INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2)

by Roccaforte, Bella

  I have to call Harry. I go to my office and sit at the desk. I dial Harry up. It goes to voicemail. “Hey Harry, its Eli. I have a problem. Shay took off. Call me.”

  How did this happen? I can’t believe I lost her. What do I do? I sit at my desk for a minute with my head in my hands trying to think of where she would go. That bottle of Johnny is whispering my name. I slide the drawer open but don’t reach for the bottle. I just look at it, lying there on its side in the drawer. The label is so pretty but the caramel-colored whisky inside is even prettier. My mouth waters and my brain starts firing off a yearning that is undeniable.

  Looking away from the bottle I focus on the pictures on my desk. One of Shay and me when we went camping with Kevin and Trish; I see the light in her eyes. The love she had for me. ‘Had;’ does she still love me? I could torture myself like this for hours.

  Thoughts of Shay and her delicate features fill my mind, the way her lashes flutter when she’s excited, or how she bites on her full bottom lip when she’s worked up. God, it drives me crazy just thinking about her. I love her. I love everything about her. The way she smells, the way she talks, she's everything a man could ever ask for. I’m not going to let her go. I’m going to fight for her this time when Aiden comes back. I’m not going to be a pussy and just roll over.

  Which demon wins tonight, the one in the drawer or the one wandering the streets? I kick the drawer closed and pick up the phone. I dial Aiden’s number knowing he won’t pick up. Straight to voicemail, do I leave a message? If I do I have to make it a good one, something that will make him call back.

  “Aiden, it’s Eli–” I hang up before I continue. Hold on, his voicemail wasn’t full; he’s been retrieving his messages. I don’t know what that means other than he’s not dead. Maybe it’s time to have Preston track his phone. If he’s checking his voice mail that means he could be turning it on.

  I should at least try Trish; if she’s heard from her I’ll feel better knowing she’s not out there alone.

  “Hello?” Trish answers the phone. I’m shocked.

  “Trish, it’s Eli.”

  “Yeah, so?” She’s such a bitch. I have never understood Shay’s friendship with her.

  “Have you seen Shay?” I ask even though I know it’s a loaded question.

  “No I haven’t because of a couple of dickheads won’t even let me call her.” The way Trish talks could make a sailor blush.

  “If she calls you please let me know. She’s not safe by herself right now.” I plead with her.

  “Yeah, Eli you’ll be the first one I call if I finally get to talk to my best friend after not hearing from her for weeks.” She says it with a cut in her tone and hangs up.

  I start going through my phone calling mutual friends of Shay and mine, but no one’s heard from her. Carl’s business card is on my desk. “Paranormal Investigator,” what a fucking joke; unfortunately he may be my only chance at finding Shay.

  Carl’s number goes straight to voice mail. Maybe it’s time for a conversation with McFruitcake. I call the office number.

  A pleasant voice answers the line. “Paranormal Transmissions, Lori speaking.”

  “Hey there, this is Eli Walker. I need to speak to McNab.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Walker, McNab isn’t available, but I’m happy to take a message.”

  “Tell him Shay’s missing and to call me.” I figure it’s best if I get right to the point.

  “Where’s Carl?” she asks.

  “He’s missing too.” I want to get smart with her, but I see the flaw in that.

  “Okay, I’ll forward your message to McNab; is there anything else?”

  “No thanks.” I hang up the phone looking at the bottom drawer again.

  I need to get rid of that fucking bottle. I don’t care who gave it to me; it’s got to go. I grab the bottle out of the drawer and pull the card off tied with a ribbon around the neck. I open and it and read it for the thousandth time:

  Congratulations Son!

  I knew you’d pass the bar on the first try, I couldn’t be more proud!

  Save this bottle and we’ll celebrate when you finally come to work with me at the firm.

  ~Oliver

  I wrap my hands around the bottle tight, “Well Oliver, I guess that day will never come.” Opening the middle drawer I pull out a glass and slam it on the desk. The phone rings and I loose my hand from the bottle to answer the phone, hoping it’s Shay. “Hello?”

