“That’s it. That’s a good girl,” Arlette said with a smile.
She stirred one-half teaspoon of sugar into her coffee as Lind perused the local newspaper.
Jessica watched as the blue jay landed on the windowsill behind Arlette. It danced back and forth along the wood trying to find its grip. Jessica finished her bacon and took a bite of dry toast scraped with hardly enough butter. She peeled back her lips, chewing and grating her tongue against her teeth then forced a painful swallow. She shook her head, dropping the toast on the table beside to her plate. It landed, butter side down, on the pristine, mauve tablecloth and Arlette huffed, grabbing it up and attempted to rub the cloth clean with a dishtowel.
Jessica, oblivious to Arlette’s disapproving look, poked at the small pile of gelatinous, crumbled eggs.
“C’mon, eat your eggs now.” Arlette was in a hurry and anxious to get their day started. The excitement felt almost too much for her to handle and her giddiness was quickly giving way to impatience.
Jessica did not like the look of the bright yellow congealed glop. She had never eaten an egg in her life and she was not easily convinced to try new things; food or otherwise.
Lind folded his paper and sipped his coffee. From above the cups rim, something caught his eye and he smiled, “What do we have here? Would you look at that!” he said, astonished.
Arlette followed his gaze, pivoting in her chair to look back over her shoulder. She cringed and quickly turned away.
“Vile birds, blue jays. Nasty. What is that thing doing?”
Lind chuckled in awe of the vibrant creature.
“So blue…” He had always marveled at birds, their beauty and their freedom.
“They’re horrid!” she snapped. “Why, I was showing a house once and a jay had a nest built in the eaves above the porch. Probably mite infested. Damn thing chased me. Nearly pecked my head to hamburger by the time I reached the car and slammed that door shut.” She shuddered again. “Get rid of it, Carl.”
“And how do you propose I do that? It’ll fly away. Ignore it.” He returned to his paper and mumbled beneath his breath, “It’s only a bird.”
Arlette would have none of it, “Carl… Before it builds a nest out there… Go… Shoo it away! Do something.”
Carl grumbled and reluctantly slid his chair backwards, scraping the wood floor. He folded his newspaper, taking it with him, but the moment he opened the door the jay swiftly flew in past him, its wing knocking his eyeglasses askew on his face, as it made a beeline for Jessica.
Arlette howled and ran from the table, her arms flailing in the air.
The bird hovered above the table as if to assess its surroundings. Jessica giggled and it fluttered to perch on the little girl’s shoulder. Arlette threw a dishtowel, which enveloped the jay like a net and sent it hurling to the ground.
“Carl…!” Arlette looked to him, standing dumbfounded and unmoving. She huffed angrily and reached for the first weapon within reach; a frying pan, still encrusted with burnt remnants of Jessica’s barely eaten breakfast.
Wielding it high above her head, a guttural roar escaped her as she raced toward the animated rag encapsulating the captive bird. She thrust her arms upward; both fists wrapped about the still warm, iron handle, and just as she brought the pan downward, two wooden chairs shot out from beneath the table in perfect synchronicity and directly into her path.
The weight of the heavy iron would not allow Arlette to put on the breaks; the momentum of her delicate frame propelled forward. She dropped the pan just short of the bird as she crashed into the chairs. The bird flapped free from its binding and took flight as Arlette fell over one of the chairs head first.
Lind scrambled after Arlette, too late to catch her fall, but rushing to her aid, nonetheless.
The bird came to rest on Jessica’s shoulder as Lind brushed Arlette off and attempted to check her for injuries. She said nothing but stared, crumpled on the floor, with eyes locked on Jessica and the jay.
Lind fussed with Arlette’s clothing tidying her and getting her back up on her feet.
“Lettie, are you all right?” he asked.
Arlette snapped out of her trance and slapped his hands away from her.
Lind stopped fussing with her. He realized quickly, she was looking at him with an off-putting glint in her eyes. He froze, looking back at her and awaiting a clue.
“I told you,” she muttered softly. “The chairs, Carl, did you see it? Do you realize what we just witnessed?”
Carl Lind turned to look at the chairs and then to Jessica. Caught in the calamity of it all; the chairs had been the least of his concern. He looked back to Arlette; both of them now slightly enchanted.
“See Carl, I was right, she’s the same.” With a soft grin and an awestruck expression, she looked past him at Jessica, “She’s just like her.”
Julien turned the Lexus up a mountain road. He knew, if his blind intuition was correct and this was the correct road, the house would be white with black trim. He knew he would recognize the property, once he saw it. He rummaged through the clues seen in his dreams, tallying landmarks; a pond, a barn, ducks, a widow’s walk. He felt sure he would recognize it the moment he saw it again, if only he could find his way there.
As he maneuvered up the mountain road he felt a pang of anxiety. It was difficult for him to keep going as everything in his body demanded he turn around. Subtle familiarity intensified, as the path up the steep incline seemed to never end. It swerved and curved, and forced him too close to the cliff’s edge along the way, but he forged ahead unrelentingly.
A ladder...
THE ladder.
