“Take your time,” the driver said.
Alyssa smiled but then gasped when she pulled her hand into her lap and saw the blood covering her fingers. “Oh…, I am so sorry, I don’t want to mess up your—”
“—Don’t worry about it, Ma’am,” the driver said. “I needed to get the car cleaned anyway. Look, I’ll take you wherever you need to go, but I insist we take you to a doctor. Those cuts look pretty deep.”
“I was running for quite some time,” Alyssa said. “Since just after dawn, and I guess I tore up my feet.”
“Running barefoot in the woods?” the driver asked.
“I…, I was running away,” Alyssa said.
“Who from? Look…, maybe you should just go ahead tell me what is going on.”
“I guess I do owe you that,” Alyssa said. “After all, you are a true lifesaver. I…, I really doubt you will believe me…, but…, the short version of my story is, my boyfriend and I are having a major disagreement about my pregnancy, and I had to run.”
“Oh? You are pregnant?” the driver said. “Why…, you aren’t showing a bit.”
“You are kind,” Alyssa said. “But, you are obviously a good liar.”
“I never lie,” the driver said as he turned to her and smiled.
“You are quite the charmer,” Alyssa said. “I am definitely pregnant. None of my jeans fit worth a damn anymore. I know in a few weeks I will have to break down and get some maternity clothes.”
“So, let me guess,” the driver said. “You want to keep the baby, and the boyfriend doesn’t, right?”
“Well…, sort of,” Alyssa said. “I definitely want to keep it, and he…, I…, I can’t really talk about it. It is just too—”
“—Raw,” the driver said. “I get it. But, don’t you worry about a thing, girl. You are in good hands, now.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. Alyssa sighed. She felt safe and for the first time in weeks, she was at peace. He cupped her chin with his palm and a smile formed on her face before it disappeared into a wince.
“That’s it!” the driver said. “I’m taking you to a doctor.”
“That’s all right. I’m OK,” Alyssa said. “The baby just started kicking a couple of days ago, and I am still not quite used to it. It catches you off guard, you know.”
“I can imagine it would, but, it is wonderful, though,” the driver said. “New life is the greatest gift. I haven’t had any children, but, if I did, I know I would be thrilled to feel the first stirring of life.”
Alyssa sat up straight in the car and looked at the driver again. Nothing about him registered odd or menacing on her internal monitoring system. She was an expert in sniffing out perves…, well, all except for Daryl, but with this guy it was different. It was all clear. There was something sincere, earnest, and warm about him. The fact he looked like a model and had such a great car didn’t hurt matters either. Butterflies rustled in her stomach, but these were not from nerves. These were stirring elsewhere. Her eyes flashed, and she felt a warm tingle run up her body from her toes as she gently bit her lower lip. With a sigh coming from her mouth, she lifted his right hand up from the armrest between them and pressed it firmly against the side of her belly.
“Can you feel it kick?” she asked.
The driver smiled and said, “Oh, yes!” He paused and then added, “oh, glorious woman who life bestows, who calms the reaper from ceaseless mow. Like sprig of pine or babbling brook, from the darkest green verdant nook, Spirit come forth and shine upon, this blessed daughter of your golden dawn.”
“How beautiful,” Alyssa said. “Just beautiful. What is it?”
“A blessing,” the driver said. “A blessing for your baby.”
“Wow, I am so honored. It is…,” Alyssa said. “It is like you are a —”
“—Priest?” the driver interrupted.
“Yes,” Alyssa said. “Are you a priest?”
“I am,” the driver said. “Just up this way on regular circuit.”
Alyssa laughed and shook her head. “Just my fricking luck. I finally meet a nice guy, who is handsome and kind, and he turns out to be a priest! Oh well…, another great idea of mine shot to hell.” She pressed her index finger against the crew collar of his black t-shirt and said, “You must be in your civvies, today. You know this is false advertising, sir! You need to announce your…, vows.”
“Sorry,” the driver said. “We don’t always stay in uniform, you know.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Say…,” the driver said, “the next town is still a little way off. I thought we could catch some lunch when we get there.”
“Sounds great,” Alyssa said. “I am starving.”
“Me too. In the meantime, do you mind if I put on some tunes to pass the time?”
“Not a bit,” Alyssa said as she stretched her arms up over her head and luxuriated in the feel of the wind rushing through her fingers. “It might keep my mind off my bloody feet.”
The driver reached across to the dashboard and turned on his MP3 player. He turned the volume up loud to compensate for the rushing air. He glanced over at Alyssa and winked. He said, “and such a lovely pair of feet, too.”
“Oh…,” Alyssa said. “I didn’t think priests noticed such things.”
The driver said nothing but smiled.
Once the first few chords of the music played, Alyssa nodded and said, “Oh, I know this song. It reminds me of back home.”
“Me too,” the driver said.
