“Oh yeah?” I said. “What else do you know about the Mom?”
“I mean…she’s not all there. She got messed up when Madeline’s Dad left. It was like she changed into a different person. That’s how Madeline put it. She sees a psychiatrist twice a week, takes a bucketful of pills every morning. That’s what I know. That’s all of it.”
“Yeah, alright.” I stood up, grabbed a couple of game tapes. I shook them in the air. “I’ll be watching,” I said.
I walked out of the room, leaving her sitting there. Out one hallway, then the next, the gym, then the main lobby. I passed by the secretary and gave the blonde a friendly wave. Her spirits looked lifted. Mine weren’t. Madeline was gone. I needed to see about her Mom. My day just kept getting better and better.
8.
Madeline’s driveway was empty and the lights were off. That was fine. There were things to tend to at my house. I had some meat cooking in the basement, and I liked it medium-rare. It would’ve been a shame to burn the roast.
I went in the front for variety’s sake. The house was spotless and lifeless. I walked through the entryway, past the observation deck, and down the stairs. The darkness called to me. I always answered.
The workshop hadn’t lost its spartan charm. There was the chair, there was the bucket, there was the rope. By the steel door, there were a couple drops of Ned’s blood. I took the bucket and poured some water over it. Then I ground out the stain with the heel of my shoe. I’d told him I’d clean up, and I’m a man of my word.
I moved to the cave door and started to open it. Halfway in, I paused. My doors always stayed locked. This one wasn’t. The shovel rested on the wall to the right. I picked it up. Then I went inside the cave. It was just as I’d left it. The big hollow mouth, Ned in the center, and no one else. At least I assumed it was Ned. I closed in on a white lump that looked like a four foot wide cotton ball. It was hard to tell who was in there. He’d been wrapped up like a present. Merry Christmas to me.
Close up, threads shot off in every direction. It was a maze of cobwebs around a solid core. They had built Ned a real nice cocoon. With each heartbeat, a light pulsed inside. It revealed every inch of the empty cave. I put the shovel down. The time wasn’t right. Not yet.
I locked the door and went back upstairs. Across the street, an ailing Toyota pulled into the driveway. The Little Duck’s mother got out alone. She paused. Then she sniffed the air. It must not have smelled good. She vanished inside her garage a moment later.
There was no reason to be shy with her. I made my way through her yard. In the gray afternoon light, her house looked like a tombstone. I got to her front door and rang the bell. She had plastic flowers on her porch. Even they looked to be dying. I knocked. Nothing. I rang again. Inside, there was movement. A minute passed, and the door opened. A woman appeared behind the screen.
“Not a good time,” she said.
“It never is,” I said.
She looked me up and down, the way women sometimes do. She didn’t seem to think much of what she saw.
“What do you want?”
“If you plan on finding your daughter, you’ll invite me inside.”
She considered it. Then she opened the screen. I followed her in without a word.
The house reeked of cheap alcohol and cheaper perfume. We moved into the living room. It was painted a sick green. There were wooden chairs, a wooden table, and a wooden bench. None of them looked very comfortable. I took the chair. She took the bench. She had a cushion. I didn’t.
“Thirsty?” she said.
She didn’t wait for a response. She got up and fixed us drinks. She put ice in mine. I like my drinks neat. But you don’t complain to the person making your drinks. I swallowed it whole.
There was decent light in the room. I got a good look at her. She had wide, frightened eyes. Her hair was too straight and soft for someone her age. She was not beautiful, but she might have been a long time ago.
“Things have been better,” I said.
“You could say that,” she said.
“First your husband leaves, then you get cancer. Now your daughter’s gone. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Just who the hell are you? What’s this about cancer?”
“You can call me Blue,” I said. “Last time I checked, cancer and wigs go together real well.”
On cue, she reached for her hair and brushed it back behind her ear.
“Was I too far off?” I asked.
“You seem like a rude man,” she said.
I grinned. “I gave you the benefit of the doubt,” I said. “I’ve met some women who wear wigs. They were mixed up with some rough people. Rougher than doctors.”
“What are you implying, Mr. Blue?”
“Maybe you were out this afternoon on business. Maybe pleasure. Maybe both.”
“Get out,” she said.
But I didn’t stand and she didn’t make me leave. She didn’t really mean it. I picked up the bottle and fixed myself another drink. Neat.
“You?” I held out the bottle.
“Of course,” she said.
I freshened up her drink. She looked better with a drink in her hands. She looked better with a drink in my hands.
“I’m here to investigate your daughter’s disappearance,” I said. “Not you. Enough with the small talk. Let’s get to the point.”
“I’d like that very much,” she said. But she didn’t mean a word of it.
“How would you describe your relationship with your daughter?” I asked.
“Maternal,” she said.
“That’s good,” I said.
She smiled a charming smile.
“You must’ve really been something,” I said.
