by Kira Saito
“It was sent from your account right before you went out for dinner with Chris.”
“I don’t remember that. I would have remembered doing that.”
“You also don’t seem to remember that you’re running low on cash. You don’t have ten grand, do you, Kate? You used to be well off, but your habit is a hard one to maintain isn’t it?”
“I’m not in debt,” I said getting uncomfortable.
“My records tell me otherwise. Your credit cards are maxed out, your savings are gone, you’re on the verge of losing your apartment. The only shot you’ve got is this story or your editor will fire you.”
“You spoke to Sylvia?”
“I did, she said that she’s put up with you for so long because you used to be one of the best reporters on staff, but according to her, your strange behavior started even before Zoe disappeared.”
“That’s not true.”
“I’ve seen a lot of addicts do some extremely depraved things when they’re running low on cash and need a fix. They resort to prostitution, sell whatever they can get their hands on, some even go as far as pimping out their own kids. Of course, they never mean to do such things, it kind of just happens, doesn’t it? You’re high, it feels good and then when the drug isn’t around you get desperate and the need for survival kicks in, doesn’t it? The pills you’re taking, they change the user’s brain chemistry, don’t they? Make you do things that you never thought you were capable of doing. They give you fight or flight syndrome. Of course, you didn’t want your husband to find out about your habit, so you couldn’t use your joint fund.”
“What are you suggesting? Please tell me that you’re not implying that I had something to do with Zoe’s disappearance. I would never hurt my own daughter or put her in any danger. I’m not that kind of mother.”
“Oh, I’m not disagreeing with you. I don’t think you willingly meant to hurt Zoe, accidents seem to happen a lot around you, don’t they Kate? You’re disappointed with the way your life turned out, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. I lost the love of my life; I lost my daughter.”
“No, I think you were disappointed long before Zoe, disappeared, weren’t you? According to Nigel you wanted to be a somebody, you wanted to win a Pulitzer Prize. He described you as an attention seeker who was insistent on having a relationship with him because of his connections.”
“That’s not true. That’s not true at all! How many times do I have to tell you that he took advantage of me!”
“Perhaps he did, but you took it to the next level, didn’t you? You continued the game. When he refused to leave his wife for you, what did you do? You sent naked pictures of you and Nigel to his wife, didn’t you? Pictures of you two getting intimate. You even threatened to kill yourself if he didn’t choose you.”
I was horrified that he had found out about that. “I was young, stupid, and desperate. I’m not the same person anymore.”
“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. You know, I found some pretty interesting connections between those photos that you took of yourself and the naked photos of Zoe. In fact, the poses are identical. Now, where would Zoe have learned those poses from?”
My heart stopped. “Don’t tell me you think that I took those pictures of her. There is no way I’m capable of doing that to my own daughter.”
“Maybe not sober Kate but high Kate does things that she regrets the next day, doesn’t she? I don’t think you’re below pimping out your own daughter for attention and drug money. You hid it so well, didn’t you? You pulled it off right under your husband’s nose. Jay Simmons was the perfect cover for you, wasn’t he, Kate? A young black man, older than your daughter, no one would even consider the fact that he didn’t do it. That he didn’t take advantage of your daughter. You know how the system works, don’t you? You’ve covered enough stories to know which demographic typically gets targeted as the scapegoat.”
“That’s not true. He wasn’t a cover. He really did take advantage of her! Why else would they have spent so much time together?”
“They spent time together because they shared similar interests. Why does that seem so hard for you to believe? Let’s go inside and we can further discuss this matter.”
“No, wait, you have to believe me, you have to believe that I’m out here because Charlene Dubois led me here. She’s out there somewhere.” I motioned towards the tombs. “I’m not out here to pay off some hit man.”
“Come on then, let’s go find her.” Detective Ryan didn’t sound convinced as he helped me up. We walked in silence from tomb to tomb, his flashlight illuminated the trees and statues. “Well, I don’t see anyone who remotely resembles Charlene Dubois unless you count this statue here.” He pointed the light towards a statue of an angelic girl carrying a basket of broken flowers.
“Charlene! Charlene Dubois show yourself, young lady! Tell the detective that you’re the reason why I came out here tonight. Tell him what you know, please!” The only response to my pleas was the hoot of an amused owl.
“You can cut the charade, Kate. You aren’t fooling anyone. How about we head back to the inn, or would you like to wait out here alone so Thomaz can make another appearance and demand the cash that you don’t have?”
“It’s not an act! You have to believe me, please, no one else seems to.”
“Now why do you think that is? People don’t often keep believing in liars.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I don’t think that you’re lying intentionally. I think you build these characters and situations in your head to separate yourself from your addiction, it’s a way for you to avoid responsibility, to lay the blame on others. There would be nothing more that would make me happier than finding out that you are telling the truth; however, for now, the evidence isn’t there.”
“So what are you going to do? Arrest me?”
“No, I’m going to keep an eye on you and then when I find more evidence I’m going to arrest you and then I’m going to find out what you did to Zoe.”
