Jessica’s body lay motionless on the floor. Sarah cooed and brushed the hair from the little girl’s eyes. She shook the box of bones aggressively rattling them, just inches above Jessica’s face. She grunted and mumbled nervously; her eyes darting around the room. She fell back onto her rump, crossing her ankles and hugging her knees to her chest. She sat there rocking as the blue jay, perched on an old curtain rod above the window, quietly watched.
Ed passed a one-hundred dollar bill to each of the men. He thanked them and they went on their way. He stuck his cold, wind burned hands in his pockets and pushed forward the material of his jacket, to close off the gap in the lapels. Daylight was disappearing fast and the air was damp and frigid. He went to his car and slipped inside, closing the door. He started the engine; a blast of cold air blew from the vents and he dialed up the heat, waiting for the forced air to warm. He pulled away from the tree line and paused at the base of the road leading up the mountain. He wondered if the plow had been a waste of time and money; the chances of Julien being up there were slim, with days of heavy snowfall shutting down access. Regardless, his curiosity got to him and he accelerated up the winding path, cautiously taking the curves. He felt his tires slip against the remaining, thinly packed layer of snow, compressed by the plow, and he slowed down, again having second thoughts. The road was steep and not wide enough to turn around; there was no choice but to reach the top. As he came around a particularly tight curve, he glanced down the cliff’s edge. Several broken trees gave way to the rising moonlight, seeping in and casting shadows between them. Tire tracks in the snow indicated a recent accident, but he could see no debris. Someone had driven off the road since the last storm and he couldn’t help but think of Julien. According to his lieutenant, no one had heard from him and there had been no activity coming from his cell phone. If he didn’t find him soon, there would be an all-points bulletin put out for Julien Grenier and he would be considered missing and possibly on the run; a suspect in the case of his own daughter’s abduction. Ed shook his head; it still felt wrong. As he moved slowly up the mountain, he promised himself, if his gut failed him, he would be the one to arrest Julien, himself, and take him into the station.
Ed reached the mouth of the driveway and came to a halt. A blue haze of moonlight illuminated the stately Victorian home. He sat staring at it, with no longer even the slightest trepidation that Rachael Grenier had conjured the home in her fantasies; he had the right place. He looked to his left. A structure loomed in the distance. He traced the shadowy outline of a barn as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. He reached for the white paper bag on the passenger seat and brought it to his lap. He consumed his remaining ice-cold dinner as he sat watching the house. The house was still and dark, with no sign of occupancy. On the opposite side of the circular driveway, he could see where the plow had come to a stop. A large mound of snow at the base of the porch steps had forced them to turn around. He looked down at his phone. He couldn’t put off calling the station for much longer. He slipped it into his pocket, wiped his hands on a napkin that he then tossed to the passenger seat. He put the car in drive. His first thought was to leave, find a motel and return in the morning. He was deep in the Catskill Mountains, where strangers driving up on private property in the dark might not be welcome. With no way of knowing if Julien was there, he looked for a spot to turn around, but the plow had created a tall barrier of snow lining the sides of the driveway, making it impossible to turn on the narrow trail. He was forced to drive at least as far as the clearing left by the plow, like it or not. He moved the car ahead taking in what little he could make out in the darkness. As he neared the house, his eye caught a minute glint of chrome sparkling off his headlights and jutting from the snowbank at the base of the porch. Buried to the windows, in the mound that had forced the plow to turn back, a black SUV sat camouflaged by the night sky.
Dr. Scott scribbled notes in a patient’s chart and handed it to the young nurse. He excused himself then walked off to wait for the elevator.
Debby returned to her desk. She gathered charts, ready to make her rounds, and stopped at the first room on her right.
The patient, a nineteen-year-old, waif of a girl, laid propped on her bed, knees drawn up and reading. She looked up and shook away her dark, shoulder length hair.
“Oh, there you are,” she said dryly as Debby entered the room.