“I still am,” she said.
A glimmer of confidence played on her eyes. It was enough to make a man like me think twice, or not at all.
“You know what I think about a woman with hair like you? A woman who leaves her house for hours the day her daughter disappears?”
She leaned in, ready for the big secret. “Tell me,” she said.
“A woman like that,” I said. “She’s hiding something.”
She leaned back and let out a shrill laugh. Then she reached up and detached the wig. She let it fall to the ground. Underneath, she was blonde.
“My name is Kerri, Mr. Blue. I wear a wig; I don’t deny it. Sometimes a woman likes to change things, quickly and drastically. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand.”
“Where do you keep your pills, Kerri?”
She laughed bitterly. “You’re here for the drugs? I should’ve known from that look you had.”
“Nah, none for me. I was just thinking you might’ve skipped a dose or two.”
“It’s entirely possible,” she said.
It was easy to get caught up in her games. She had a way of focusing the spotlight on the two of us. But the star of the show was offstage. That just wouldn’t do.
“The night Madeline went missing,” I said. “You think there was any reason she left?”
At that, Kerri turned somber, reflective. Her mood swung back and forth like a pendulum.
“The day started off well. It was fine. Madeline received a progress report. It must’ve said good things. Madeline went to school that day, and she had her friends at school…but she also had enemies, of course. Beautiful girls always have enemies. Then she came home, and she was pleasant, wonderful. We ate dinner together. I kissed her goodnight…”
She covered her face with her hands and pretended to cry. She was probably laughing under there.
“And…and when I woke up this morning, she was gone. I assumed she went to school early. She does that sometimes. I only phoned the police after I found the note.”
“I need to see that,” I said. “If you still have it.”
“Of course,” she said. “The phone’s right here.” She pointed to a black brick on the table.
“Don’t get smart,” I said.<
br />
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Begin with the note,” I said.
“Very well,” she said.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of notebook paper. It looked like the family dog had tried to eat it. And maybe she had.
She handed me the note. It matched Madeline’s handwriting from her journal. All the note said was: I’m going to the cave. Goodbye.
I turned the note over. The back was blank. “That clears things up,” I said.
“Not quite. I know the “cave” she’s talking about. It’s at a park we used to frequent, back when she was just a child. I already checked it. She’s not there.”
“You searched an entire cave?”
“It didn’t take long. It’s not even the size of this room.” She laughed a mocking laugh. Then she took the letter back from me and tossed it aside.
“You don’t seem too concerned,” I said. “She pulls stunts like this often?”
“Everything’s happened before. Everything will happen again.”
“Spare me,” I said. There’s nothing worse than a drunk philosopher. And I’ve known a few. “Listen, I’ve got a working timeline. I know two things happened yesterday. One: in the morning, the lights came on early. That was in her room. Two: last night, you had a screaming match with her. But it wasn’t much of a match, because she never screamed back. Right after that, she left.”
Kerri laughed. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“I like to feel the other fighter out before I throw a punch.”
“Are we fighting? I’m having such fun.”
I tipped the bottle of booze over. That stopped her fun. The drink chugged out onto the ground.
“You idiot!” She ran over and picked up the bottle like it was her baby. There was a large alcoholic stain on the floor. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find her licking it later.
She poured herself another drink and settled back down. She was as composed as if nothing ever happened. But now she stood between the bottle and me.
“Tell me what you said to her,” I said.
She took a calm sip of her drink. “Madeline, you mean?”
I nodded.
“You’re a worthless slut, you’re the reason I got sick, your father left because of you. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You were begging her to leave.”
“Women need changes. Quick, drastic changes.”
“Where do you think she was really going?”
Kerri considered it. “Her best friend for years has been this boy….Ned something. He’s as unrefined as you. I’m sure you’d enjoy his company.”
“She’s with him now?” I asked.
“Perhaps,” she said.
“Where would they go?”
“There are only two people who know that,” she said. “Ned and Madeline.”
For once, the woman was right. The answer had been staring right into my eyes. Ned had been following Madeline. He’d known she would be out that night. He’d known because he’d set her up. It probably went something like this: He told her where to meet. He told her he’d give her the secret diary back. Who knows if he meant it. But that’s where they were on their way to. Ned knew, and I needed him to tell me. Ned was wrapped up in my basement. He wasn’t going to be able to talk much. Not in this state, anyway.
I stood up to leave.
“Thank you for your time, Miss,” I said.
“Please, call me Kerri,” she said.
I turned to leave.
“Do you like it?” she said. She put the wig back on and straightened it with the help of a mirror. “The hair, I mean.”
“It suits you,” I said.
I left her there. She was still looking at the mirror, toying with her hairpiece. She didn’t seem satisfied at all.
September 13, 2038
On the Path
9.
Tika was excellent at giving orders. Usually, this isn’t the most endearing personality trait. But when you need to be led out of an underground cave, it’s nice to have someone else take charge.