We walked back to the inn in utter silence. I had a feeling that I was going to need a very powerful lawyer to get out of this mess. One that I couldn’t afford.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kate
My eyes opened to bright sunlight, birds chirping, and very vivid memories of what may or may not have been real. I lay in bed for a good ten minutes praying to all of the ancient gods and goddesses that I could recall, begging them to make this entire situation go away and to rewind time back to three years ago. Unfortunately, my prayers were not answered as my focus landed on my drenched bathrobe reminding me that parts of last night were in fact real.
I got out of bed and grabbed my phone. The pictures I had snapped of Charlene seemed even blurrier in the day of light. “Shit.” I scrolled through the useless snaps. I could have been talking to a shadow for all I knew. I glanced in the mirror, my neck was covered in finger-like bruises meaning that I hadn’t dreamt the part about the conversation that I had with Detective Ryan or my mystery attacker. My toes curled in embarrassment at the thought of Detective Ryan knowing my past and how desperately I had gone after Nigel. I had pulled out every dirty trick in the book in an attempt to keep him. None of my antics had worked.
My phone buzzed. It was Richard.
Are we still on for brunch? Please don’t tell me that you’re going to flake out?
I was relieved that it was him and that we were meeting. I needed his advice, and more importantly, I needed his team of lawyers. I would sign those divorce papers, I would agree to rehab, I would do whatever it took to clear my name, to find the truth about Zoe’s fate and most importantly keep Richard in my life.
I tapped a response. Yes, we are on. Same place, same time.
“Kate, are you awake?” asked Madame Queenie.
“Yes, I’m up. Is there a session today?”
“Yes, Mrs. Dubois wants to see you now. She’s very anxious to hear what you learned last night.�
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“Right. I’ll be down there in a few minutes.”
“That’s wonderful, you sound well rested.”
“Oh, I am.” My hand twitched. The Hillbilly doll was tempting me from the table. With his face stretched in a warm inviting smile, he was practically begging me to open him and take a teeny tiny taste.
“How are you going to tell Mrs. Dubois what you saw last night without me? Hmmm? You can’t do this without me, Kate. We’ve been friends for so long. I’ve helped you through so much.” I swear the doll was talking to me.
I grabbed it and tossed it into my purse. “You will not make me screw up today.”
In the shower, I debated whether or not to tell Mrs. Dubois and Madame Queenie that I had seen Charlene and that she was alive. Of course, if I went that route, Chris would only contradict me and say that he hadn’t seen anything. We would come across as two unprofessional reporters who couldn’t get their story straight. Maybe I would keep quiet and tell her that I hadn’t seen anything at all. I debated over what dress I would wear to have brunch with Richard. I wanted to look presentable, well-rested but not like I was trying too hard. I settled on a sleeveless green and white print dress and quickly blow-dried my hair and painted on a healthier version of me. “Today is the day everything is going to change. Today is the day that my life is going to become better.” I grabbed my purse and notes before heading out the door.
I sat in the empty lobby waiting for Madame Queenie to get me. As I waited, I drew flashes of what I had seen last night. I drew Charlene as I remembered her and the bizarre sex scene. I then went on the sketch the rain, the graveyard, and how Charlene had danced between the tombs and then went on to sketch the masked man who had attacked me.
As I stared at the drawings, I began to think that maybe Madame Queenie was right and Charlene was really dead and what I was seeing was her ghost. Did ghosts exist? Of course they did, Zoe’s ghost haunted me every second of every day.
“Kate, you look lovely.” Madame Queenie gave me a bright smile. As usual, she was radiant, her skin glowed, and her eyes sparkled as if they held a mystery that only her and her secret lover were privy to. “But what happened to your neck? It looks painful.”
“It’s a long story…” I said hiding the drawings I had been working on.
“Well, do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” I said getting up from my seat.
“Well, that’s your choice. Let’s get started then, shall we?”
“Sure, where’s Chris this morning?” I asked taking a look at the empty seat which he had usually filled. Was he still upset over how last night had played out?
“I’m not sure, I knocked on his door this morning and no one answered. I took a peek inside and his bed was made as if he hadn’t slept there at all. You didn’t leave him at the party, did you?”
I shook my head. “No. We came back together.”
“Well, that’s odd. Anyway, we can’t keep Mrs. Dubois waiting. She is eager to hear about last night.”
“Right, last night,” I said slowly as I followed her to the bridal suite. Where would I begin? What could I say without sounding like a crazy person?
“Good morning, Mrs. Dubois.” I greeted the veiled woman. Didn’t she ever get tired of that dress? Did she wear it to bed? Did she shower in it?
“Where is the other one?” asked Mrs. Dubois not bothering to respond to my greeting.
“Who, Chris?” I shrugged. “Out partying? I’m not his keeper. Why don’t we ask the cards?” I said sarcastically.
“Kate…” Madame Queenie warned.
“There will be no card reading today. I want to know if you found out who betrayed my daughter.”
My gaze shifted from candle to candle in an attempt to compose my thoughts and think of what in the world I could tell Mrs. Dubois.
