FIERY ILLUSIONS (Keeper of the Emerald Book 2)

by B. C. Harris

  I told them that when I entered the hotel I couldn’t find Jasmin. After walking throughout the hotel, I was lucky enough to finally see the tall woman walking along a hallway. I guessed that she had kidnapped Jasmin. I said I found a hotel key-card on the cart of a cleaning woman. After trying several doors, I found Jasmin tied to a chair.

  Throughout the questioning my mother’s eyes and firm words prevented the police from being too aggressive.

  As I left the hotel with my mother, the police were going to begin to interview Jasmin. They had delayed talking to her because they were waiting for her mother to arrive. I know that Jasmin’s story and my story are not going to be the exactly the same, but I also know that Jasmin doesn’t have a clue why there were mirrors in the room. I’m now convinced that the mirrors blocked my emerald from finding Jasmin. If this is true, how did the Stalker know to do this?

  Having finished a sandwich, I’m ready to catch up on the news, both locally and in Rome. As well, I can’t wait to talk to Jamie and Michael. What did they discover about my aunt?

  A reporter on TV is talking about the amazing speed at which the rebuilding of the Colosseum is progressing. There are thousands of workers involved.

  A distinctive beep on my computer signals that someone is in our S O S chat room.

  It’s Jamie.

  WISDOM: Heard a little from Hunk about what happened. Were you questioned by the police?

  I type.

  GLOW: Yes, a long story. What did you find out about my aunt?

  As I wait for Jamie’s response, I smile at Squirt who is talking in his sleep. He keeps repeating the word “hotel”. I’m sure he can’t wait to get back to the Land of Limnits to tell all his friends about his adventure.

  WISDOM: You’re not going to believe this, but Comic Man and I found an obituary notice on the internet for Kelly McKenzie. Her maiden name was listed as Kelly Sylvester. She died in a car accident three weeks ago.

  I gasp. This can’t be a coincidence. I glance at the stairs, almost as if I expect someone to suddenly emerge. Looking back at Squirt and Radwin, I feel a little sense of comfort knowing that they are here to keep me company.

  I type.

  GLOW: We need to talk to this woman’s family. I need to verify that she was my aunt, and I need to find out what they know about my father.

  As I await Jamie’s response, I look at the pictures on the television of the reconstruction of the Colosseum. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. How can the exterior walls possibly be renovated so quickly and so beautifully?

  WISDOM: One problem.

  GLOW: What do you mean?

  I wonder what Jamie is referring to.

  WISDOM: Kelly McKenzie lived in London, England. If you want to find out more about her, you’re going to have to travel to London.

  London, I think. That makes perfect sense. That would explain why I detected a slight British accent in the voices of both my mother and grandmother. My family must be from England.

  WISDOM: And one more thing.

  One more thing. I wonder what else Jamie wants to tell me. What else has he discovered?

  WISDOM: Hunk texted me that he just spoke with Drama. She said that she told the police that she thought that the woman who kidnapped her was your mother.

  - 25 -

  LOCKDOWN

  I almost jump out of my chair when I hear a forceful knock at my front door. No door bell. This is a loud abrupt intrusion.

  Looking at the security monitors in front of me, I can’t see anyone outside my house. As Jamie and I are still talking to each other in our chat room, I tell him what is happening.

  GLOW: Someone is knocking on my door, but no one appears on the security monitors.

  The knocking continues, this time much stronger.

  WISDOM: Anything yet on your monitors?

  I survey the security monitors. Although I can see the area outside my front door, I can’t see anyone standing there.

  My sense of curiosity forces me to timidly walk up the stairs from the basement, my cell phone gripped tightly in my hand. As I reach the top stair, I wonder if I should shut the heavy metal door at the top of the stairs, lock it, and retreat to the safety of the basement and call my mother. Although I have experienced practice lockdowns at school, I never imagined I might be doing this in my own home.

  Hesitating at the top stair, a brief silence in between the knocking terrifies me. I can’t think of anyone who could possibly be at the door. My mother has a key. Even if she lost it, she would call me on her cell phone.

  I hug one of the walls as I creep towards the door.

  As I reach the door, I look at the video monitor above it. Although I didn’t see anything on the monitors when I was in the basement, I can now see two police officers.

  Upon further inspection I see that one of the officers is a woman. I remember both of them from the Westside Hotel.

  My mother told me not to open the door for anyone. At this moment, I’m sure that also includes the police.

  I wonder if something has happened to my mother. What if the police are here to tell me that my mother has been in an accident? Or, what if my mother has been arrested for kidnapping Jasmin?

  Uncertain what to do, I stand rigid like a statue. At times like this, my mind and body do not always cooperate very well with each other. I begin to play with the ends of my long hair.

  The knocking at the door starts again, only much louder.

  I call my mother on my cell phone as I retreat to the top of the basement stairs. I’m prepared to shut and lock the heavy door at the top of the stairs if I need to seal myself in my basement panic room.

  I never imagined that it might be the police that I was hiding from.

  “Emily, what’s wrong?”

