“So what do I do? Where am I going to stay?”
“Well, there are a number of shelters in the city. I’m sure they’ll be able to take you in for a couple of days or so.”
“A couple of days?” Silas sighed. “But where am I going to go after a couple of days?”
Taking pity on him, Belloc put his hand on Silas’s shoulder. “Look, it’s going to be all right.”
Silas looked up at him. “Can I stay with you…at least until you find out who I am?”
“With me?” Belloc said incredulously. “Oh, no, son. I don’t believe that’s possible.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s just...not.”
“I’ll help you figure out who I am. I can try to remember, make it easier for you. I can also clean. I can do some other work.”
“Work?” One of the officers stepped up to Belloc in order to whisper something in his ear. Belloc sighed. “It seems that the Boston Police Department is drastically in need of officers,” Belloc said. “You seem to be athletically sound, and it’s quite obvious that you’re familiar with...rough conditions, so here’s the plan: I’ll let you stay with me until we find out who you are, under the stipulation that you go to work for the Boston PD and pay me rent. Is that understood?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, it’s settled,” Belloc replied. “For now, we need to get you to a hospital.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Belloc will do.”
“Okay, Belloc.” Silas stood up and began following Belloc as he made his way out of the shelter.
“Wait,” the officer called out to Silas. “Your bag—don’t you want it?”
“My bag?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Belloc replied. “We need that. That’s evidence. Go grab it. It’s just a mess of clothes.”
Silas went back for his bag. He inspected its contents.
“See anything familiar?” Belloc asked.
“Not really.” Silas searched the pile of clothes, not finding anything of importance. Then he came upon a little bump near the end of the bag. What’s this? It was a small pouch. He snapped it open, and inside, he found two things: an envelope and a small bag full of little spiked pellets. He looked past the bag of spikes and noticed a few more hidden pouches all across the bag’s interior. He then looked at the envelope. On the top right it read: Silas de San Michel. Underneath his name was some Japanese writing. But more importantly, on the center of the envelope was the address of the intended receiver: Lucy Reilly, School of Arts, Boston, MA.
“What’s the matter?” Belloc yelled. “Did you find something?”
“Nothing important,” Silas quickly replied, putting the envelope back in the bag. “Just some torn paper.”
“We need to hurry up.”
“Right away.” But just then, a feeling came over Silas. He paused and lowered his head, searching deep within his thoughts for something he could remember about the name written on the envelope. A moment passed as he tried hard to visualize a face.
An image entered his mind. “Lucy?” he mumbled with excitement. “I know who you are.” He smiled, realizing he’d finally remembered something important to him. But this memory he kept to himself for the time being—something inside him told him to.
*
One Week Later
“OFFICER DE SAN MICHEL?” THE STOUT, OLD SERGEANT SAID. “De San Michel?” he called out sternly, grabbing a damp handkerchief and wiping the sweat off his pale-faced mug. Impatiently, he waited for an answer from the rookie standing post just outside the door.
No response.
The sergeant stepped out of the small bedroom and turned his head, honing in on his agitator. “You there! Officer de San Michel?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the young, uptight officer said as he whipped his head around. “I mean, my apologies, Sergeant.” He stood up from kneeling beside a young girl. “I thought you were someone else. What can I help you with, sir?”
“What is your name?”
“Pardon?”
“Your name, Officer—what is it?”
“Officer Silas de San Michel,” he said, straightening his fitted officer’s uniform. Silas had a lean, muscular frame, his dark eyes were big with long lashes, and his lips were plump and red. His distinguished nose fit perfectly in the middle of his prominent cheekbones, and his black, wavy mane pleasantly contrasted his fair skin.
“And when one calls out that name, do you acknowledge them?”
“For the most part.”
“Especially when it’s a superior?”
“That goes without saying.”
“Then why have you ignored me for the past five minutes?”
“Ignored?” Silas stepped back, realizing he’d been too focused on the little girl’s well-being. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you, Sergeant.”
“Well, you did.”
“Sorry again, sir,” Silas grumbled. “I was just trying to comfort the child, especially after what she’s been through.”
“You aren’t the girl’s mother,” the sergeant said. “Hurry up and get in here. We need more hands inside.”
Silas fumbled with the little trinkets he held in his hands, personal items that he shared with the young girl who sobbed uncontrollably, mourning the loss of her little brother. He wiped the sweat off his hands and made his way in, gently though, for Silas walked like no other man walked: soft and catlike. He managed to sneak up behind the sergeant, who waited for him just inside the door to the kids’ bedroom.
“Officer de San—” the sergeant blurted out as he turned around to reprimand Silas one more time, but got a shock in return, finding Silas just inches away from his face. “How did you— Step away, Officer!”
“As you wish,” Silas said, bypassing the sergeant and making his way inside.
