The land of dead flowers: (A serial killer thriller)

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  Max nodded. “I know it’s strange,” he said. “I can’t find an explanation, but I started to write a book. About your daughter. It seemed like she told me what to write, and what to do even. I don’t hear her voice. It’s not that. Something different, I can’t explain. Like she lives in me. I know about your husband. I know you wanted to divorce him when Angelica was six, but then you forgave him and took him back. Both of you were young. You didn’t have discord in your family after that.”

  The woman put her hand on the left side of her chest.

  “Are you okay?” Max asked.

  “Go on. Please.”

  “I know about her friends. Both Kellys. I know about Angelica’s dreams. I know when you argued with her seriously for the first time. Your daughter came home late from her friend’s house that night. She bought horrible red pants with blue stripes with her birthday money and you hated them. She added some sparkling stones on the pockets of those pants to be different.”

  Max couldn’t believe it, but the woman wasn’t running away or screaming, she wasn’t calling the police or kicking him out. She cried and wiped her eyes with a towel.

  “Everything you said is true. You dreamed it?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t understand. Things like this don’t happen.”

  “Then I made it up.”

  Wilma stood and moved to exit from the room.

  “You stay here. I’ll be back in a second.”

  Max thought she went to call the police, but then discarded that thought. Wilma didn’t look like a person who would do things secretly. She would tell him if she wanted him gone.

  He listened to the doors being slammed and studied the room that seemed so familiar to him, as if he had lived here. Max ran his hand over the wall, scooped up the stuffed bear that was so soft he could tie it in a knot, and pressed the toy to his chest.

  He closed his eyes and tried to see Angelica in this room. How much time had she spent here with her dreams, so naïve and pure? She lay in this bed that seemed to hold the warmth of her body still and the eagerness of her young soul.

  Max opened his eyes and looked at the desk Angelica’s father had bought for the girl’s eighth birthday. Inside, there should be her photo album, a book with dried leaves, and some cheap jewelry made from plastic and metal. Keeping the bear in his arms, Max walked to the table and pulled out the drawer. Everything was the way he knew it would be. A book, with the cover facedown, an orange photo album, and a jewelry box, decorated with seashells. Max opened it and saw what he expected. Earrings, rings, bracelets of pink, red, and blue plastic and metal that had become dark with time. Taking from the box, one ring, with a blue, plastic stone, Max put it on his pinky. It went down to the middle of his nail.

  Max was startled, and dropped the ring when Wilma entered and called him.

  “I’m so sorry.” Max picked up the ring, thrust it hurriedly into the box, and pushed the drawer closed. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t usually, but it’s like … I don’t know.” He realized he was still holding the bear, returned the toy to the pillow, and folded his hands before himself, like he was a child who had spilled red paint all over the floor.

  “It’s Angel’s favorite toy.” The woman looked at the white bear with a brown spot. “You said white bear before you passed out. I thought my ears tricked me.”

  Max didn’t remember saying it.

  “Do you believe me?” he asked. It would be a shock, but he needed her to believe him. Her, and no one else mattered.

  Wilma looked into his eyes. “You see her? Like a … ghost?”

  “No, I see her in my dreams. Like a real person,” Max confirmed. “But on a level I can’t explain. I just know it’s her, but I don’t see, don’t hear her. When I’m awake, I mean.”

  “What does it all mean?” Wilma didn’t have the towel in her hands, so she plucked at the edge of her dress.

  “I think your daughter chose me to tell you something. Maybe to tell you where she is.”

  “It means … It means …” Wilma didn’t finish, breathed deeply, suppressing her tears. Her eyes had been red already when she left the room to cry, trying to hide it from Max.

  “I don’t know what it means.” Max approached her and took both of her hands. She wasn’t tall, the top of her head was below his shoulder, and she lifted her head up now to look into his eyes. “I don’t know what it means. I also saw your neighbor’s house, even rooms inside it. Why? I don’t know. Besides his house, I haven’t seen anything. I don’t have a connection with him like I have with your daughter. Honestly, I feel anxious around him, but here, with you, I feel like I’m home.”

  Wilma’s smile was sad. “I trust you,” she said. “I trust you, but all of this seems unbelievable. Mystical. A famous person like you wouldn’t lie to an old woman. I read only good things about you.”

  “I would never do that. I wouldn’t have said anything, but I’m hoping that you can help me figure it out. You know, Angelica has become close to me. I feel like she’s my little sister.”

  “She’d be your older sister.”

  “Yes, I guess, but I see her as a little girl. Well, now she’s almost fourteen. I feel like she’s guiding me to that moment when she vanished from your life. Slowly, so I won’t miss anything. Maybe she doesn’t know herself what happened, but she wants me to help her find out. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, God, if you only knew. If you only knew how much I want closure. It’s so difficult to live in the darkness. I feel like I haven’t lived in years. Only waited. What if there might be a knock at the door? What if she calls?”

  “I think we’ll find out. We just need to give her more time.”

  “Can you tell her that I love her? That I didn’t forget about her?”

  “I don’t know how to communicate with her, but I think she knows.”