“Yes, Lucia, I do get a day off now and then. I see you gave them crap about taking your pills again?” Debby waved Lucia’s chart in the air.
Lucia rolled her eyes. A slow smile curled her lips.
Debby smirked and raised an eyebrow.
“That shit messes with my energy, man.” Lucia’s unwashed, hair fell over one side of her face again.
Debby cupped each of her breasts, “Last I checked, these puppies were real…ain’t no man here, missy.”
Lucia sucked at her teeth, “Whatever. You know what I mean…Debra. I don’t like the new one. I can’t hear him talking if I take that shit,” she quickly tried to change the subject, “You missed a bunch of crazy shit goin’ on ‘round here…Stanley coldcocked the new chick.”
Debby sat down on the edge of the bed. She took the book from Lucia’s legs, scanned the cover and dropped it back on the girl’s lap.
“That’s the idea, Baby Cakes,” she winked. “It means we finally found the right drug…the one that works.”
“I feel like the walking dead on that stuff. I miss all the crazy shit that goes on in this dump.” Lucia sat up, “Are you wearing nail polish?”
“Yes, I am.” Debby fanned out her fingers for examination, “Do you like…? It was my anniversary this weekend.” Debby stood up and moved toward the door.
“I thought…I mean…”
Debby paused to look back at her sitting cross-legged on the bed, “Hmm?”
“Didn’t you say…?” Lucia hesitated.
“That my husband passed away?”
The girl nodded.
“He did. Three-years-ago,” Debby smiled then patted the doorframe and disappeared into the hall.
Lucia laid back, picking her book up, “See! And I have to take zombie pills,” she huffed and found her page.
Debby peeked into the next room. Stanley lay still with his back to her. She wasn’t about to wake him and risk getting the patient amped up again. She moved his chart to the bottom of her stack for later and took Rachael’s chart into her hand. She passed an open supply closet and closed the door then turned into Rachael’s room.
The curtain was drawn partway around the foot of the bed. She reached for it and rolled it an arm’s length back. She stood at the foot of an empty bed. Her eyes shifted to the bathroom. She placed the stack of charts on the blankets, crumpled at the foot of the bed; several slid to the floor. She stepped in front of the open bathroom and grabbed hold of the door frame; the room was empty. Debby slowly stepped back; her mind debating the possibilities. She turned and rushed into the hall. She went from room to room, glancing in and hurriedly moving to the next. She ran past the nurse’s desk straight to the elevators.
Lucia stood looking at Debby from the doorway, “I told you there was crazy shit goin’ on up in here.” She turned back, disappearing into her room.
Debby pointed to the younger nurse, “Get Dr. Scott on the line. Rachael Grenier is gone.” She pounded at the elevator buttons repeatedly.
The doors opened and Debby charged in. She hit the lobby button then the button to close the door several times.
“Dammit!” She fidgeted in place as the doors inched closed. She banged on the button several times again. She paced in the elevator car, glancing up at the slowly descending numbers.
“Dammit, Rachael,” she muttered.
The doors opened and Debby glanced around the lobby as she ran for the doors. She excused herself, passing through a group of visitors standing in her way then hurried out to the parking lot.
The security guard looked up as she dashed out and spun arou
nd to face him. Out of breath, she paused, “Did you see…a woman…a patient?” The cold air formed condensation with each panting breath.
The guard looked at her confused. He had no idea what she was talking about.
Debby looked around and turned back to him, “A patient. Did you see anyone come out…a woman, brownish hair, my height?”
The guard nodded, “Oh, the one that got away the other day?”
“Yes, yes…she’s gone again…did anyone come out…someone alone…a patient?”
“No ma’am. I don’t think so. I would have noticed…”
Debby hurried to the street. She looked up and down the busy avenue, cars whizzing by. The road was lined in small mounds of dingy blackened snow. Not a person on foot in sight.
