The Gift

by Kim Pritekel

  “No. What?” Catania asked, her voice just as soft. She used her sleeve to wipe away the tears that had begun to fall.

  “Come get me,” Squirrel responded, a plea in her tone. “I wanna go home.”

  Catania sniffled, the tears coming faster. “I don’t know where.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “Squirrel?” Catania said after the soft click of the line going dead. “Squirrel?” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Amy?” She let the phone slide down to the bed and let herself feel. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, I’ll find you.”

  ****

  Catania sent Ally a quick text before she headed out, letting her know where she was going and that she might be out of reception range at times driving through those mountain passes and valleys. She still hadn’t heard from her yet that day, which was a little surprising, But, she knew that weekends could be unreasonably busy at Randy’s.

  She floored the gas, taking the winding roads at speeds that were dangerous, but her heart was racing and her emotions were all over the place. She let out a roar that was ear-splitting in the confines of her Jeep, but she didn’t care.

  “You bastard!” she yelled, slamming her fist against the steering wheel. The tears were back and they ran hot down her cheeks.

  She knew she was being reckless, but didn’t care. She was filled with a flurry of shock, anger, confusion, and a whole lot of praying that she was wrong. Before she knew it, she was making her way up the long driveway. She pulled up in front of the lake house and cut the engine. Sitting behind the wheel for a long moment, she stared up at the large cabin, wondering where she was supposed to go. She felt too emotionally connected to all this to listen to her gut, which had remained silent anyway—except for the impulse to grab her personal .38 from her gun safe before she left the house. Maybe The Gift wasn’t totally MIA.

  Finally, she climbed out of the Jeep and walked to the front door where a large statue of a frog sat with a welcome sign around its neck. Hidden in the open mouth was a house key. Reaching in to get it, Catania let herself into the cabin.

  It was strange to be in there alone, without her family. She almost felt like a child lost in a store without her mother. She walked through the main floor, again getting that feeling of uncertainty. This time being there, however, she couldn’t help but think that Amy had roamed these halls. As she looked to the kitchen, though it had been remodeled since 1983, she thought back to that picture of Amy with her and Matteo.

  “Are you in this house somewhere, Amy?” she whispered, looking around again as though she expected the teen to waltz out of the bathroom. But then, she thought of Squirrel. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. Not the same person.”

  She headed upstairs to the bedrooms. The one she had shared with Matteo and Paul when they were kids was at the end of the L-shaped hall, their bedroom and a bathroom in that little nook. As she walked that way, something told her to look up.

  A small, wooden painted sign was mounted above the doorframe. She remembered well how she and Paul had giggled as they’d painted it and nailed it in place. They’d wondered how long it would take their parents to notice it and how much trouble they’d be in. Ironically, their mother had never noticed it and they’d gotten away with it clean. It was a smaller version of their street signs outside all over the property:

  None of Your Business Ln.

  She stopped and stared at that for a long moment, a very cocky young woman outside the Pueblo Police Department coming to mind. Again, she felt the sting of emotion as she entered the room. She turned to the right and saw one of the two windows in the bedroom. Walking toward that window, she saw the expanse of the side yard, opposite the lake side. There stood a massive tree, the one they all used to climb. The one they’d christened Squirrel Hotel.

  Feeling as though she couldn’t breathe, she ran her hand through her hair and sat on one of the twin beds, the old frame creaking under her weight. She couldn’t take her eyes off that tree, a tree her and her brothers climbed all over like…monkeys.

  “Jesus,” she murmured.

  Finally, she pushed up from the bed and headed out of the house to the snow-covered ground outside. The tree loomed large, its skeletal branches raised to the overcast sky as though reaching to the heavens.

  She looked down at the ground, a few rocks mixed with the snow and some patches of dark earth where the snow had either melted or been blown away. She did her best to put herself in detective mode, trying to figure out why she was standing next to that tree. Why was she drawn to it?