The boy’s bedroom was large in a sense, but small compared to the other rooms in the spacious Victorian town home. The inside was lit up by a few lanterns: two on top of some nightstands and the other hanging on the wall. The boy’s bed had been quickly made up, the floors had been swept clean, and the furnishings dusted off. It was apparent that the boy’s family didn’t want the sudden kidnapping of their son to appear scandalous. Searching the room, Silas spotted a few officers pretending to search for evidence, bending over and clownishly searching under the most absurd of places.
Would the boy be hiding inside a music box?
Regardless, he made his way in, making sure not to lock eyes with the sergeant who stood next to a much younger captain. Silas noticed the open window. He moved towards it and instinctively ran his finger down the window’s damp, wooden frame.
Next to Silas, the captain stood alongside the sergeant, and talking as if Silas were invisible, he grilled the sergeant about the odd face that had just stepped inside the room.
“And who is he?” the captain said. “Why haven’t I seen him before?”
“He’s new, Captain. It’s his first day. He’s part of the wave of new recruits, the ones they’re just picking off the streets like rats.”
“Today is his first day and he winds up with us? But doesn’t he look a bit old for a rookie? I’m curious. Where did he work before this?”
“Well, he—well, I don’t quite know. I’ll ask him.”
Silas leaned against the window, pretending he was oblivious to their conversation. For the week that he’d been hanging around Boston, he’d come to understand that his five senses were very acute, and he could hear the whispers and mumbles given off by everyone inside the room.
“Officer?”
“Um…yes?” Silas said, playing along.
“The captain would like to know why you are older than most of the other rookies.”
“Because of my age, Sergeant.”
The sergeant turned to the captain. “Sir, Officer de San Michel would like you to know that he can be quite a smartass along with being a much older rookie.” He turned to Silas. “Did
I miss anything?”
Frustrated, Silas apologized. “Sorry about that, Captain. Please forgive me. Yes, I’ve done some work before this. I, um, was in...well—I worked in a ship.”
“A ship?”
“Yes, a cargo vessel. We sailed mostly around the Far East.”
“The East?” the captain said. “For God’s sake, why so far?”
“Why not?”
The captain looked him over, displeased with his attitude. “Carry on, then.”
“Sir,” Silas replied, walking away.
“Keep your eye on that one,” the captain said to his sergeant.
“Oh, no need for that,” said a filtered voice lurching around the entrance to the room.
The officers turned towards the door.
“Inspector Belloc?” the captain said. “How good of you to join us, though, I’m perplexed as to what brings you to this scene, such a minor crime for a homicide investigator to waste his time with.”
“Well, perhaps you can tell me why you have so many men scouring the room for a simple kidnapping instead of under my service, where they truly belong?” the inspector said, stepping into the light. As he approached the captain, he turned to Silas. “As far as Officer de San Michel goes—he’s with me.”
“With you?”
“Yes. I’ll vouch for him. He’s a friend of the family. He might be a bit strange, but he’ll do his job.”
“I hope so,” the captain said. “We were just saying how he seems old for a rookie.”
“Yes, well, it seems to me that we need to focus on more important matters.”
“Right,” the sergeant said, straightening up a bit.
Belloc turned back to stare down the little boy’s parents, who were hovering out in the hallway, worried about how the kidnapping would affect their status in their local community. “It seems that these social puppets decided to destroy all trace of evidence for their own superficial worries.” He turned back to the captain. “What is it that you have here?”
“To emphasize again, I don’t understand why you’re bothering with a kidnapping.”
“All mysteries are interconnected, and in all mysteries there is at least one clue drawing us closer to know that which is true. Never waste an opportunity, Captain.”
“Very well,” the captain replied. “Some time after midnight, the younger boy was taken.” He pointed to the older brother and sister, who were standing near a corner. “Those two over there heard their little brother scream, and so when they went to check on him, they found the boy hanging out the window.”
“Hanging from the window?” Belloc said. “Why was he doing that?”
“It seems he had no choice,” the captain said. “According to the siblings, someone grabbed their younger brother by the legs and swept him right out of the room.”
“With ease,” Silas said from a few feet away, snooping in on their conversation with his exceptional hearing.
“Pardon?” Belloc asked.
“I spoke with the older sister,” Silas said. “She said it was as if a giant had come in and taken her little brother with ease.”
“A giant?” Belloc said.
“Right,” the sergeant said. “A...giant. Thank you for your input, Officer, but shouldn’t you be looking under beds with the rest of the rookies?”
“Of course, Sergeant,” Silas said. “Sorry to intrude.” He turned to walk away, but before doing so, he turned back to Belloc. “The girl could’ve been speaking metaphorically—that is, that whoever took the child had the strength of a giant, so whoever he was was of considerable size.”
“He?” Belloc said.
“When we were out in the hallway, the girl mentioned that when her older brother turned to look at the writing on the wall, she could’ve sworn that the kidnapper peeked back at them for a split second, as if warning the kids. She said from what she saw in that moment, he was tall and masculine, and, oh, that he had the strangest eyes—they were luminous.”
