by S. Kodejs
Cari arched her eyebrow. “I’m not a sideshow performing tricks for your amusement.”
“No,” Jake said slowly, “I don’t suppose you are. Forgive me, I’m being rude.”
“Forgiven,” she said, mollified. “You’ll find I don’t hold a grudge. A good quality, don’t you agree?”
“Yes. I wish I could say the same thing about my daughter. I’ve been in the doghouse for so long, I can’t remember how I got there.”
“Teenaged angst, of which I’m an expert. If you want to torture your parents, try telling them you’re a witch. That goes over real well.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “Your daughter will forgive you when she’s about twenty.” Her face clouded. “Jake, about your daughter... I did see something.” She hesitated, but there was no way to sugarcoat it. “I think your daughter is in serious trouble. I had a vision of an inverted pentagram, the symbol of Satan.”
His mouth dropped. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. Can you help me?”
“I’m not sure. Tell me everything you can, from the beginning.”
Jake raked his hand through his hair, leaving it standing up in awkward tufts. Combined with his bloodshot eyes and haggard face, he looked like an escapee from an insane asylum. “A year ago, everything seemed fine. I had a secure job, loving wife, adoring children. Or so I thought. I blinked, and everything fell apart. My wife left me... ostensibly to find herself. She found a career... and a new sexual orientation. I’m still trying to figure that one out. My once exciting job became dull, my children were strangers, which was more my fault than theirs. I learned the hard way that being a decent father requires more than putting money in the bank and making Sunday afternoon appearances.”
“Midlife crisis?”
“With a vengeance. I decided we needed a new start. So, I took a new job in a new city. I gave up financial security for a behemoth house that I hate, and a job that is looking less secure by the day. My boss thinks I’m a thief, my daughter thinks I’m an ogre, my twelve-year-old son wets his bed, a habit he gave up when he was three. Let’s see, did I leave anything out?” Jake shook his head ruefully. “Nope, that’s it in a nutshell.”
Cari reached over to the fireplace and handed Jake a piece of kindling. “What’s that for?” he asked, startled.
“Since you’re intent on beating yourself up, I thought you might as well do it properly.”
“I don’t think this stick is big enough.”
She leaned over and put the wood aside, then took both his hands into hers. “Self pity, besides being unattractive, is useless. It also won’t get your daughter back. Life’s full of decisions, sometimes we make the wrong ones, but mostly we make the right choices. So you made mistakes, who hasn’t? I’ll bet you’ve been doing your damndest to rectify them, hmmm?”
“Yes, but it’s one step forward, two steps back.”
“Life’s lesson 101. Tell me about your daughter... Amy, isn’t it?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “How did you do that, know her name?”
“I don’t know, it just came to me.”
He felt a chill run down his back. This mind reading thing of hers was... unsettling. He pushed aside his trepidation and told her what he could.
“That makes sense,” Cari said, nodding, when he told her about the pentagram whittled into Amy’s arm. “That explains my vision.” He wrapped up with last night’s visit to the Emergency Ward, and this morning’s news of her friend’s murder. “And do you think her death is connected to Amy’s disappearance?”
Jake flinched. He hadn’t even made that connection yet. Oh, God...
“The logical place to begin,” Cari was saying, ignoring his stricken expression, “is Amy’s boyfriend. He might have some answers.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Could you....” he hesitated asking, but this small woman’s strength was like a beacon in a moonless night. “Could you come with me?”
“Count on it. But first, I have something I need to give you.” She took the amulet from her pocket. “I made this. Call it a good luck charm. Wear it always, even at night. It’ll help protect you.”
Jake tried to keep the scepticism from clouding his eyes. “What’s in it?”
“Bunch of different things, mostly disgusting. You’re better off not knowing. Will you wear it?”
He slipped it over his head, feeling the small pouch cool against his chest, the silky rope against this neck. He wasn’t one for wearing jewelry, other than a watch, so it would take some getting used to. “I’ll wear it. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you,” Cari said.
“No, thank you.”