Dr. Scott hurried toward her, “Do you see her?”
Debby shook her head.
“How the hell…?” Dr. Scott shook his head. “Get back inside and get the police on the line.” He pointed to the door angrily.
“Do you have that detective’s name? He knows her…maybe I should call him?” Debby asked.
“Yes, call 911 first, before she kills herself, and then call Detective Bale. His number…his card…it’s somewhere on my desk. Should be right there.” Dr. Scott removed his keys from the rear pocket of his slacks, “I’m going to drive around…see if I can find her.”
Ed stepped out of his car. He took a good look at the house. Up close, the size was daunting and the architecture was remarkable; though, perhaps slightly out of place in the country. He approached the tiny metallic glint that first caught his attention and brushed at the SUV’s buried fender. He bent down, gauging where the license plate might be. He used his foot to dig at the mound of snow, scraping it away with his heel and struggling to keep his balance. The corner of the plate appeared and he bent down to scrape away more snow with his bare hand. He removed a pad and pen from his pocket, jotting down the plate number. The sequence seemed familiar, but he would run the plate regardless, leaving nothing to chance. He glanced at the porch steps and worked his way out of the snow to the cleared path. He kicked snow off his shoes; his socks now damp. Looking down, he noticed a dark patch amid the pristine white; his car lights aimed slightly too high to clearly distinguish the hue. He bent over for a better looks at what appeared to be a substantial spill. He tapped at it with his finger. It felt thick and syrupy on the crystalized snow. He looked around and found smaller, similarly discolored patches scattered about the area. He scooped up a small sampling and moved closer, cupping it up to the car’s light. Watery snow melted, flowing over his palm and taking the puddle of partly congealed red liquid with it. A diluted stream touched the edge of his white shirt sleeve and quickly soaked in, spreading over his wrist. He quickly reminded himself, he was in hunting country. He brushed his hands off in the snow and turned around to look at the house once more. Not a sound came from the Victorian. The pitch black windows revealed nothing; several others, boarded up tight. He looked around on the ground again and noticed an imprint, and then a few more. Numerous foot prints, ranging from a very large boot to a petite female heel, overlapped one another, making them difficult to decipher. Then he saw it. One solitary print of a very small tennis shoe, less than the length of his hand. He stood up immediately and approached the steps. He listened to the floorboards creak as he neared the front door. He opened the screen; a loud screech of its springs unnerved him. He listened, but heard nothing from inside. He knocked at the door and waited. He knocked again, louder. No response. He tried the door knob and it popped open. He closed the door again.
Ed looked back at Julien’s SUV. A recent accident on the mountain, broken trees with tire marks trenched in the snow, a small, child-sized foot print and a dark red liquid he had no doubt was spilled blood. He removed his phone from his pocket and walked back to his car. Seated sideways in the driver’s seat, he dialed the station and had the SUV’s license plate run. Within minutes the clerk confirmed the vehicle was registered to Julien Grenier. Bale got up and closed the car door. He returned to the porch and opened the door again. The house was dark, all but the glowing embers of a recent fire.
He stood in the open doorway and knocked on the door again, “Police. Is anyone here?” he called, but no one responded. “NYPD…I’m coming in.”
Ed unsnapped the holster of his weapon, in the event it would be needed. He took a few steps into the room. He had no search warrant, but enough to constitute probable cause. Everything in his gut told him to enter that house; there had been trouble. He was out of his jurisdiction and would have a lot of explaining to do, if it turned out Julien or his daughter were not in the house and no one was in danger. The more he tried to convince himself to go find a motel and wait for a search warrant and backup, the more he felt compelled to forge ahead. The house was meant to appear empty, yet it didn’t, and with each step he took, he expected to find Julien and Jessica, somewhere on the floor, perhaps injured or worse. He walked through a doorway and felt along the wall. He found a switch and turned on the lights. He took a quick look around the kitchen. There were plates in the sink and a box of crayons on the counter. Ed turned back out through the doorway. He stood at the base of the staircase. Light from the kitchen cast shadows halfway up to the landing.