As he drove, he attempted to shake off the intrusive thoughts now haunting him. His heart racing, visions came at him rapidly, faster than he could cast them away. Suddenly he felt himself hit the ground. Blood pooled between his hands, drizzling from his lips as he braced himself in the dirt. He spat more blood then wiped at his mouth with the back of one hand, listened to the slow, lumbering steps of Jérome coming closer behind him.
The SUV met the top of the winding road as Julien chased away the vivid memory. His view opened to a clearing. He fought back the resonating fear left by the memory and stopped the car. Collecting himself, he slowly raised his eyes and there, in all its glory, stood the ornate Victorian. He paused to study the expanse of land.
The property was vast; an enormous barn set back and far off to his left, a pond with a wooden bridge, and further back behind it all, an orchard of apple trees. There were no cars in sight and no one walking around the land. He drove slowly along the graveled, circular driveway. As he approached the Victorian, he found many of the windows were boarded tight. Julien sat there, overwhelmed. With not a shred of doubt, he knew he had reached his destination.
He parked the car a few yards shy of the wrap around porch encircling the home. He sat staring at the front door. A sudden jab of pain and his leg began to ache; he had been sitting in a car and on the road for too long. He stepped out to stretch and took a few awkward steps away from the SUV. He opened the back door and removed his cane.
It is in your head…
The shrill cry of a hawk pierced the eerie stillness of his surroundings. He turned around to take in the view then watched the hawk disappear in the distance. He took a few more steps, relying heavily on the cane. Being there, as with his dreams, intensified his disability.
This is not in your head...
He moved to the porch steps and took hold of the banister. A chill ran the length of his spine as he looked up at the porch swing. His mind wandered and he thought of his grandfather tapping his pipe into the old rusted can. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to remember the old man’s face. He realized just how much he missed this man, who had meant everything to him as a child, yet now, amid the bustle of a busy, chaotic life, he rarely took the time to think of him.
Julien’s pleasant memory broke to a vision of his father coming through the trees. He opened his
eyes and both memories faded in an instant. He looked behind him and took in the property again then quickly, driven by an unknown force, left the base of the steps and headed in the direction of the pond.
The closer Julien came to the structure the more difficult he found it to walk and the more frustrated he became. Out of breath, he refused to give up. He took the old bridge; a straight shot to the barn doors, but he stepped onto the wood, an instant cacophony erupted through the early morning stillness. He spun around to face seven large, white ducks, quacking and waddling his way, followed by a sudden explosion of cackling behind the barn. Julien’s heart pounding in his chest, he chastised himself for being so jumpy.
A barn…
Animals…
Normale, non?
Stop being so foolish.
He looked to the coop as the ducks swarmed around him. He could see only a small portion of the structure’s side wall from where he stood.
This is the place….
I found it…
I do not know how, but I found it.
The ducks quieted down and began rooting in the dirt. The chickens continued their symphony of clatter as Julien had second thoughts and decided against the old bridge. He headed for the coop instead.
The closer he came to the wire enclosure, the more deafening the noise grew. The birds scattered in every direction as he appeared beside the messy enclosure. At first, over the booming cackle, he missed the low, guttural snarl coming from behind the trees, in the orchard.
Julien turned around to find a large dog, its head held low, tail wagging slowly just inches above the ground. A deep chesty growl escaped the golden retriever’s wrinkled muzzle, and as it inched closer, it broke into harsh, gnashing barks.
Julien took an immediate inventory of his surroundings; there was no place he could go fast and only his cane to use as a weapon. He couldn’t run, even if he wanted to, and he knew that would be a mistake, regardless. He slowly raised the cane, holding it like a baseball bat at his right shoulder. He took a limping step in the direction of the aggressively approaching dog, hoping it would back off, or at least be stopped in its tracks.
“Go away dog,” he lowered his voice and took another step. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He took another step.
I don’t want you to hurt me either.
The dog stopped, his eyes locked on Julien.
With stiffened front legs, its paws popped up off the ground as it emitted a forceful bark that lifted its tense frame. It made the brazen display again and again as Julien prepared to defend himself. He noticed quite a bit of white ticking, peppering the blond fur around its eyes and muzzle.
It is old…
Not old enough.
Julien took one more debilitated step toward the dog.
“Go… Get out of here!”
The dog licked its lips nervously and took a few steps backward before dropping to the ground on its belly. They stared at each other for several seconds.
Julien wasn’t sure what to make of the dog’s sudden posture.
“Go on!” he tried again.
In a flash, Julien was struck by another vision. A galloping dog tore through a kitchen. His mind continued to whirl and now the dog was beside the pond, nuzzling a small, white bundle. He felt panic rise and he tried to shake the vision off, only to be bombarded by another. The dog leaped at him on a bed, nearly landing on top of him. The fragments of memory were too small to make sense of. He leaned back against the coop. His head ached from picking through a muddled mess of information, beginning with the first call from the police, the day prior.
Julien looked over at the pond then back to the dog.
“I know you?” he caught himself saying out loud.
The dog flopped onto its side then, like a turtle on its back, kicking its legs in the air. It struggled to right itself then stood back up. It stepped, less cautiously than before, in his direction and tossed its nose into the air playfully, before laying down again. It bounced right back up and took a few more steps toward Julien; tail held high and wagging.
