“Where are you?”
“I am the one who shakes the walls of the temple. You are a shit crawler. Or maybe you’re not a man at all. Listen to this...”
He heard a scream pierce through his phone. Loud enough to cause him to hold it away from his ear.
“You fucking bastard.”
“Careful, shit crawler,” Mr. Grin said. “I think your little bitch has a lot more screams left. Bye now.”
And then he was gone, leaving Jack with the emptiness Gina’s scream caused. What could he have possibly done to make her scream like that? Visions of burning cigarettes on perfect pale skin screamed through his head. Other things... Fingernails pulled out. Nipples clamped. Arches jabbed.
He tried to shake them away.
Those visions were not helping. Those visions couldn’t help him. They could only cause the hate to rise a little closer to the surface, clouding the mystery, muddling the game.
Grimacing at the brutal day spreading out before him, the brutal morning already buried in the past, shivering in his thin soaked t-shirt and soaked jeans, sagging low around his hips, he trudged onto Corner Street, bringing the cafe into view. The rain continued to pour down, adding to the overall grayness now cloaking the neighborhood. His breath plumed out of his mouth and he found himself craving a cigarette, really craving one, for the first time in three years.
Very few cars were on the road. Obviously, no one was out playing in their yard. He felt like the most alone person on the planet. Except he wasn’t. He knew, somewhere, Gina felt much more alone than he did. If he could only find her. That was all he had to do. Every second, his anger toward Mr. Grin doubled and trebled and he thought that, by the time he actually found him, he would probably be able to tear him apart with his bare hands.
He nearly skipped across the parking lot to the cafe, eager for the warmth and its connection to people. People who were not crazy. People who didn’t slam doors.
He pulled open the steamed-over glass door, immediately melting with the comforting scent of strong dark coffee. Maria was behind the counter, making some sort of frothy drink for a middle-aged woman. She noticed Jack. He noticed the curious look that crossed her eyes, probably wondering why he had chosen to walk here now, of all times, before she raised her head in a slight greeting.
He watched her go about her business, standing quietly and rubbing his bare arms for warmth. Maria took art classes at the community college. One of her parents was Filipino, Jack couldn’t remember which one, and her thick black hair hung down to the middle of her back in perfect dreadlocks. This, of course, meant she had gone to great lengths in order to give herself dreads. Both ears were more gleaming white metal than flesh and other small hoops adorned her left eyebrow, her right nostril and the left side of her lower lip. Never minding how clichéd it all was, it managed to work on her.
She sat the cup in front of the woman. The woman asked for whipped cream. Maria rolled her eyes, pulled the aerosol can out of the refrigerator and sprayed some on top of the beverage, giving the woman a completely sarcastic grin. Jack noticed the woman’s face as she turned away with her drink and thought she looked scared. Probably hoping her daughter never grew up to look like Maria.
“What’s up?” Maria asked.
“Are you the only one here?” he asked, suddenly aware of how crazy and paranoid that sounded.
“No, Joey’s in back. Why?”
“Do you think you could talk to me for a few minutes?”
“Sure. Are you okay? Is it about Gina? Is Gina okay?”
“I just want to talk.”
“Sure. Hang on.” She turned around and took a couple steps until she was in between the back counters, cracking the door leading to the back room and saying, “Hey, Joey, can you watch the counter for a bit?”
Jack heard a distant “Yeah” come from the back room.
Maria motioned for him to come behind the counter with her. He followed her into the back room, passing Joey on his way to the front.
“Hey Joey,” Jack said.
“Hey Jack. Everything okay?”
“I think so.” He sincerely wished he could offer something a little less ambiguous than that.
Maria held up at the last minute. “You want a cup of coffee or something?” she asked. “You look cold.”
“Yeah. That’d be nice. Thanks.”
“Be right back.”
The back room consisted of a small burnt orange couch and an old Formica and chrome kitchen table with four black vinyl seats surrounding it. The tabletop was covered with magazines— Rolling Stone, Mental Floss, The Modern Drunkard, Rue Morgue, Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens and Reader’s Digest. He thought that last one seemed a little out of character but who was he to judge? He pulled one of the chairs out and then decided he probably shouldn’t sit down in it. He was still dripping. The heat of the cafe was nice. It made his skin sting and itch.
Maria came back with an ivory ceramic mug. “Black?” she asked.
“Yeah. Black is good.”
“Sit down.”
“I’m soaked.”
“I don’t think anyone’s going to care. That chair probably cost less than a cup of coffee.”
“Thanks.”
He sat down at the table and took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and good.
“So what’s up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in the same room as Gina. Is she okay?”
“Yeah. I think so. I just wanted to ask you if you’ve noticed anything odd about her lately.”
“Odd?” Maria’s silver eyebrow hoop rose slightly. “Gina’s always been a little odd. Is she sick or something?”
“No. Well, I guess what I wanted to know was... do you think she could be having an affair?”