**
Jason Vandercamp was visibly upset. He’d been questioned by the school principal, interrogated by the police, now Amy’s dad was waiting for him in the parking lot, leaning against Jason’s freshly washed Mustang. “Mr. Montclaire,” Jason said respectfully. “Have you found Amy yet?”
“No. I was hoping you might have some answers.”
Jason shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Wish I did, I haven’t been able to think of anything else. I’m really worried about her, Mr. Montclaire. Did you hear about Elise?”
“Yes, I did.”
Jason looked like he might cry. “I can’t believe it. I was with her last night, with her and Alex. We went to a costume party at an old warehouse, and things started to get crazy. Elise was really drunk, she’d been flirting with some guys, pretending she was nineteen. One second she’s pressed up against some guy, slow dancing, the next she’s on the floor and her clothes are being ripped off. I told Alex to stay, and I went to get help, to call the police. It took me a few minutes, I don’t know, maybe fifteen. When I got back, Elise was gone and so was Alex, so I figured he got her out of there. Things were really ugly, so I split. God, Mr. Montclaire, this is all my fault. I took them there, I gave them fake I.D.’s. My dad is going to kill me.”
“What exactly happened at the club?”
“Elise... well, Elise was raped. A bunch of guys, I couldn’t see who, they all had costumes on. Look, Mr. Montclaire, I’m really tired and I feel kind of sick. I’ve told the police all about this, everything I know. Please, I’ve got to go home.”
“No, not yet, I need to ask –”
Before Jake could finish his sentence, Jason began to vomit. He retched again, the contents of his stomach spilling down his shirt, onto the pavement, splashing onto Jake’s pants and Cari’s shoes. A screech of tires, then Gil Vandercamp was there too, putting his arm around his son, guiding him to his car. “Always something,” Gil said, shaking his head. “These kids are enough to drive us crazy.” He was going to say something else, the words already tumbling from his mouth as he glanced at Cari, then stopped abruptly as if he’d been cut off with a knife. His nostrils flared briefly, doing a decent horse imitation, before he turned abruptly, hauling Jason away by the scruff of his neck. “Get your ass back to the office, Montclaire.”
“Friendly guy,” Cari commented.
Jake nodded, eyes narrowed as he watched Gil squeal from the parking lot, leaving behind the odor of burning rubber. “The illustrious Gil Vandercamp, Jason’s father and my boss. Until this morning, I’d have also said he was my good friend.”
“Strong personality.”
“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him. Kind of odd that he’d show up just now.”
“Perhaps not.”
He waited for her to elaborate, and when she remained quiet, he asked impatiently, “Well, sense anything else?”
“I’d say he knows more about this than he’s letting on.”
“Which one?”
“Both. Jason was as nervous as a chipmunk, and daddy just about peed his pants when he saw me. He sensed my power and it bothered him. Jake, I’d like to see Gil again, as soon as possible, while his guard is still down. Can you arrange a meeting between us? Nothing obvious.”
“You think the Vandercamps have something to do with Amy?”
She
shrugged. “Let’s explore all possibilities.”
Jake furrowed his brow. “Then let’s go to Marvelworks. That’ll kill two birds with one stone – I’ll show my face and you can interrogate Gil.”
**
The room was tiny, airless and dark. No... not dark, exactly, but her eyes were covered with a swag of scratchy cloth.
But her hands were free. Amy reached up and removed the blindfold. Light glared from a bare bulb suspended from the ceiling, forcing Amy to squint as she assessed the situation. She lay on a mattress on the floor, a thin blanket across her hips, no pillow. The mattress was mildewy and stained, and she wrinkled her nose distastefully.
No windows. An earthy, subterranean coolness to the room, permeated by dankness linked only to spaces encased in soil. Okay, so she was underground. The walls were cement, unpainted, and aside from the mattress and the light bulb, the room was devoid of furnishing. Cell, she corrected herself. This wasn’t a room – it was a cell.
She had no recollection of arriving here. Nothing past the memory of last night’s calamity. The fall, the hospital, the ride home, then a deep, blessed slumber.
Now this.