I followed Tika into a dark corner. Instead of running into a wall, we just kept going. After a few seconds of walking, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. The light from the room had already disappeared.
“Let us continue,” said Tika.
“How’d you know I stopped?” I asked.
“I cannot see, but I can feel. Your footsteps are like earthquakes.”
“Are you calling me fat?” I said.
“No,” she said. “I am calling you Iron Foot.”
“I don’t see how that’s better,” I said.
We moved forward at a quick, steady rate. It didn’t even seem like we were going uphill at all. But before long, I saw a pale ring of light up ahead. The light got bigger and bigger. As it came into focus, I saw a picture of nature, flattened out and framed by the cave walls. I stepped out of the cave and looked around. I realized that of all places, I was in a park.
“This is amazing!” I said. After all this time underground, seeing trees and people and trash cans was just great. Then I had a thought. “Wait a minute…” I looked down at Tika. “You knew how to get above-ground all along, didn’t you? But you had me stay in the ditch instead for three whole weeks.”
Tika pretended like she hadn’t heard me. “What is this?” she said.
“Nice try,” I said. “But how about you answer my question?”
“No,” she said. “Look here again. Look closely, with both your eyes.”
As usual, I followed her orders, even using both my eyes. And I have to admit, she had a pretty good reason for changing the subject. Right by our feet, there was a thin white line. It ran along the entire walking path, way out into the distance. I couldn’t even see the end of it.
Then I noticed Tika crawling ahead.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I am discovering where this strange thing is leading,” she said.
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea. People could, you know, see you. Or step on you, for that matter.”
“You have too great anxiety,” she said. “I am protected out here.”
I caught up to Tika, and saw that the line kept going over hills and into a thicket of trees.
“But…but do you think this will lead to my mother?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I did not see your mother by the cave. So I will keep walking.”
It didn’t sound like a bad plan, if you ignored the prophecy. It had said the fool will “follow the light until he is caught.” When I brought up my concern to Tika, she just brushed me off.
“The prophecy says “light.” This is a line.”
“But it’s a glowing line,” I said.
“You have been underground for too long,” she said, and kept walking.
To be honest, I was too tired to argue with her. And a little fresh air was just what I needed to clear my head. We followed the line to a tee. Every few seconds, I’d glance around to see if I my mother was there. But she never was. How would I have even recognized her, after all?
However, there did happen to be a quite a few attractive women. Most of them wore exercise clothes that were very form-fitting. What can I say? It was a nice day for a walk.
“You are having fun?” asked Tika. I got the feeling I better be careful with my answer.
“I’m enjoying the outdoors,” I said.
Tika frowned. “Too much enjoyment, I think,” she said.
Eventually, the white line took us to a clearing at the edge of the park. I’d figured the line would end at any moment, but now it seemed like it might go on for quite a while. Maybe it was the girls at the park, or maybe it was the fact that we were alone now, but Tika had a certain topic on her mind.
“Tell me your love story,” she said.
“Umm…I don’t have one,” I said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love, and I wo
uldn’t remember it even if I had been.”
“Nothing? You’re sure?”
I nodded.
“Will you make one up, then?”
“You go first,” I said.
Tika took a deep breath. She hadn’t told me much about her personal life before, and I admit, I was a little curious.
“I only had one boyfriend in my entire life. He was very handsome and also had a good figure. We were dating for so many years, and we wanted to marry. But first, we had to see the prophet. If he predicted our marriage would be a success, then we would do. But if he predicted the marriage would end in disaster, then we could not.”
“The prophet?” I said. “You said he just had his one story.”
She shook her head no. “It is something he does for every marriage. For us, he predicted disaster. So I had to break up with the guy. It was a heartbreaking moment. The guy kept trying to see me, calling me, saying, “What you did was not right.” He acted like it was my fault. I cried and cried, but what could I do? Finally, he moved away, and I did not see him again. A sad story, don’t you think?”
We came to the edge of the clearing and entered a loose forest, the white line still at our feet. I wasn’t sure what to think. I didn’t know much about love, but it seemed like something you should hold on to when you get the chance.
“Didn’t you ever doubt the prophet?” I asked.
“I have faith,” she said. “Even when he is always giving me bad news.”
Now, her behavior around the prophet started to make sense. No wonder she had been avoiding him. “So that’s why you don’t like him,” I said.
She shook her head again. “It is not a matter of like or dislike. It is a matter of truth. Do you like that the dirt is brown? The leaves are green?” She paused. “Does this have a familiar feeling to you?” she asked.
“I don’t know…I don’t think we’ve had a conversation like this before…”
“No,” she said. “I am talking about this area. The nature that surrounds us.”
I didn’t think so, and I told her.
“OK,” she said, frowning a little. She started up again without a word.
The Caterpillar King Page 5