“Hello?” he called out again. “Julien?” Ed took the first step, listening intently as he moved to the second floor.
Julien woke with the feeling he had missed something. He listened intently to the stillness of the house. The fire was dying and the room was growing cold. The blankets were folded over at his side and he knew Sarah had been there at some point, but he had no recollection of it. He tried to pull the blankets up but only managed to bring them partway over his torso. He thought about calling Sarah and asking for help, but decided against it. He listened for any sound of Jessica, but heard nothing. He felt worse now. Weak. The effects of his father’s beating now reaching its peak. He wrapped the blankets around himself as best he could and closed his eyes. He thought about Rachael and Matt, and wondered if they would ever stop looking for him, if Rachael would even care that he was gone, if they would all turn against him, convinced he had been responsible for Jessica’s disappearance.
How long before she is bored of me?
What will become of Jessica when I am gone?
The thought of Jessica enduring Arlette’s abuse, as Sarah had all of her life, was unthinkable. He wanted to believe Sarah would not allow it. That she and Jessica were too much the same, and that she would feel protective of Jessica, but he knew Arlette would always have the upper hand and the final say.
He would give himself the night to rest and go looking for Jessica in the morning.
She will not kill her…
She needs her to bargain with you.
The bedroom door creaked on its hinges and Julien opened his eyes. Confused by the unexpected silhouette in the hallway. He tried to sit up, but a pain in his side stopped him.
“Julien?”
Julien lay there squinting at the dark figure; his vision already impaired by his father’s blows. The voice was familiar, but out of context.
“Julien?” the voice said again and approached the foot of the bed.
It struck Julien all at once, “Ed?” he whispered.
Ed Bale found the lighter in his breast pocket and held it up over the bed. In the flickering light, he could hardly believe his eyes. Images of the accident site and blood in the driveway began to make sense. If he hadn’t heard Julien speak, he wouldn’t have recognized him.
“Aww, Geez, Julien…we’ve been looking for you.”
Julien panicked; Ed’s voice would surely be heard down the hall. He whispered, “Ed, what are you doing here? Why are you here?”
“I saw the trees down by the road and the blood in the driveway. When did this happen?”
“Ed you can’t be here. You have to leave…now.”
Ed tried to put the pieces together quickly. Clearly, there had been an a
ccident and Julien had been injured and stuck here due to the storm.
“Ed, please, you have to do as I say. How did you find us? You should not have come,” Julien tried to keep his voice down.
Ed walked around the bed to his side, “I went to see Rachael…”
“Go…get out of here. Just go!”
“Who is here with you?” Ed asked as Julien reached up at him. Ed leaned in closer.
Julien grabbed hold of his jacket, “I can’t explain this now. You have to leave. You have to go, right now, before she kills us both.”
Ed looked at Julien and felt for his gun, “Are you being held here? Do they have Jessica?” Ed pulled away from him, “Everything’s okay Julien, I’m going to call for help...” He stood up and reached into his pocket for his phone.
“No, Ed…you do not understand…”
Sarah appeared, standing motionless in the doorway.
Julien quickly dragged himself back against the pillows.
“Sarah, it is okay. He is a friend,” Julien stammered.
Ed followed Julien’s gaze and released his phone in his pocket then placed his hand on his gun. He quickly sized up the shadow to be a small female and held back from drawing. She didn’t move nor speak.
“I’m detective Ed Bale from the New York City Police Department…”
Julien interrupted, “Sarah…please…don’t…”
A sudden movement behind Bale caught Julien’s eye. Above Ed, a flash of silver, rising through the darkness in the flickering firelight. The axe came down slicing into him. Ed fell forward, his body slumped across Julien’s lap.
WISHBONE II: ...Some Wishes Should Never Be Made Page 18