  “Put the bottle back in the drawer, Eli.” the voice on the other end instructs.

  “Who the hell is this?” I look around the room and get up to scan the house.

  “It’s McNab.” His tone is urgent yet dry; I hate talking to this guy.

  “McNab.” It falls out of my mouth like a rotten peanut.

  “What’s happening there, Eli?” He asks.

  “Everyone’s gone,” I say simply. “Shay took off while Carl should have been watching her, then Carl took off. He’s not answering his phone.”

  “He does that; its okay. He’s very focused on constantly being on her.” I don’t like the sound of that.

  “It would be nice if I knew where she was, I’m worried about her. What if Aiden comes back?” I ask fishing for a clue as to where Aiden is.

  “Aiden isn’t coming back; he’s not a concern. The Specter is the concern; her state of mind is the concern.”

  “Her state of mind is fine. She’s taking everything in stride,” I tell him; he doesn’t need to know that everything is out of control.

  “I thought you were supposed to be the sensitive one.” he chides, “You have no idea what’s going on in her head. She’s confused and scared. And what are you going to do about it?”

  “Sensitive one?” what the fuck is that supposed to mean? “I need to try to find her. I have been. I called her best friend. I've called her Dad.”

  “Trish is a liar; she can’t be trusted. And you know where you won’t find her?” He says this as if expecting that I already know the answer. He continues when I don’t respond, “In that bottle. Put it away and go find her.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Where should I look for her?” I’m bewildered; how does he know about the Johnny Walker? I quickly slide it back into my desk drawer.

  “Try her house,” he says.

  “No, it’s gutted; if she goes there, she won’t stay.” I know her too well. She couldn’t handle the smoke and ash.

  “Just try it, and if she isn’t there, check the crying tree.” Hearing him say those words hammer through my head and my stomach bottoms out; the last place I want to find her is the crying tree. That’s Aiden’s and her place. I don’t go there.

  “Are you coming?” Say no; I don’t want your fruity ass around here.

  “When I can. For now, just go find her. She could be in real danger.” With that he hangs up the phone. I really hate that guy; why can’t he just speak in plain English. He's worse than Carl.

  ***

  Shay

  Trish throws her cell phone on my lap, “Fucking Eli! I swear to God, Shay you have got to get the fuck away from both of them.” She says it emphatically. “Aiden shot you and how long before Eli kills you in a drunk driving accident like he nearly did with Jerry’s girlfriend.”

  “What?” I turn in the seat toward her. Trish’s face goes pale and she stares straight ahead at the road, “You knew about the accident?”

  “Yeah I knew,” she blows out a breath frustrated with herself for letting that slip.

  “How did you know?” I can’t believe she knew and never told me. What the hell kind of friend is she?

  “He called me to come and pick him up.” She lets her blond bangs fall across her eyes to shield herself from my stare.

  “Did you?”

  “Yes I did; he begged me to come and get him. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Trish, you always say no; what’s going on here?” I ask becoming more irate by the minute.

  “Eli
was going through a rough time when you wouldn’t take him back; I was just being a friend.” Her words are innocent but her tone is laden with guilt. Her cell phone rings.

  “Hold on, its Billy.” She answers the phone, “Hey sweetie, what’s up.” She listens for a moment. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I’m dropping a friend off. Don’t start without me.” She hangs up the phone with a gleam in her eye.

  “Who’s Billy? We didn’t go to high school with anyone named Billy,” I ask, bewildered at the break in her pattern.

  Trish gets a crazy gleam in her eye like she’s been very naughty. “Kevin just pulled an Aiden. He just packed some of his shit one day while I was at work and wouldn’t return my calls.”

  “He probably went back to his wife.” I remind Trish about Kevin’s marital status.

  “Thanks,” she says sharply. “I figured that was his way of breaking up with me.”

  “And let me guess: Adam was unavailable?” I really don’t like how she plays these guys, which is why relationship advice from her is so hard to swallow.