  Wilma closed Max’s hands with her soft, warm palms.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what to think about it now. I need to digest it. Thank you.”

  Max said goodbye to the woman after five minutes and couldn’t refuse a bag of cookies that she gave him to treat his wife. She asked his wife’s name and asked if he had children. She said that many people called her daughter An for short. She called Angelica or Angel.

  The car smelled of cookies, and all the way home, Max smiled. He received a strange feeling of reconciliation in that house. He didn’t want to leave. He could imagine working in that tiny room, at that old desk. His apartment in New York was big, nice, with a view of the park, and everything was convenient and within close reach, but in Wilma’s house, he felt comfortable. More comfortable than ever in his life.

  CHAPTER 34

  Max couldn’t wait and called Anna at work to ask her not to eat any sweets on her way home. She said she never did that and asked what he had in mind. He had cookies in a plastic, Ziploc bag.

  “Did you bake them yourself?”

  “What? I can make cookies. Out of a box. But, no, I’ll tell you later.”

  Max waited impatiently for his wife to come home, crossing the room from one corner to another, rubbing his hands together, making conversation in his head. She didn’t understand it yesterday, but she was going to today. Wilma asked about her. Maybe Anna would like to meet the woman. He would introduce them to each other, and Anna would love the woman. Everyone would love her because she was wonderful. And she was so lonely. Maybe they could visit her together occasionally. Give her presents at Christmas and for Mother’s Day. Why not? It wasn’t bad to do nice things for other people, color someone’s loneliness, and fill somebody’s life with meaning. Then their lives could find new meaning. New goals.

  Anna entered the apartment, took her coat off, and threw it, along with her bag, onto the couch. She sat down, eyeing Max, who stopped in the middle of the room.

  “You look happy. I’m glad to see it,” Anna said.

  “I’m always happy.”

  Anna coughed and shrugged.

&nb
sp; “Okay, sorry,” Max said. “I was in such a state. This book swallowed me.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Listen.” Max sat down by his wife and took her hands in his. “She believed me.”

  “Who? What?”

  “Angelica’s mother. She believed me. Of course, she was in shock and she needs some time to go over it and accept it, but for me it will be easier to have her support. I also don’t need to hide anything.”

  “Are you saying that you visited the mother of that girl from your dreams?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.” Anna coughed again and swallowed. “You told her everything and she believed you.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be so easy. It’s a strange story.”

  “To say the least.”

  “You have a strange tone in your voice.”

  “No, I’m just … You said we have cookies?”

  Max jumped up and pulled Anna’s hand.

  “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  His wife sat at the table, and Max spilled cookies from the bag onto a plate in front of her. He switched on the teapot.

  “I felt like I’d been there already. I knew everything—even the tactile sense seemed familiar. You see? That white bear …”

  “What white bear?”

  “It’s Angel’s favorite toy.”

  “You saw pictures of the girl and she looked like the one you dreamed about?”

  “She doesn’t look like her. It’s her.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “Tell me about it. But it’s true. Things that we haven’t ever believed in—exist. Something beyond our minds. Something we can’t explain. Now I know why I pass out.”

  “Did you pass out again?” Anna interrupted.

  Max waved his hand, irritated, turned to the teapot, and found two cups.

  “It’s nothing,” he muttered, regretting mentioning the blackouts. It just came out, he didn’t plan it. He also didn’t plan she would understand. “It’s when I meet the other world. You know? It’s like a collision in my head.” Max thought about coffee, maybe even instant, but thought better of it and dropped two bags of fruit tea into the cups. “She was astonished, and it was the reason I didn’t ask her more about that architect. I think about him all the time. There must be a reason I saw him in my dreams too. What do you think?”

  Max put the cups in front of Anna and himself.

  “I think all of this is bizarre. Max you need to see a doctor about these blackouts of yours. It’s not normal.”

  “I just told you why it happens,” Max said as he sat at the table. He was irritated.

  “And your actions.”

  “What’s wrong with my actions, Anna?” Max’s good mood started to evaporate.

  “Nothing. I’m just … Nothing. Cookies are good?”

  “The best I’ve eaten. She made them from scratch. Try one.”

  Anna took a tiny bite, gazing at her husband.

  “Whatever happened to your friend has nothing to do with what’s happening to me. They’re completely different things.”

  “All right. You’re not a child. I can’t make you go to the doctor.”

  “I have no reason to go.”

  “Okay, Max. Great cookies, you’re right. Just like my mom’s.”

  “I told you. She said she’d make something else next time. I forgot what it was.”

  “You are going back?”

  “Sure. Ann, do you understand what’s going on? I’m a part of some supernatural force.”

  “Yeah. The voice of God.”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  “Not exactly.” Anna finished the cookie and wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “I just worry. You’re my husband, and it’s scary to see that you’re moving away from me.”

  “What are you talking about? That’s not true. I can’t live without you; you know that. On the contrary, this experience will make us closer.”

  “This experience will make us closer.” Anna nodded, but her look was skeptical.

  “I love you,” Max said.

  “I love you too. I just don’t want things to change.”