The singer’s haunting voice began to belt out the mournful tune — “I…, am a man, of constant sorrow. I’ve seen trouble all my days…”
Chapter 22
April 30th, 1996 - Daniel Boone Motor Lodge - Room 214 - Pikeville, Kentucky - 7:45 AM
John stood in front of the large motel window staring out at the empty, leaf-filled pool in the courtyard. Summer was still a few months away, so he supposed it was possible it would be emptied and re-filled, but the evidence showed otherwise. The faded depth markers, shredded beach umbrellas, and dry rotted lounge chairs encircling the ruin indicated there had not been very many swimmers here lately. What would be the point? Coupled with the rusty brown shag carpeting beneath his feet, and the cheesy wood paneling in his room, everything at the Daniel Boone Motor Lodge, like the pool, was in decline. In fact, the whole town of Pikeville seemed caught in a cycle of perpetual descent. It was as if a neutron bomb exploded twenty years ago and locked everything into a 1970s kitschy hellscape, the people all gone but the buildings remaining. This town was definitely not on the regular tourist circuit. This was no rural haven or rustic vacation spot. This was something else entirely. Someplace John would never want to visit, but it was precisely where he needed to be — and it sickened him.
His mind drifted back on the events of the past few days. The long trip from New York to Pikeville had matched his spirits — one long greasy slide into decay and doom. The darkness grew as each milepost whizzed by his car. Once John turned off I-81 onto route 460, it was as if the fading light became even dimmer. There were more restaurants closed than open, and he witnessed more plywood-covered businesses than he had ever seen before in his life. The sign in front of the local U-Haul rental center said it all — “Sorry, no outbound trucks available until further notice.” Hard times had come to Pikeville, and from the looks of things, they had come quite a while ago.
He refocused his thoughts on the present and resumed staring out the window. He sipped the stale coffee from his Styrofoam cup. It was supposed to help shake his headache. It didn’t. There had been a dull throb in his skull for three days now, never quite letting up. As the caffeine took root, his synapses loosened, and the blood vessels in his brain began pumping. He sighed. It was a little better. It wasn’t perfect, but, it was the best he could hope for under the circumstances.
As he finished his coffee, he ran his hand over his abdomen. The sharp pain there matched the one in his head. His mind, and his gut, were in a riot of dread
. It took all his will just to target his scattered thoughts onto something — anything but the horror of the present.
John squeezed his eyes tight. He could not dwell on that right now. He didn’t have the luxury for grief. Grief will not save Billy. All he could do was move forward, like a sleepwalker meandering through an endless fog on autopilot. His constant calls to the police for status updates on the search for Billy, all ended with the same answer — no updates at this time. Well-meaning social workers repeatedly said, “We are doing all we can do. We will call you if there is any change.” It all made him want to scream.
When he was finally able to wrestle his thoughts away from the horror of Billy’s kidnapping, his mind flooded with memories of Sylvia. The endless days spent at her hospital bedside — hoping, pleading, cursing at her to wake up. His prayers were all for naught. She had checked out. Perhaps he should do the same. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? To just slip away into those warm, inviting dark waters of madness — no worries there, only the sane left to clean up the mess. But, he could not. He would not. He had to move. He had to do something. He looked down at his watch. It was past eight. They should be open now. Closing his eyes tight, he prayed one last futile prayer — Please God…, please! Please let me find Billy. Please!
After a quick unproductive call to his phone service to check for messages, there were none, he got into his car and made the drive to the Pikeville police station. It was a short trip. Traffic, or what counts as traffic in rural Eastern Kentucky, was light. His biggest challenge was avoiding being run off the narrow mountain road by one of the enormous coal trucks frequenting the highway. They were out in great abundance today. After a few close calls, he arrived in the center square of Pikeville and parked his car. Glancing in his mirror, John straightened his tie and double checked the envelope he was carrying — twenty copies, it should be more than enough.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked as John walked inside the station. Her accent was thick but pleasant.
“Yes, I was hoping to talk to the detective in charge of old missing person cases?”
“Well…, he’s out right now,” she said with a smile. “But if you leave your information, I can have him—”
“—Oh…, well, how about regular cases, then,” John said as he started to open his envelope. “I need to see if anyone in your department has ever seen the man in this picture.”
The receptionist laughed and said, “Well…, they’re out too.”
“Out? The whole department is out?”
“It ain’t a big department,” the receptionist said. “It’s only Buddy. Well, Buddy and me, but I ain’t technically official, only part-time.”
“Buddy?”
“Buddy Johnson,” the receptionist said. “He’s our chief of police. And…, well…, you see, he goes fishing at this time of year. Sort of our slack time, you know.”
“Your whole department is one guy?” John asked. “What if there is an emergency?”
“I can always get him on the radio. He does stop by to check on things at least once a day,” the receptionist said. “He ain’t that far away, though. He likes to go fishing up near the Big Tug river out on—”
“—When do you expect him in?” John interrupted.
“I can’t say, really,” the receptionist said. “Like Buddy always says, there’s Eastern Standard time, there’s Daylight Savings time, and best of all, there is Fishing time. Rules are a bit different during fishing time. Instead of a leap forward, fall back, it is more like fall way-way back - like eight days back!”
“Has he checked in today?”