  “Shut the fuck up, Shay. I was feeling down about it, that and no one would let me see you at the hospital. I decided to take some down time, you know, from men.” She looks straight ahead at the road and then to me when we come to a stop light. “But my phone rang with an unknown number and I answered it.”

  “Yeah?” This is a new one.

  “Well it was Billy; it was a wrong number. But when I told him it was the wrong number he said ‘That’s a shame; you sound sexy as hell.’” Trish squeals and bangs on the steering wheel enthusiastically.

  “Trish, you totally fell for a line from a wrong number?” This is stooping pretty low, even for Trish.

  “Anyway.” Her eyes widen and she continues, “We talked for awhile and we decided to meet up!”

  “And he’s at your house now?” That’s creepy. “What is he like?”

  “Well that’s the thing; he’s kind of young.” She looks away.

  “How young?” God, if she’s just skipped from high school boyfriends to boyfriends in high school I’m going to slap her.

  “He’s like nineteen, I think.” She raises her eyebrows, “And he's amazing in the sack. You can’t keep a good man down.” She winks.

  “Nineteen? Seriously?” I mean I guess it isn’t that bad, Trish is only twenty-one but still, nineteen seems so young to me. “And you’ve already slept with him? Jesus Trish, you’ve probably scarred the poor boy for life.”

  “There’s only a few years difference between us; besides age ain’t nothing but a number,” she quips pulling into my driveway, “And I haven’t scarred anyone; this boy knows his shit. He’s teaching me lessons between the sheets.”

  “Trish, that’s just gross.” I mean sure I go back and forth between Aiden and Eli, but that’s different. There’s so much more to say but I’m stunned looking at my house in shambles. A gasp escapes me. Windows are boarded up in the front and there’s a blue tarp tacked to the roof.

  “Fuck me,” Trish says looking at my house. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave you here?”

  “Yeah, I’m just getting my car and probably going to head to my Dad’s house,” I lie.

  “Good, stay the hell away from Eli and Aiden if he ever shows his face around here again.” The anger squints her eyes into slits.

  “I know.” I’m too tired to argue, “Thanks for covering for me with Eli.”

  “My pleasure; any time I can stick it to one of those assholes makes my day beam with sunshine.” She waves her hands toward the sky.

  I get out of the car and grab my bag and new phone. I go straight to my car to convince Trish I’m not staying. She drives off down the road. I put my backpack on the hood and pull out my keys.

  My living room is an absolute disaster; it’s so surreal seeing it like this. I want to just drop to my knees and cry. This was my home; it represented my peace of mind, my security, my only hope of spending a moment alone. This can’t be happening.

  There’s blood smeared on the wall, and hand prints leave a trail that leads from the living room to the door. There are stains on the grout of the tile between the ash and soot. I instinctively know they are blood, but mine or Aiden’s?

  In the back bedroom it seems there is only water and smoke damage. Nothing is burnt. The bed is overturned and the things on my dresser have been disturbed. The jewelry box is on the floor next to the bathroom door.

  All the rings Aiden has given me are strewn across the floor. I carefully pick them up, looking at them one by one, revisiting every magical night that Aiden slid each one on my finger. I put them all back in the box and close the lid. The other side of the jewelry box is empty. My stomach bottoms out; I have to find it. Looking around, I search the floor with what little light I have. Shuffling through some papers and clothes on the floor near the door. The glow from my phone causes something to glint; I hurry and move closer.

  A relieved sigh rides out as I pick up the ring. There’s something missing though. I shuffle through the trash on the floor, lift the mattress and further ransack the whole room looking for the other ring that was tied to this one.

  I sit back against the dresser defeated, holding up the ring I found and dust it off. Trying to polish the ash away from the diamond, I give it a blow. Looking at it a little closer with my light shining directly on it, the beauty and simplicity is breathtaking. There’s more than just a sparkle to it; there’s always been something special about this one. The simple one-carat diamond flanked by sapphires that only wish they were as beautiful blue as his eyes.