  “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Morris left the car and set off to the building. No hesitation, doubts, or delays. His decision was made, everything thought through. It was time for successive actions. One by one, until the day came. He didn’t worry about her or someone else recognizing him there. Everyone was in a hurry. No one would remember the face of an ordinary old man in a crowd. In addition, there was a reason why he kept a bunch of wigs, glasses, and mustaches in the middle drawer of his dresser. He changed his appearance, depending on the situation.

  He entered the building, said hi to the security guard, and when the security guard asked him for his I.D., Morris didn’t hesitate for a second, producing a driver’s license—somebody else’s driver’s license with his picture on it. His father taught him that too. Those two months when he was out of prison were prolific. Justin Smith. Not a bad name. So common and ordinary, no one could possibly pay special attention to it. Or to him. Today, Morris added a short mustache, wore glasses in a heavy frame on his nose, and a checkered cap.

  After getting his document back and receiving an explanation of how to find the printing company, he took an elevator to the third floor, thinking of his physical condition. He couldn’t walk three floors up and he should be to. Maybe it would be a good idea to start exercising. He thought about it often. He didn’t have to go to the gym. Some weights at home, some running in the backyard over his land of dead flowers. His hobby required good physical form. When he was younger he was fine without exercise, but it was a different now and he had to act accordingly. By the time he reached the needed door, Morris made another decision, to play sports. Maybe, in the future, it would help him deal with these thoughts and the desire that scratched at his soul.

  He entered the office with a high reception desk. Behind it, he found a young blonde, eighteen, maybe twenty. Too young for such work. He saw head tops of three employees. One of them was red.

  Morris’s heart jumped up and fell down. The excitement was overwhelming. He always tried to reduce the risk and didn’t meet his girls before the abduction, but he always wanted it. He wanted to look in their eyes, talk to them, make them trust him. It greatly enhanced the sensation of the game. It added to their shock, confusion, and disappointment that followed later.

  This time he needed her to see him and trust him.

  The blonde hadn’t noticed him. She concentrated on her Apple laptop, running her fingers over the keyboard. She was so involved that she stuck out her tongue.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” Morris said in his most polite voice.

  “Hi. How can I help you?” the blonde asked, barely giving him a glance.

  Morris smiled. He would like to hear her voice in his shed.

  “I’d like to order business cards. Is it possible?”

  “Just a second.” The girl typed for another ten seconds before turning her irritated face to Morris. How did he dare to bother her? She smiled, despite her obvious frustration. Her smile was crooked, angry, but she tried her best to represent her company’s slogan. We are the friendliest faces in town. The poster with the slogan hung on the wall near her table.

  “Do you want to fill in the information yourself? Some people prefer that. They don’t want to spell their names to me.” She pointed to a stack of small papers then unwrapped a strip of gum, and flung it in her mouth. “Just write your name, the name of your company, font. There are some samples you can choose from.”

  Morris followed her finger to the stand with a dozen or more card styles. He thanked her, took the form, and sneaked another glance at the employees before settling at the table. His redhead was just as concentrated at her computer as the receptionist was. Only she was really working. She was dressed in a black turtleneck; small diamonds sparkled in her ears. She didn’t turn to h
im. Unfortunately. Morris filled out the form, stopping a second short of entering his real name. He wrote the name “Magic” for his company. He wrote some phone numbers and his last name, Smith. He chose black background, no pictures, and golden letters.

  “Just fifty?” the blonde asked, as she looked away from his order. She wasn’t happy with him at all.

  “That’s good for now. When will they be ready?”

  “Three days. If you want it sooner, you have to pay ten dollars extra.”

  “Three days is fine.”

  “Do you want to put your address on the card?”

  “Phone is enough.” Morris smiled politely and patiently, and then shifted a little, so he could better see his redhead. “What are those swirls?” he asked loud enough for her to hear. He could see in his side vision that blonde was staring at him, and he felt waves of anger coming from her. If she could, she would hit him on the head with something heavy, for sure.

  Redhead shuddered, turned to Morris, but her eyes stayed blurry for a few seconds while she swam back to reality, then they cleared up as if adjusting to the light from the darkness.

  “Are you talking to me?” she asked.

  “I like it,” Morris said, pushing the glasses up his nose. “What’s this?”

  “Just working on a logo for a company. Do you like it?”

  “Yes. It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” Redhead smiled. A gentle smile, tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her skin was smooth, freckles covered her nose. Morris couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Have we met?” redhead asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “I would remember you,” Morris said. “I don’t think so.”

  Redhead blushed and lowered her eyes for a second. She was perfect. He couldn’t dream of anyone better. What a lucky bastard he was.

  “Hi, Katy!” Morris heard behind his back and strained muscles on his face to keep up his smile. Redhead turned to a newly arrived man.

  “Antony!” the blonde answered in a sudden high-pitched voice. Morris looked at her. What a change he saw in her. A real smile, flirting eyes. She had offered none of this to him. Morris wanted to strangle her. No one ever looked at him this way, even when he was younger. Like there was something wrong with him. Damn snotters.