“Well?” Mrs. Dubois asked. I glanced at Madame Queenie who was shuffling that stupid deck of cards.
“I think that your daughter is still alive,” I blurted out. “I don’t think anyone betrayed her at all. I think that she’s in hiding. She seemed sad, not scared only terribly sad.”
A few minutes of silence passed. The creaking of the ceiling fan was the only sound to be heard. “What did you say?” Mrs. Dubois calmly asked.
“I think that Charlene is alive. I think that I saw her in your own home last night, at the party and then we took a trip to Lafayette Cemetery.”
“Do you have any proof, Kate?” Madame Queenie asked.
“No, look.” I took out my phone. “See I tried to take a picture of her, but it turned out all blurry. It doesn’t look like much, but I swear that it was her.” Mrs. Dubois and Madame Queenie both leaned in to examine the tiny speck on the screen.
“That’s impossible…” Mrs. Dubois said after staring at the speck. “The cards don’t lie.”
“But what if they do,” I said. “What if your daughter is alive and closer than you think?”
“What did she say to you?” Mrs. Dubois asked. “If you spent the evening frolicking around the cemetery with my daughter, she must have revealed some information as to why she’s playing these games with us.”
“From what I remember, she said that she hangs out at the cemetery when she’s sad and that it happened on a night just like this.”
“What happened?” Madame Queenie asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. She said that she was thinking of suicide and she hangs out at the cemetery when she’s down.”
“Did Chris see her?” Mrs. Dubois asked. “Did Chris see this girl who claimed to be my daughter?”
I cracked my knuckles and was super conscious of the ticking of the clock. I glanced at my purse. He was in there, good ol’ Hillbilly would be waiting for me once this was over. “No. He didn’t…”
“Only you saw her?”
“Yes…” I knew where this was leading to. They didn’t believe me. Why should they? I didn’t have any proof, and I hadn’t given them one good reason to believe a word that came out of my mouth.
“And why should I believe you?” Mrs. Dubois asked.
“You shouldn’t, but you would know if I were lying. Did your daughter tend to hang out at the cemetery when she was sad?”
A few more seconds passed until Mrs. Dubois replied. “Yes,” she said softly. “Right before her disappearance that became her favorite wandering spots, I found her out there on countless occasions speaking to the statues and friends who I couldn’t see.”
Relief flooded me. “That means what I saw was real, she’s not dead, she’s alive, we have to get to that cemetery and look for her. It’s a huge place, what if she’s hiding out in a chapel or something.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Mrs. Dubois said sadly. “I have had my people search those grounds on many occasions; there was no sign of anyone hiding out there aside from one homeless man who left shortly after the authorities took his tent down. Perhaps what you saw was a ghost …”
“No, she wasn’t a ghost, she was as real as you and I. I touched her and spoke to her. She even saved me …”
“Saved you?” Madame Queenie asked.
“I wasn’t feeling well, and she gave me some medicine.”
“Kate, you don’t have any proof, do you?” Madame Queenie asked frankly. “Aside from what you think you saw, there is no physical evidence and Chris didn’t see anything either. Are you sure it wasn’t a hallucination?”
“Will everyone stop saying that? I’m telling the truth! I know what I saw.” I wanted to confess that I had also seen that bizarre Eyes Wide Shut scene; however, my conversation with Detective Ryan kept haunting me and suddenly I began to doubt whether I had seen what I actually thought I had seen. I had no way of explaining it rationally.
“This is too much to process,” Mrs. Dubois. “I need time to think, please leave me, both of you.” She started to weep and wail which meant it was my time to make my exit.
“I’ll see you later, Mrs.
Dubois,” I said as I followed Madame Queenie out the door.
“Kate, what did you do in there?” Madame Queenie stared at me, an unimpressed expression transformed her usually inviting face.
“I told her the truth.”
“No, you told her what you think you may have seen…”
“What’s wrong with that? I gave her hope.”
“She didn’t invite you over here to give her false hope. Now, you and Chris better get your stories sorted before the next session. I can’t have you two squabbling among yourselves. You don’t have much time; Detective Ryan is insisting that I take you off this story. He said something about having evidence that you pimped out your own daughter.”
“That’s not true! You don’t believe that do you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what I believe anymore…”
My phone buzzed. It was Sylvia.
Kate, what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into down there? A detective visited me. Did you really pimp out your own daughter? How is the story going?
I tapped off a reply.Of course I didn’t pimp out Zoe. The story is going.
The reply came in a second. What is that supposed to mean?
“I’ve gotta go,” I muttered as I ran down the hall. I needed to find Chris, so we could at least make up a cohesive story together. I no longer had time for this bizarre case with all of its shady characters. I had my own problems to worry about.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kate
“Chris, are you in there? It’s Kate, we need to talk. We have to get our stories straight. I have to fly back to New York as soon as possible. Something major has come up.” I banged on his door. “Chris, if you’re still pissed from last night, there is nothing that I can do besides say that I’m sorry, but I’m not making stuff up.” When he didn’t respond, I turned the handle and the door swung open.