  When I lift the lid on the right side of my jewelry box to put the ring away, I stop to look at it again. This one’s coming with me. I’m not sure why, but I want it to be near me.

  Checking the closet for clothes that might not smell of smoke, mold or mildew I come up empty. That’s great; it looks like there’s a trip to Goodwill in my future. I can’t very well go around wearing the same two outfits.

  Shit! I forgot to ask Trish about Raphael, and whether or not I still have a job. Oh well, that’s something I’ll have to deal with in the morning.

  The last light of day fades into the horizon. The sky is a brilliant orange and pink collage dancing to indicate that it’s time to go, but where? I walk outside the front door and look around down the street. My car is sitting in the driveway, calling to me. I’ve missed my car. It feels like it’s been years since I’ve driven. The thought occurs to me to just get in and see where it takes me. I ended up in Virginia Beach last time I did that. Problem is, I have no idea if I have any money in my bank account and I’m sure the car’s on empty.

  I look at my studio, the detached garage Aiden and I converted. Hey, that’s as good a place as any. The windows are all blacked out so no one would be able to see any lights on. It wasn’t damaged by the fire so the electric and water still work in there. It’ll do for tonight. I unlock the door.

  Spinning the dimmer switch the lights come up slowly and illuminate the room. There’s no artwork in here at all. It’s all gone. This is the first time I’ve been in here since Gary and Alice were killed. A chill rakes through my body; I try to push it aside. I’ve worked too freakin’ hard to let myself be afraid in my own studio. I spent too many years being scared; I’ll be damned if I let any of this get to me.

  My backpack drops on the floor and I go to my drafting table and find unopened inks with some new pens. Where did these come from?

  They are high quality and I immediately want to dig into them. This requires some music. I put my player on shuffle and sit back down at the table. Everything’s set up and I press my pen on the pad to see where it will take me. Hopefully it will be somewhere better than a quarter of a tank of gas.

  The music flows through me, I close my eyes to let a picture come into my mind. The imagery begins like a movie and I start to sketch. Carefully drawing the lines of Gabriel’s face, I notice he’s smiling and the ink is flowing freely through my pen, taking ov
er and drawing the scene.

  After four or five hours of sketching I put the pen down and rub my hand. It is the most bizarre thing; I can’t stop drawing panel after panel like I was some kind of machine, a comic matrix printer that spits out image after image.

  As per my routine, my pens are placed carefully by the sink and I hang each panel to observe the movement. I’m not quite sure I can incorporate this into any kind of comic. That is even if I have a job as a comic artist. Once all the sketches are hung I turn the lights up slightly to take them all in.

  There are many panels of Gabriel and I doing things we’ve never done together. Some our bodies are intertwined in erotic ribbons of lust and naughtiness. In others we are walking on a city street. There are also panels of Eli and me. They are all from the past. Some from when we were just kids running around in the sprinklers or playing at the law firm. Oliver would pretend to be angry with us, but I knew he secretly liked us being there. Genie kept a close eye on us.

  Aiden doesn’t appear in any of the scenes. I’m not sure why it surprises me. He clearly doesn’t want to have a part in my life. He's gone again. He has to know that this is the last time he’s leaving me.

  I never would have let him back in if all of this madness in my life hadn’t started happening. Gary and Alice, then Taffy.

  I lean against the drafting table and several more sheets fall onto the floor. I must have missed them. I hang them up and stand back to look at them.

  That’s Aiden. I guess he is on the brain. I laugh out loud a bit almost relieved to see him. There we are, standing in the rain kissing, I’ve drawn steam coming off of us; damn it must have been hot. The next panel is him on me on the living room floor still kissing. He's bracing himself up with one arm and his other hand is cupping my breast. My fingers are tugging at his waist band while my other hand is grabbing onto a tuft of his hair. Our eyes are locked into each other. I study the intensity of the gaze between us. There is so much love in this image. I want to stare at it for hours, study it, and reclaim that feeling.