“For goodness’ sake, the child has been traumatized,” the captain said. “God only knows what kind of mythical things she’d be able to come up with. Get back to your duties, Officer.”
Silas broke away from them as Belloc watched on, curious about Silas’s sudden impressive investigative skills. The inspector turned to the wall to look at the writing Silas had just spoken of. He approached it carefully, sort of mesmerized that any type of strange message would be found at a kidnapping scene. He read the words on the wall. “The factory breeds the harvest.” He paused and thought for a moment. “The factory?” He turned to the captain. “What do you think that means?”
“Well, we’ve started with the obvious,” the captain said. “My men have already searched for all the factories within a fifty-mile radius of the city. We have squads on their way. If the child is in one of those factories, we’ll find him.”
“No, for the boy to be in some factory would be too easy. This has to have some type of symbolic meaning.” He turned back to Silas, for he had an urge to ask for his opinion, but only stared at him as he went about his duties.
The young rookie walked across the room. He’d never been an officer before, but it all felt strangely familiar to him. An eerie feeling rushed through his veins, signaling to him that he’d been in similar situations before, as if he was accustomed to using his intuition to seek out certain answers, secrets only he could decipher.
All week long, he’d been struggling to regain his memories, as if his former life had tragically died and he’d been recently reborn. It was a lot for him to bear. The past few nights, he had trouble sleeping, waking up in sweat-ridden interludes, breathing heavily, with his hands trembling. He only wished he knew something about himself, something of his mysterious past.
Yet in that present moment, where he walked around searching for clues, he felt comforted, as if he’d tapped into a secret memory from his former life. Because of this one feeling, he let himself be guided by his inner instincts, even if they felt a bit unorthodox.
He stepped inside the older siblings’ bedroom, probing for anything out of the ordinary. There, he found two officers wasting time, half-heartedly pretending to search for clues. “Not much luck?” he said to one of the officers.
“There never is with these things.”
“Oh? You’ve done many of these, I suppose?”
“Well, not a lot, just the recent ones in the past week.”
“Recent ones? There were more like these?”
“Oh, yes, many more.”
“How many kids were taken?”
“About five in total.”
“Five in one week?” Silas said, rubbing his head. “And no one has found anything yet?”
“Nothing.”
“And the words on the wall? Were those found in any of the other kidnappings?”
“No, that’s new.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s the matter?”
“No, it just feels as if this is more than just a kidnapping.”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know yet,” Silas explained. He stepped away from the officers in order to thoroughly search the room. “There has to be something. There’s always something.” He could tell that inside his mind there was an instinct that was working like clockwork, and trusting this gut feeling, he closed his eyes and began to take deep breaths. He extended his ears a bit, trying to catch all the noise in the two rooms, listening for something out of place. Instantly, he heard the sound of various squeaks emanating from the wooden floor as the officers walked around the little boy’s room next door.
That’s odd. So much squeaking for such a small room.
It was abnormally loud, so loud that he could hear the squeaks even with all of the other commotion surrounding him.
“That’s it,” Silas said. “The floor squeaks; it resonates all the way over here.”
“What are you saying?” one officer blurted out.
“I have a hunch,”
Silas explained as he walked into the next room, where Belloc stood conversing with the captain. As he made his way in, he was met with the sergeant’s cold stare. Silas called out to Belloc. “Inspector? If you please, for one second.”
Belloc grabbed his cane and helped himself across the room and into the older siblings’ bedroom. “What is it, Officer de San Michel?” he said. “Did you find something?”
“No. Well…maybe. It’s the floor in both rooms. It squeaks.”
“Please tell me you have more than that,” said the captain, who had followed Belloc into the room.
“Let him speak, Captain,” Belloc countered.
“See, I listened for a moment,” Silas said, “and I realized that the floor doesn’t have to squeak.”
“Go on,” Belloc said.
“Well—” But Silas was unexpectedly interrupted by a young woman entering the room.
“Who’s this?” she asked.
“Oh, there you are,” Belloc said. “I’ve been waiting for you. This is the man I was speaking to you about. This is Officer Silas de San Michel.”
The young woman stepped closer to the group. She was gracefully slender with a robust blonde mane. Her complexion was fair, and her catlike blue eyes complemented her whimsical smirk. She was dressed in dark brown pants, a fluffy shirt, and a black robe-like coat.
The minute she revealed herself, Silas stepped back a couple of feet, feeling a bit shy. His heart raced, and he became weak in the knees. It was then that Silas realized that whoever he was in his former life, he was certainly insecure around beautiful women. So as a reflex, he crossed his arms, scrunched his shoulders, and kept his feet close together. A wave of insecurity blanketed him like armor.
“Okay, so that’s him,” she said. “So, if he’s a rookie, why is he acting like he’s magically trying to solve the case?”
“Good question,” the captain added.
“Don’t mind them, Silas, especially her,” Belloc remarked. “She’s my assistant, Posy Chapman. She helps me with my investigative work, all of the legal preoccupations.”
The Valentine Circle Page 2