  “Mom, there are two police officers banging on our front door. What should I do?”

  “Lock yourself in the basement. I’m on my way home.”

  - 26 -

  ACCUSATION

  I feel like I’m in prison. Heavy curtains cover the windows preventing anyone from seeing in. I know that there are thick bars underneath the curtains which would prevent anyone from entering the basement. The only way in or out of the basement is through the heavy metal door at the top of the basement stairs. Right now, it’s sealed shut.

  On the bank of small monitors above my computer, I can see a shot of every room in my house as well as several views outside. The police officers are still standing on my front porch. Using a joy-stick, I’m able to maneuver the outside cameras.

  There’s a police car on the street in front of my house. Angling the picture back to my porch, it looks as though the officers are about to give up as the male officer turns away.

  “No one is home,” I hear him say.

  As he begins to walk way from the house, the woman officer continues to bang on the door with one hand while ringing the doorbell with the other. Persistent, I think.

  Finally, the woman officer follows her partner. Although I can see them eventually enter their cruiser, they don’t seem to be in a rush to drive away.

  My computer beeps.

  I look at the S O S chat room. There are half-a-dozen messages from Jamie

  WISDOM: Everything okay?

  WISDOM: Maybe you shouldn’t answer the door.

  WISDOM: What’s happening?

  WISDOM: Answer me.

  WISDOM: Do you want me to call the police? Or your mother?

  WISDOM: Glow?

  I begin to type.

  GLOW: I’m okay. The police were at my door. I’ve called my mother. She’s on her way home. I’m safe in my basement.

  The cruiser is still parked in front of my house. Are the officers going to wait until someone comes home? They must have a serious issue with me or my mother. Probably more questions about Jasmin’s kidnapping.

  WISDOM: Good. I was worried that something had happened to you.

  On the TV I see something about Santtonnice. I turn up the volume.


  “The United Nations Security Force has called an emergency meeting to discuss the situation in Rome. Our American President has repeatedly said that the violence in Rome is unacceptable, although it appears that he’s unwilling to directly intervene.”

  My mother’s car screeches into our driveway.

  As she jumps out of her car, the police exit their cruiser.

  My mother wastes no time approaching the two police officers. Although she’s too far away from the front of the house for the video camera to pick up what she’s saying, she’s obviously angry in the same manner she was when she confronted Ms. Cathbert, my school vice-principal, about my suspension.

  Why is my mother so heated? What could the police possibly be saying to her that has her so upset?

  I notice that the woman police officer is losing her patience with my mother. At one point, she unlatches the top of the belt holster that covers her gun. What’s going on?

  My mother suddenly calms down. I wonder if she noticed the woman police officer touching her gun.

  The woman officer, who is short and stocky, looks like someone that you don’t want to mess with.

  The male officer points towards the front of our house. I see my mother glancing back and forth between the two cops as though she’s trying to decide what to do next.

  She nods as she turns away from the officers.

  The three of them are heading towards our house. I wonder what I should do. Should I open the basement door and greet them, or should I remain securely hidden? I decide to remain in the basement. I definitely do not like the female police officer.

  As the three of them reach the porch, my mother unlocks the door. The female cop looks directly into the video camera. Does she know that I’m in the house?

  Once they’re inside the house, my mother turns off the security alarm.

  She moves into our living room with the male officer following her. The female cop lingers behind them, her eyes stopping at every video camera she can spot. She looks like she’s trying to figure out why our house is wired like a prison.

  My mother sits in a single chair which suggests to me that she’s preventing either of the cops from getting too close to her. The male cop is taller than my mother and built like a football player. Both of the officers are physically intimidating.

  As the female cop enters the room she glances at my mother as though she’s appraising the situation. She pulls a wooden chair from the corner of the room. A few steps later, she has invaded my mother’s personal space.

  The male officer begins, “My name is Sergeant Robarts.”

  My mother doesn’t respond.

  “This is my partner Sergeant Druel.”

  Druel. Perfect name, I think. She has the demeanor and physical appearance of a pit-bull.

  My mother is calm. I can’t see any evidence of nervousness or fear on her part. Just like in the vice-principal’s office, my mother looks like she’s ready to take charge.

  “Ms. Sylvester, we would like to ask you a few questions,” Sergeant Robarts states in a manner that suggests he’s not asking my mother for permission to continue.

  Druel looks like she’s ready to strike.

  My mother brushes her short black hair with her hand.

  “Let’s start again today,” Robarts begins, opening a notebook and taking out a pen. “Where were you this afternoon?”

  My mother pauses. What’s she doing? All she has to say is that she was at work.

  “I had some private business to conduct,” my mother replies calmly and directly.

  Private business? What is she talking about? She was supposed to be at work.

  “Would you care to elaborate on the whereabouts of your private business venture?” Robarts replies.

  My mother shakes her head. “No, I would not.”

  I almost fall off my chair. Why is my mother being so evasive?

  “Were you at the Westside Hotel during this time?” the female pit-bull growls.