“No, not yet,” the receptionist said as she glanced up at a large clock on the wall. She pointed at John’s envelope in his hand, and said, “But hey, if you leave a copy of the picture, I will leave him a note, and I am sure he will get right back to you. Do you have a number you can be reached?”
“I don’t live around here,” John said. “Look…, it is critical I speak with him today. I have to get back to New York as soon as possible. My wife is very ill.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. But, I can’t promise you when he will—”
“—You could radio him, though,” John said.
“That is only for emergencies,” the receptionist said. “Buddy’s real strict on that.”
“My little boy has been kidnapped! I think that’s a pretty big emergency!”
“Oh, my!” the receptionist said. “I am so sorry. Let me get all of your information!” She paused and added, “But…, I thought you said this was an old case?”
“The picture is connected to my son’s disappearance. He was kidnapped in New York, ten days ago.”
“New York?”
“Yes, New York, and I have reason to believe my son has been brought to Pikeville,” John said.
“I assume you reported this to the New York Police, then?” the receptionist said.
“Of course, I did! What kind of father do you think I—”
“—Please, sir, no need to shout,” the receptionist said. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Sorry,” John said. “As you can imagine, this has been the most hellish few weeks of my life.”
“I cannot imagine what you must be going through. You will definitely be in my thoughts,” the receptionist said. She pointed at the envelope in John’s hand and added, “Are those pictures of your son, then?”
“No,” John said. “They are copies of the police sketch made of the man that took my son.”
“Can I see them?” she said.
John nodded and passed her one of the pictures.
“He is quite a handsome fellow, isn’t he?” the receptionist said. “And a priest? This is very strange. Very strange indeed.”
“I don’t know if I would call the bastard who kidnapped my son handsome!” John shouted.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” the receptionist said. “I was just making an observation. And, I think, it may end up being good news.”
“I cannot possibly see how,” John barked.
“A guy like that is not going to be able to melt away into a crowd. He will definitely be noticed. Someone will recognize his picture. I am sure of it, but…, what exactly is the connection to Pikeville? I would have thought the NYPD would have—”
“—It’s a hunch I have,” John said. “My wife was adopted from here, but, under very mysterious circumstances.”
“Mysterious circumstances?”
“It’s a long story, but, I think her birth parents were into some kind of…, I don’t know, cult or something. I knew her adopted Mom and Dad very well. I just know there must have been some crucial reason they adopted her with no paperwork or any official records. I think she may have been taken from her birth parents against their will, and I am guessing Sylvia was taken for a good reason.”
“That is quite a charge,” the receptionist said.
“It is, but, I discovered Sylvia was born here despite her official records showing otherwise. Her father had a vacation home in Pikeville. That can’t be a coincidence. I think he may have abducted her on one of those trips and brought her back to New York, and I think this man in the picture was part of that cult. He may have taken our son as revenge. There was no official adoption paperwork for Sylvia, so it is quite a mystery.”
“Ah,” the receptionist said, “When do you think your wife’s abduction would have taken place?”
“Back in 1976,” John said.
“Well…, now I understand why you wanted to see the cold case files, then,” the receptionist said. “What do the NYPD say about all of this?”
“They aren’t that enthused about my hunch,” John said.
“I see,” the receptionist said flatly. She looked up at the clock and added, “Well, even though I can’t use the radio for just a hunch, hopefully, Buddy will check in soon. I am sure he will try to help if he can. I can call you if you—”
“—I’ll wait,” John said as he turned to hi
s right and spied a plastic orange chair. “If that is OK with you?”
“OK with me,” the receptionist said, “but it might be a while. I would look through the files myself, but, I am not authorized.”
“I understand,” John said.
“You know, Buddy has been in Pikeville forever,” the receptionist said. “I am sure if there were any child abductions here twenty years ago, he would remember.”
“OK,” John said dismissively as he gritted his teeth and picked up a magazine from the table in front of him.
“Would you like a honey bun and coffee while you wait?” the receptionist said. “I just feel terrible you have to sit here.”
“Honey bun?”
“Oh yeah, trust me, once you take a bite, you will think you went to heaven. It’ll make the wait go by faster. Let me rustle you up one. Buddy loves them and buys them by the case. We have an extra couple of boxes in the back.”
*****
Hours passed as John waited for Buddy to return. He ended up eating several honey buns and consumed at least a gallon of coffee during his wait. By the end of the day, his eyes were blurry as he had read, and re-read the three back issues of US Weekly magazine in the lobby at least eight times. If nothing else happened today, he knew he was entirely current on every conceivable angle of Mariah Carey’s love life and what the Spice Girls wore out to all of the hottest clubs in London. As it neared five o’clock, the receptionist said, “I am so sorry, but, it doesn’t look like Buddy is coming in today after all.”
John grunted and stood up. “I don’t mind telling you, I am underwhelmed by the Pikeville Police so far.”
“I am sorry,” the receptionist said. “But, my offer still stands. I can take one of your pictures and show it to Buddy when he comes in. There really was no need for you to wait around like this all day.”
“I just need to see if he recognizes the man in the sketch. I can’t leave Pikeville until I know for sure,” John said. “I doubt it would take five seconds of his time.”
Eye Bleach Page 24