  “Did he put you here?” she whispered, lightly kicking the hard, frozen ground with the toe of her boot. There would be no way to dig there without a backhoe or some other heavy equipment. She was considering her options when something caught her eye.

  Walking over to the foot of the tree, she squatted down. It was partially buried in the snow, white against the dark brown of the tree trunk. Reaching out, she gently plucked it from the ground, her breath catching.

  A white matchbook, the number nineteen penned in bold, black Sharpie. She cradled the matchbook in her hands and closed her eyes, sending a silent prayer to a girl long lost.

  “Hey.”

  Catania’s head lifted, not entirely surprised to see the young woman she’d come to know as Squirrel standing there, a hand resting on the trunk of the tree. She was in her light blue and gray windbreaker, though her face was clean, free of the streets or any injuries. She looked light, free, and beautiful. She gave Catania a winning smile.

  “See ya around, Nene,” she said softly.

  Catania’s phone rang, startling her. She looked down as she reached into her jacket pocket to fish it out. When she looked back up, she was alone. Wiping her fresh tears away, she looked at the phone, noting Karen’s name.

  “Hello?” She pushed to her feet, listening to her sister-in-law. “Wait, no, I left her a voicemail and texted her, but I haven’t heard from her. Did you say the lady on the first floor said Ally didn’t make them breakfast?” She pulled the phone away to look at the clock. “Karen, it’s well after lunchtime, pushing dinner… Yeah, uh absolutely.” She pocketed the matchbook as she began to jog toward her Jeep. “No, I’m headed there now. Call the diner. I’ll call you when I know something.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Catania entered Aberdeen House, slowly making her way down the main hallway. She took in everything, looking for anything out of place, listening for anything out of place. All she heard was the muffled sounds of someone’s TV behind one of the closed apartment doors.

  She walked over to Ally’s door, studying it to see if anything stood out at her. Was there any blood on it? Was there any sign of a break-in, had the hinges or locks been messed with? Everything looked normal, so she reached for the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it turned with ease.

  She stepped inside, reaching down to her holster to unsnap the strap that held her .38 in place. The living area was quiet, no lights on, only the multi-colored hue from the stained glass window lit the space. The throw that was usually folded neatly on the back of the love seat was tossed aside, partially spread across the arm of the couch and draping to the floor. Catania figured Ally was likely watching TV before bed, as she often did when Catania didn’t spend the night. The previous night Catania’s arm had been hurting and, as she was trying to take less and less pain medication, they’d decided it would be best for her to go home and not chance her arm being hit accidentally by Ally in the night.

  That bit of information was troubling, as she knew that Ally wouldn’t have left the apartment without everything being clean and tidy. She stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, listening. The room below was also only lit by the sunlight coming in through the small windows.

  “Ally?” she called. “Ally, are you down there?”

  As she expected, there was no response. She slowly made her way down, glancing behind her from time to time to make sure she wasn’t going to end in a trap,
though nobody appeared by the time she reached the lower rooms. The bed was not only unmade, but half the bedding was puddled on the floor as though someone had been dragged from the bed. Not just someone, but Ally.

  She was startled when her text message indicator alerted. Eyes still scanning every single detail of the small apartment, she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, glancing down at the message.

  Jason: Don’t worry, she wasn’t hurt. Quite affable, really.

  Catania felt her blood go cold. She swiped out of texting and went to her contacts list when another text came in.

  Jason: Don’t bother calling, I won’t pick up. I’m a bit busy.

  Catania: What do you want with her?

  Catania looked around, wondering if he could see her. It was then that she noticed the carved cat she’d given Ally sitting on the small table.

  Jason: I was surprised Karen gave that to you. But then, daddy’s little Kitty Cat, makes sense.

  “Where are you, you fucker.” Her heart was racing as her mind exploded with the gravity of what was happening. The problem was, she didn’t really know what she was dealing with, or why.