What could it mean? Was Dad punishing her, relegating her to the basement until she admitted her sins? Amy shook her head. This wasn’t her basement, and Dad, despite her fondness for dissing him, was too decent to do anything this mean. Punishment wasn’t his domain, certainly nothing this creative. No, this definitely was not his style.
Her body hurt. She studied her wrist, wrapped tightly in Tensor bandage. She lifted the corner, alarmed to see dark bruising. A quick inventory: besides the wrist, which throbbed like crazy, her entire right side ached. Her jaw, forearm, ribcage, shin, foot. Even her toes hurt.
Amy shivered. She was cold and hungry – deliriously hungry. She thought about hollering to let someone know she was awake, then decided against it. The pain and hunger were easier to bear than the unknown.
She drew up the thin blanket, wrapped her arms around her knees and tucked in her chin, rocking slowly. Before long, she lay down in the same position, eyes pressed shut, tears trickling down her cheeks into a damp puddle on the mattress.
The door opened. Heavy footsteps echoed on the cement floor. Amy squeezed her eyes together even more tightly, afraid to look. The footsteps halted near her, observing and waiting. She felt the air stir as the intruder bent, heard the rustle of the coarse blindfold as he picked it up. Heard his breathing. A moment longer... then, abruptly, the intruder left. A click as the door locked shut, leaving her alone again.
Then another click.
The room plunged into total blackness.
Amy began to scream. Not the dark! She screamed until her throat turned raw and no sound came out. Then she just lay there, mouth wide open, lungs heaving, screaming on the inside, with only herself to hear.
**
A brief trip home to check on things, the chance to shower off the smell of vomit, the odor of despair. A cleansing wash to make him feel human again.
Jake hoped against hope that Amy would be there, knowing she wouldn’t. Carmen had strict orders to contact him the moment Amy returned, and Jake had been calling every half-hour... In case Carmen lost his cell number, although she knew it by heart. In case the lines were jammed and she couldn’t get through. In case an earthquake occurred, rendering Carmen senseless, unable to get to the phone.
He also wanted to see Skeeter, to be near his child, to breath the boy’s scent and hold him close. To both comfort and draw support. To protect his remaining child from every possible harm in the world. To get hold of Skeeter and never let him go. To take care of Skeeter like he should have taken care of Amy.
“No word yet?” Jake demanded.
Carmen shook her head morosely.
Skeeter was crying, and for the boy’s sake, Jake pulled himself together. “Hey buddy, it’s going to be okay.”
“Promise?”
No, he couldn’t promise. To deflect Skeeter’s question, Jake introduced Cari instead. “Skeeter, I have to grab a quick shower. Will you take Ms. Valentine to Amy’s room?”
“Why?” Skeeter sniffed.
“Because someone threw up all over my shoes and pant legs.”
“No, I mean, why Amy’s room?”
“Because,” Jake said, taking his son by the shoulder, “Cari is going to help us find Amy.”
Carmen looked skeptical. “How?”
Jake started to explain but caught a brief, almost imperceptible shake of Cari’s head. “Uh, Cari is an expert on teenagers,” he prevaricated. “At this point, I think we’ll take all the help we can get.”
**
“You’re very fond of your sister,” Cari stated a few minutes later. She was walking around Amy’s room, absently holding an old teddy bear, one Amy had since infancy.
“Uh huh. Sometimes she’s a pain in the butt. Well, mostly she’s a pain in the butt... but I still love her. When do you think she’ll come home?”
Cari stopped wandering and turned her full attention to the boy. “I’m not sure. Maybe five minutes, maybe a few days.”
“Maybe not ever?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“Maybe I was, a little. Were you thinking that too?”
Skeeter nodded. He felt like a traitor.
“Did you hear anything weird last night? Or this morning?”
“Like what?”
“Anything different. Like voices, or footsteps. Funny sounds?”
Skeeter thought. “No.” Then, as an afterthought, “Sorry.”
“Hey, no problem.”
“But I want to help.”
“You can, actually. What is her favorite thing to wear?”
He went to the closet and came out with an old Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. “She likes this a lot, used to wear it almost every day. Now she just puts it on when she’s sad.”