“An affair? Gina?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
He noticed she asked why instead of flatly stating that it was impossible. “I just... I don’t know. I’ve been getting these strange phone calls and...” He realized he didn’t have much to suggest Gina having an affair that wouldn’t also let Maria know what was happening. And, of course, she couldn’t know what was happening because that would go against the rules and if she decided to go to the police as any sane and rational person would then it was likely Gina would end up dead. He was not a good liar. He never lied. But he had to now. “Well, she said she was going out with some friends last night and she didn’t come home.”
Maria’s jaw dropped.
“And I didn’t know if you were with her or not. I know you guys go out sometimes. I was just wondering if she, you know, ever went home with any guys or, hell, I don’t even really know what I’m trying to prove...”
“Usually, when we go out, she’s the driver. I mean, I’ve been pretty wasted a few of those times and I guess anything would have been possible, I wouldn’t have even noticed but, Jack, I think she’s crazy about you.”
“So, you never noticed anything?”
“I can say in good faith that I haven’t. Do you know who she went out with?”
“Oh, it was her sister and some of her sister’s friends. I don’t know any of their numbers or anything like that or I’d try bothering them.”
“Have you tried calling Gina’s phone?”
“Yeah, but she won’t pick up. I think she thinks I’d be mad at her.”
“You want me to try?”
He hadn’t even thought of that.
“Yeah. She wouldn’t have any reason not to answer a call from you.”
She walked to the back of the small room, to a coat rack, and reached into her dangling olive drab backpack, pulling out her phone. She opened it and pressed a button.
“It’s ringing,” she said, looking at him. Then a disappointed look crossed her face and she mouthed, “Voice mail,” before saying into the phone, “Hey, Gina baby, it’s Maria. I’m at work but call me when you get this, okay? Leave a message if I don’t answer. Later.”
“No luck,
huh?” He knocked back another heavenly warm slug of the coffee.
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
“Are you sure there isn’t something else going on? You guys get in a fight or something?”
“No. We never fight.”
“I know. Believe me, I’ve heard all about the perfect relationship of Gina and Jack.”
“Sorry,” he shrugged.
“No. It’s nothing to be sorry about. I’d take it if I could get it.”
Maria reached a heavily ringed hand out and put it over his. “You should let me know if things don’t work out between you.”
His heart skipped a beat. My God, was she hitting on him. It put into perspective how not-serious his predicament seemed to anyone who didn’t have all the information.
He took another shaky sip of his coffee and said, “Thanks for the help, Maria.”
“Any time,” she smiled.
He stood and paused at the door leading out into the cafe, turned and said, “When you guys went out... was it normally just you and her or did anyone else ever go along?”
“No. It was normally just us. Sometimes we would run into people she went to high school with and hang around with them but never outside of the bar or anything.”
“Like who?”
“Oh, just people...”
“Like ex-boyfriends and things?”
“Oh, you mean like Tim Fox?”
“Exactly.”
“Yeah, we ran into him a couple of times but she never went anywhere with him. I mean, there was nothing there. Besides, he’s married and has a kid and everything. You shouldn’t worry about him.”
Yeah, he thought. And Gina probably thought she didn’t have to worry about you, either.
“No. Okay. Thanks, Maria.”
He walked through the cafe and out into the cold noon drizzle.
Twelve
Once outside, he stopped, turned, and went immediately back into the cafe.
“Hey Joey,” he said. “You guys have a phone book here?”
“White or yellow pages?”
“White, I guess.”
Joey reached under the counter and brought the book up, plopping it onto the counter, the smell of cheap newsprint wafting up from it. The front of it had an overhead picture of Alton on it. The picture was from far away—the further you got from Alton, the better it looked. Opening it, he flipped to the “F” section. If he was going to try and find Tim Fox, he supposed he should know where he was looking. A Timothy L. Fox was listed at 118 Ettinger Lane. He would just have to assume this was his man.
Or Gina’s man...
He closed up the book and said thanks before a sound came from the back of the cafe, startling him. It was a very succinct scream. Almost more of a bark. Probably Maria, he figured. Joey’s eyes grew wide and he started for the back. Jack held up a hand.
“Stay out here,” he said. “I’ll check and see if she’s okay.”
In the few seconds it took him to cross around the counter and get into the back room he had already hoped her scream came from something simple like pinching a finger or slipping or any other mundane household accident but, in the back of his brain, he already had thoughts that it was something more sinister. He couldn’t help but think everything happening to him had something to do with Gina’s disappearance— from the storm to Moran’s behavior to his bizarre actions and now to something as minor as Maria’s brief yelp.
When he reached the back room, he saw her standing in the middle of the room, holding her left wrist with her right... looking at her forearm. He thought he knew what she was looking at before asking, “Can I see?”
Her eyes were huge, her eyebrow ring now nearly meeting her hairline.
“What the fuck?” she said.
“When did this happen?”
“Just now.”
“You’re kidding.” He thought her shout had been one of surprise more than pain given the rest of her prickly accoutrements and many other tattoos and piercings that were probably not visible.
“No. I was getting ready to come back up front and I felt this stabbing pain like something was biting me and I pulled up my sleeve and there it was.”