  “Yes,” my mother replies, then pauses before continuing as though she is purposely playing with the two police officers. “My daughter called me from the hotel. She said that it was urgent that I picked her up.”

  The two cops look at each other in a manner that suggests that my mother has avoided the question.

  The male cop shifts uncomfortably on the couch as though it wasn’t built for such a large man. “Let me rephrase that question,” he says. “Before your daughter called you for help, were you at the Westside Hotel today?”

  My mother looks directly in the officer’s questioning eyes and replies, “Yes.”

  Yes? What was my mother doing at the hotel before I called her?

  “Did you kidnap one your daughter’s friends?”

  My mother looks at the woman police with anger in her eyes.

  “No.”

  “Then what were you doing at the Westside Hotel?” Druel challenges my mother, almost falling off the flimsy wooden chair into my mother’s lap.

  “I can’t tell you,” my mother responds, as she sits up straight in her chair in a manner that suggests she’s reinforcing her determination to outlast the two cops.

  My mother was at the hotel before I called her? And now she’s refusing to answer what she was doing there. If she doesn’t start providing better answers, I suspect I will be visiting her in jail.

  “Ms. Sylvester,” Robarts interjects politely, sounding like a kind friend.

  Good cop. Bad Cop. I want to shout at my mother. They’re playing you like the stereotypical cops on any TV show.

  “Last Saturday evening, you picked up your daughter at Splendid Gardens,” the good cop continues, changing the subject.

  My mother nods.

  Where is this going? They have already indirectly inferred that my mother might have had something to do with the kidnapping of Jasmin. Are they now going to accuse her of murder?

  “Before Saturday evening, when was the last time you visited Splendid Gardens?”

  My mother does not hesitate in answering.

  “I was there the previous day.”

  The previous day? Are you kidding me? What was she doing there the previous day?

  “The previous day?” the bad cop moves in for the kill.

  “Yes, it had been quite a long time since I visited my mother-in-law who is a resident there. I was curious to see how she was doing.”

  “How long was it since you last visited her?”

  “You mean before that Friday?” my mother asks in a manner that suggests she would like to avoid this question.

  Shifting nervously in her chair, she replies, “Seven or eight years,” her voice trailing off.

  Druel pounces. “So you haven’t seen this woman in seven or eight years, then suddenly you visit on a Friday and then the very next day someone attempts to strangle the woman. Doesn’t this seem a little unusual to you?”

  My mother doesn’t respond.

  They have backed my mother into a corner. How will she get out of this?

  “Are you accusing me of something?” my mother sternly confronts the female police officer.

  I brace myself for the response.

  The female officer slides forward in her chair, almost to the point of being in my mother’s face.

  “Did you murder the worker at Splendid Gardens? Did you attempt to strangle your mother-in-law? Did you kidnap one your daughter’s best friends? Did you almost kill a hotel security guard?”

  My mother moves in a manner so that her face is only inches away from the female cop.

  “No,” she states forcefully, yet calmly. “So, unless you are prepared to charge me with some fabricated crime, then it’s time for you to get out of my house before I charge you with trespassing.

  Druel looks shocked by my mother’s response.

  Robarts stands, as though he has all the information he needs.

  “Come on. It’s time for us to leave.”

  If his announcement is intended to thro
w my mother off guard in some way, it doesn’t happen.

  My mother confidently stands, almost to the point of being arrogant, and leads the two police officers towards the front door.

  The pit-bull turns and snarls at one of the video cameras on the wall as though she knows someone is watching.

  I hear a beep on my computer. There’s another entry in our chat room. It’s Michael.

  COMIC MAN: Hunk gave me the license number of the black car that fled from the parking lot at the Westside Hotel this afternoon. I traced it back to a rental agency.

  I start to type, but Michael beats me to the punch.

  COMIC MAN: I just heard on a police monitor that the car was discovered on Elm Street.

  Elm Street? That’s only a block away from my mother’s office.

  On one of the security monitors in front of me, I watch the cops walking to their cruiser.

  I fly up the stairs and open the heavy door.

  My mother is waiting for me.

  We hug. A rarity.

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “I think that someone is trying to frame me for something I didn’t do.”

  “Why? Why would someone do this? It has something to do with the man in Rome, doesn’t it?”

  At first my mother doesn’t respond. Then she says, “Emily, stay away from that man.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” I lash out in anger.

  My mother looks deeply into my eyes.

  “If you kill him, you will kill me.”

  - 27 -

  A NEW REVELATION

  It’s more difficult for me to focus at school this morning than normal. Once again, Jasmin is not speaking to me. When I first saw her in the hallway this morning I could tell that she believed it was my mother who kidnapped her. A few minutes later when I saw Drew, he seemed to be uncertain how to react to me. Perhaps he’s caught in the middle of wanting to support me, yet also wanting to be there for Jasmin.

  Jamie and Michael, both sitting not too far away from me in our ancient history class glance at me every once in awhile as though they’re concerned for me. Overall, it seems that my friends are a little suspicious of my mother at the moment.