“Good. That’ll do. Now a hairbrush. Do you know where she keeps her hairbrush?”
Skeeter went into an adjoining bathroom and returned with the requested item. “Perfect,” Cari said, running her fingers through the bristles to dislodge some blond hair. “What about a toy? Something Amy’s had for a long time?”
“That bear you’re holding. His name is Mr. Fuzz.”
“Ah ha. I thought this bear was important. Good, that should be enough. Let me just look around... Oh, perfect... here’s some chewing gum stuck to the night table. Do you think this is Amy’s?”
Skeeter wrinkled his face. “Yeah. Man, I get in trouble if I leave my gum around like that. Carmen has a fit. Why do you want something gross like that anyway?”
“I’m trying to sense who Amy is and her belongings help. She’s touched all these things. The hair from her brush and her dried saliva on this gum are a part of her. She wore the sweatshirt close, next to her heart, and she loved this bear – she probably slept with it.”
“Used to.”
“Good enough. These are positive things, and if I concentrate really hard, I might get a clue to where she is.”
“How?”
“Do you believe in magic?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Jake walked into the room and ruffled his son’s hair. “We need some magic now, don’t we, Son? Listen, Skeet, I need to go to the office for a little bit, and I want you to come too.”
“And miss the whole day of school? Sweet. You said I could only miss the morning.”
“Change of plans.”
“Awesome. Is Ms. Valentine coming too?”
“You bet.” He turned to her. “Get everything you need, Cari?”
“Yes,” she said, “except for one gigantic thing: Skeeter, please call me Cari. Ms. Valentine sounds old-fashioned, almost as bad as ma’am.” Carmen entered the room, leaving them with the impression she’d been eavesdropping. But who could blame her? The poor woman was despondent. It was apparent she blamed herself for Amy’s disappearance.
> “I feel nervous,” Carmen said shakily. “Can’t you stay here?”
Jake hesitated, weighing the suggestion. “I’d better go to Marvelworks, disaster seems to be striking everywhere today.” He paused. “On the bright side, it’ll give me something to do, because I’ll go stark raving mad if I stay here, waiting... doing nothing.”
Carmen nodded slowly, wringing her hands. Jake squeezed her shoulder gently, securing her promise to stay put, to phone immediately if Amy appeared, then he rubbed his eyes wearily. He’d been awake for twenty-nine hours and hadn’t eaten since last night.
Outside, daylight had turned to dusk, although it was only noon. Heavy clouds blanketed the island, low enough to touch and rain streamed relentlessly. It was one hell of a lousy day, yet somehow fitting – the weather a perfect match for his mood.
**
Marvelworks was not what Cari expected. The headquarters were smaller than imagined, taking up only one floor of a moderate sized building. The arcade intrigued her particularly. Street-level, filled with teenage boys despite the fact that school was in session. There was energy here... and something else, something she couldn’t define. When Skeeter elected to play here while Jake went to the third floor, Cari also felt the urge to stay. Later, she promised herself. Later she would check this place out, when she could give it her undivided attention.
Jake introduced Cari to his secretary, got her a cup of tea and apologetically left her to her own devises. “I shouldn’t be long,” he explained. “I need to run over to Development, see if they’ve made any progress in determining which project to launch.” To Lisa, he asked, “Any word from Amy?”
“No,” Lisa answered, “and your housekeeper doesn’t want you to keep phoning, says you’re tying up the line.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “She’ll turn up, Jake.”
“Thanks, Lisa, I hope so.” He turned to Cari. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”
“Absolutely, take as much time as you need.” Cari meant it. She planned to snoop around a bit, see if she could uncover the vibrant energy emanating throughout the office.
The furnishings of Marvelworks were modern and simple. Cari began browsing in Jake’s office: it was sparsely furnished, meticulously tidy. A desk, leather swivel chair, file cabinet. Pictures of his kids on the desk. Pencil holder made from a macaroni covered tin can, painted gold. Plaster of Paris ashtray, indented with a handprint, signed To Daddy, Love Skeeter, age-five. A few plants, an abstract on the wall. So, this was the space he spent much of his life in. Interesting.