It was exactly like the one on Moran’s arm. A vertical rectangle with a horizontal line bisecting it, turning it into two squares. And it definitely looked more like a branding than a tattoo. He couldn’t see any ink. Just angry red welts. Five altogether.
“What the fuck is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. How could I know?”
“I don't know,” she mumbled, continuing to look at her new brand. “I just thought maybe you would.”
“I haven’t a fucking clue.”
He could tell by looking at her she wasn’t telling him something. Some people made good liars. Some people wore their lies on the crease of their brows and the depth of their eyes. Maria was one of the latter.
“What is it?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, feeling the heat coming through the thin cotton of her shirt.
“When it happened... I had a... vision of you. Like I saw your face very clearly in my head.” She bit her lower lip. “That’s happened before but this was... different. Like I immediately associated the pain with your face.”
“Interesting,” he said.
“Interesting? I want to know what the fuck it is.”
“It’s probably been there all morning and you just now noticed it. It’ll probably clear up. I wouldn’t worry about going to go see a doctor until tomorrow. See if it isn’t better.”
“I don’t like doctors.”
“Who does?”
“Now what aren’t you telling me?” she asked.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “What am I not telling you,” he said. “Oh, there’s a whole lot of shit I’m not telling you. I’m sorry. I really am but I can’t. Really, it would probably be best if you just forgot I came here today. Will you do that? Then maybe you, me and Gina can sit around in a couple of days and laugh about all this over some beers.”
“Okay. I just want to make sure no one’s in trouble. You kind of act like somebody who’s in a lot of trouble.”
“I might be,” he said. “Just... you know, don’t tell anyone what I asked about Gina. I don’t want it to get back to her if she’s not seeing anyone else. I don’t want to look like a jealous paranoid asshole. And if she is, it’ll really just be embarrassing...”
“I understand.”
“You should come by the house tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me or Gina before then, you should stop by tomorrow, maybe on your lunch break or something.”
“Jack, what the fuck’s the matter?”
“I can’t, Maria. I wish I could. Boy, I really wish I could tell you. I think I need to go. Take care. Call me on my phone if anything else... strange happens, okay?”
“I don’t have your number.”
He went over to the table, grabbed the Rolling Stone and a pen and scrawled his number across Bono’s forehead.
“There. Now you have it. Call me later.”
“Sure,” she said.
He thought about how important that later phone call might be. Once he knew where Gina was, he didn’t care what Mr. Grin said, he would tell anyone he knew because he might just need their help. He might need all the help he could get.
For the second time in ten minutes, he left the cafe.
Thirteen
He felt lost. Alton was not an enormous city or a small town. It was a mid-sized city. Nowhere near as large as Columbus or Cincinnati. He thought he knew where Ettinger was. He didn’t want to take any chances. A map was what he needed. And transportation. Transportation would have been a godsend. Well, he thought, there’s always the bus. He had never ridden the bus but he knew it was available if he needed it. He always noticed bus stops but figured, now that he needed it, there wouldn’t be one for miles. With his luck, he wouldn’t be surprised if all of the bus drivers had gone on strike.
Luckily, the rain had tapered off a bit. It was now more like a cool mist. This was probably going to give him a fairly horrendous cold.
But what would a cold matter if he didn’t live another day? What would a cold matter if he lost Gina forever? Not one bit was the only answer he could come up with.
He walked to the edge of the cafe parking lot and looked around. The cafe was in a strip mall with a lot of shops that were essentially useless to him. But there, across the street, was a gas station. Gas stations, especially the ones with brightly lighted convenient stores attached to them, were the answer to most of modern man’s needs and questions. Bathrooms, maps, food, coffee, cigarettes, gas— they had everything.
He headed in that direction. Gleefully, he noticed the tinted-glass awning of a bus stop in front of the gas station’s parking lot. If he was really lucky, the clerk would know what time the next bus ran. He gave himself fifteen minutes. If the bus was supposed to come within fifteen minutes, he would wait for it. If not, he would carry on. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the display on the front of it.
12:45.
It was hard to believe that less than two hours had passed since his horrifying telephone call. Consequently, that meant less than twenty-two hours remained for him to find Gina. And he still didn’t really know where to begin looking.
He walked into the gas station. The clerk, a dumpy lady in her forties, nodded her peroxided head. He raised his hand and approached her.
“Maps?” he asked.
“Right under you,” she said. Her name badge said ‘Donna.’ She had three blue stars below her name. He guessed that was good. Surely this woman with three blue stars would be able to help him.
“Thanks,” he said.
He found one that would help him. It was a thin fold-out type for Alton and surrounding areas. Most of the surrounding areas were cornfields.
He put the map on the counter.
“That it?” Donna asked.
“I think so.”
She gave him the total and he reached for his wallet. He didn’t have any cash. He hardly ever carried cash anymore. Just some coins that hadn’t fallen out into the washer yet. He gave Donna his credit card.
Jack and Mr. Grin Page 4