  Looking up at the ceiling fan, she nearly smacked herself. She saw the wire peeking out that she’d noticed the night Ally asked her to check the apartment for her. Now, she wondered if it wasn’t connected to a camera.

  Catania: Where are you?

  Jason: Somewhere safe, warm, and private. Snug as a bug in a rug, we are.

  Suddenly, a picture came through on their thread, a selfie of Jason with his head resting next to Ally’s. She appeared to be lying down. She was gagged and her eyes were squeezed shut.

  “You mother fucker!” Catania roared, grabbing the carved cat and throwing it as hard as she could at the ceiling fan, two of the glass fixtures around the light bulbs exploding, raining glass down.

  Jason: Temper temper, little one. If you involve any other member of the police other than you, now that Oscar is out of service, I’ll kill her.

  Catania: Why? Why are you doing this? Why Ally?

  She texted the message before turning and running for the stairs, taking them two at a time. She ran down the hall, ignoring curious looks from a couple of the tenants who peeked out of their apartments.

  Jason: Because she’s part of my bucket list. So are you…

  Catania burst out into the late afternoon day, the sun already showing signs of calling it a day. She sprinted across the front yard to the curb where her Jeep was parked. Yanking the door open after she unlocked it, she didn’t even bother with her seat belt as she squealed the tires in her haste to get to Ally.

  She almost ran off the road as she looked away to grab the magnet-mounted siren out of her glove compartment and tossed it to her passenger seat as she cranked the driver’s side window down to she could reach out and place the siren on the roof. That accomplished, she gunned the engine, the big tires on the rugged Jeep chewing up the streets as she raced across town and into the more rural area, the houses farther apart as horse corrals and barns began to dot the landscape.

  As she got closer to the house, she slowed the Jeep. There were no cars in the expansive driveway, no signs of life. She pulled in front of the house rather than possibly getting boxed in or bulldozed in the driveway. She had no idea what was waiting for her on the other side of those four closed garage doors.

  Killing the engine, Catania glanced over to her empty passenger seat. “God, I wish you were here, buddy,” she whispered, a small smile coming to her lips as she knew Oscar was somehow sending her strength and courage. She bent over and reached into her glove compartment, pulling out some extra ammunition as well as the pink Derringer revolver Paul had given her when she graduated from the Academy. She rarely ever brought it out, but today she decided it was worth having additional backup. She made sure it was loaded and tucked it into the waistband of her jeans.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she reached up and wrapped her hands around the angel pendant Ally had given her for Christmas. She sent a silent message to Ally, letting her know she was on the way. She kissed the pendant and tucked away beneath her button shirt.

  Pistol pulled from her holster in hand, Catania ran toward the house with catlike stealth, knowing full well she was at a horrible disadvantage. She was out in the open and she was assuming Jason and Ally were even at the house. But, something in her gut told her they were. Somewhere on that property was the monster she hunted.

  She made her way to the front door, instantly ducking down out of the view or target of any window or door. She reached down to her holster belt, which seconded as a utility belt, and tugged her flashlight free from the leather ring it was tucked into. Clicking the flashlight aglow, she raised herself just enough to the bottom ledge of one of the windows on either side of the door, shining her beam inside.

  The house looked quiet, no movement inside, everything as it usually was. She reached her body out to grip the handle of the glass door and opened it, the door bracing against her arm as she checked the knob of the main, heavy door. It was unlocked.

  Squeezing her eyes shut and trying to calm her racing heart, she silently counted to three then let herself into the house, hitting the floor behind a wingback chair. Pistol leading the way, she scanned the room. Clear.

  “Jason?” she called out. She figured if he wished to communicate with her via texting, obviously he wanted her to follow the bread crumb trail he was laying for her. Now that she was in the house, she was counting on him reaching out to her again. “Jason? Ally?”