He recognizes you...
Julien tested the dog by patting his thigh invitingly and the dog immediately trotted up to his side. It danced around Julien, who guardedly allowed it to sniff the back of his hand.
“I do not remember you well, but I do remember you. You need to work on your greeting skills.” Julien patted the dog, scratching its ears, much relieved to be making friends.
A moment later, Julien made his way to the barn with the dog by his side.
The wooden door swung open and Julien paused, taking it all in. The musty smell of old hay and stagnant air rushed over him as he stared into the darkness. He took a deep breath and then entered the barn. The dog took a step backward and began to bark. Julien turned to quiet the golden, but it continued to back away and began whining between bursts of high pitched yaps.
“Calme toi! Shhh…What is the matter with you, crazy thing?”
The dog whined again and lay down in the dirt, resting its chin on its paws. Julien looked for a light switch but found none. He walked further into the building. The dog lifted its head and offered one more startling yap. Julien turned and pointed a warning finger in its direction. The dog whined and dropped its chin between its paws again.
The barn was dark enough to make navigating between piles of garbage risky and Julien used his cane to shove debris out of the way. The sun seeped through cracks in the wood, illuminated small sections of the structure. He came to a ladder and looked up, following the rungs. He placed his hand on its wood and was instantly overcome with a sensation of vertigo. He knew immediately that this was the ladder from his dreams, the ladder he blamed his injury on, while talking to Ed Bale, and the ladder Rachael demanded he remember; though he had refused to do so. He let go of the rung and turned away.
On the back wall, a small patch of light caught the tines of a pitchfork hanging alongside a stack of hay bales. Julien moved toward it and the dog jumped up in a frenzy, barking and making a fuss. It stepped a few feet into the barn, kicking up dust in its agitated state. Julien, caught off guard, didn’t know what to make of it. The golden fell quiet and backed out of the barn again. The chickens erupted from behind the coop door. The dog whined and turned in a circle, nervously, but Julien just stood there. The dog gave him one last hesitant glance then bolted off toward the tree line.
P’tain…
Good, go!
You give me a heart attack.
With the dog gone, Julien suddenly felt less confident in the barn. He managed to find the property but, with no sign of Jessica or Arlette, he feared he was only wasting his time. If not for the animals, it appeared no one was living on the property. He decided to leave, drive to town and see if he could find out where Arlette might be. By the time he reached the barn door, he realized he was no longer using his cane, carrying it by his side, free from pain. He closed the barn doors, large flakes of snow began to fall around him.
Great.
He returned to the SUV and found his way back down the mountain, heading for Main Street.
Arlette turned the Mercedes up the mountain road. They were running way off her planned schedule, due to the incident with the bird, but she refused to be upset on such a glorious day. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Jessica seated quietly in the back seat. The snow was beginning to leave a thin coat on the roadside and she made a mental note to get on Carl for not putting the chains on her car when she asked him to days earlier. She had a sense about these things and predicted a long, harsh winter with early snowfall, but Carl never trusted her instincts; though he was always quick to say she had been right, after the fact.
She stopped the car at the base of the porch steps, tied a scarf over her hair and stepped out. She walked around to Jessica’s side, where she unbuckled the little girl’s seatbelt.
“Well now, come...” She took Jessica’s hand, “Let’s go find your sister.”
CHAPTER
SEVEN
A procession of road signs made for an easy trip to town. Relying on diluted memories and intuition had been exhausting and Julien welcomed the relief. He circled the center island splitting Main Street in Kings Hollow proper, where a statue of Bing Vandermark stood atop a fountain, surrounded by benches and wild flowers, on an open grassy plot. He came to a stop at the curb, parking in front of a bank. He looked around, lost and unsure of where to start. While his patience was wearing thin, he knew better than to storm into the Town Hall building, demanding Arlette Vandermark’s current whereabouts.
What if they recognize me here?
Will this be a problem?
His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Seated behind the steering wheel, he shifted his weight, awkwardly removing the phone from his cargo pants. He glanced at the caller I.D.
Matt…
Shit!
About to answer the call, he stopped himself; Ed Bale’s voice replaying in his mind, “They’ve already tapped your phone line…”
Julien declined the call and placed the phone in the glove compartment. He looked around again, scanning the small shops then left the car heading straight for a drug store.
Ed Bale arrived at the precinct, early for his shift. It had been a nearly sleepless night, tossing and turning over the Grenier case. While he felt sure Julien had nothing to do with his daughter’s disappearance, something was just not sitting right for him. The more research Bale did, the more it rang true that Julien could not seem to catch a break. Beginning with his wife’s rape and subsequent mental health issues, financial difficulties for a period of time following the home invasion, Julien’s clearly disabling fall, and now the abduction of their six-year-old daughter; the Grenier family had experienced one tragedy after the next. For Ed, thirty-three years on the force; twenty-two as a detective, had taught him to rely on, and trust in, his gut, and while his gut told him Julien would not have hurt his daughter, it also told him there would be more tragedy to come.
WISHBONE II: ...Some Wishes Should Never Be Made Page 6