rachel.

  Instinct prompted her to dive out of the way just in time for it to swoop by and flutter down the hall and stairs beyond. That was when Rachel realized Mallory was gone. Dread and panic formed in the pit of her belly. She quickly got up, bouncing her eyes between the various office doors, trying to recall which were open when she passed by and which were not.

  “Mallory!” Rachel’s fearful cry echoed through the orphanage. She waited, hoping the child would make herself known. Each second that ticked by was excruciating. She remembered her encounter with Mallory and the Orphan pulling on her hair. Mallory never recovered from that. Natural or supernatural, whatever took the child could kill her.