  The only thing she heard was the distant rhythmic ticking of a clock. The house felt empty, no life. All her training told her to go through the entire house and make sure it was clear, but her instincts told her that was wasting precious time that Ally didn’t have.

  She hurried through to the dining room where the French doors led to the back part of the property. Instantly her gaze settled on the large structure that was Jason’s workshop and rec room.

  It was a wide-open space between the house and the structure, not a thing to hide behind except a few saplings. All she could do was once again put the pedal to the metal and book it across the expanse until she pressed her back against the solid side of the workshop/garage. Her heart was pounding as, with all that she was, she knew she was a breath away from Jason and Ally. For just a moment it hit her what was at stake.

  For months she and Oscar had been following a trail of blood, chasing the Boogie Man from murder to murder. Now, it mattered more than ever. The woman that she loved was now being held as a pawn in a real-life game of chess, and Catania wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were. So many people had gotten hurt, people close to her, people she loved. She felt the weight of each moment of suffering on her shoulders.

  Taking several deep breaths, she pushed all her guilt, all her fear, and all her rage away. She had to focus and let her training kick in. Jason Ross would not win. Steeling her resolve, she grabbed the angel pendant and brought it out of her shirt. She gave it another quick kiss before dropping it back into her shirt.

  “I’m coming, baby,” she whispered.

  She made her way to the door, which was solid, no windows. Reaching for the knob, she found it unlocked like that of the house. She turned it and pushed the door open, standing back out of danger range. When nothing happened, she peeked her head in. Pitch blackness met her. She reached in to feel for a light switch, but when she found one, nothing happened.

  “Bastard,” she whispered. Jason was an electrician, and a damn good one. Lord only knew what kind of fun house he had planned.

  She brought her flashlight up again, sweeping her beam over her surroundings. It was amazing how creepy the most ordinary thing could look under the beam. Shadows danced and teased her, jumping from item to item. She felt like she was about to find a decapitated head in a jar in the back seat of a limo.

  Everything on both sides, the rec area and the workshop area, was exactly as she remembered it from
Christmas. One thing caught her attention, though. Gripping the flashlight between her arm and her side, she brought out her phone, pain searing from her fingers to her shoulder as she used her injured arm, but she did her best to ignore it. She studied the picture Jason had sent her. As much as it tore her heart out to see the fear on Ally’s face again, she had to look past it, literally.

  Though it was a close-up of the two of their faces, she could see a bit of the wall beyond Ally’s blond hair. It looked to be gray cement. Looking around where she stood, she knew the floors were all polished cement, but from memory and what her light shone on, all the walls were either drywalled and painted, or were covered in pegboard or hung tools.

  She swung her flashlight in the area of the rec room, which she knew led to the garage portion. As her beam moved in that direction, it crossed over Jason’s workbench and finally the art display on the wall of his “bucket list.” He’d even mentioned that to her when she was still at Ally’s apartment.

  Walking over to it, she studied the clay pieces. It amazed her that such a talented, creative man could be an absolute devil in disguise. Studying the top bucket, she reached out and removed it from its iron ring. Shining the flashlight down into it, the light bounced back off the blue-colored gel to nearly blind her. No time to mess with it, she allowed the clay bucket to fall, breaking into several large pieces on the cement floor. The crash was as startling as it was satisfying.

  The gel split open into three Jell-O-like pieces, revealing a metal tin, like what Band-Aids used to be in. She quickly opened it, finding as promised a dried bridal rose as well as some movie stubs, including to her surprise, those to the Harry Potter movie from the picture.

  “Slimy bastard,” she muttered, reaching for the second bucket. “So fucking important to you, yet you were fucking around on her…”

  The second bucket met the same fate, though in this one was a small tin, the size of an Altoids tin. The contents in that one stole her breath away. She reached inside and withdrew a cold, bone-shaped dog tag: Brewster. The second item in the tin knocked her from her squatting position to sitting down. It was a driver’s license, and the face smiling up at her had become as familiar to her as her own face.