The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  Darby takes a drink of her morning coffee. “No, he went to work in Fort McMurray last I heard.” She grinds her jaw, turning toward the window. A boxy brown UPS truck pulls up in front of the station, and a smallish girl dressed in jeans and a dark green parka jumps out. She walks purposefully toward them, head down, hands jammed in her pockets, short, thick, brown curls bouncing. As she reaches the door she hesitates, then opens it and steps in, looking at the two women visiting in the front reception area.

  She has a small face, tawny-skin, with sharp cheekbones, a pointed chin and startling green eyes. She stares a moment before moving to the counter.

  Darby strolls toward her. “Hi. What can we do for you?”

  The woman glances at the detective, a haunted look in her eyes. “It’s my sister,” she says. Her voice is low and quiet. “She’s disappeared.”

  “How long has she been gone?” Darby asks, keeping her tone gentle. This woman hasn’t come here easily.

  “Since last night.”

  “Is it unusual behaviour for her?”

  Eyes down-cast, the young woman thinks for a moment. “It’s not that unusual, but she didn’t take her coat. We were together at the Hogshead. She left, and she said she’d be right back.” She speaks so quietly Darby strains to listen.

  “Let’s go sit in my office,” Darby says. “Would you like coffee?”

  The woman shrugs and shakes her head. No. But she follows the officer willingly and sits on the edge of the chair facing Darby, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

  Darby holds out her hand. “I’m Darby Greer. Call me Darby. And you are...?”

  “Em,” is the reply.

  “Em, tell me about the last time you saw your sister.”

  “We were in the bar. Suddenly she got up and headed toward the restroom and she didn’t come back.”

  Darby chews her lip. “Did she say anything when she left?”

  “She said she’d just be a minute.”

  “But she didn’t come back.” Darby’s eye-brows furrow. “How long were you there waiting?”

  “I sat there for at least an hour. Then I went out looking for her. She wasn’t anywhere.”

  “Did you see anyone in the pub that she might have left with?”

  “No.”

  “Anything unusual happen that night?”

  Em sits perfectly still, her eyes closed. Her hands fidget. Finally, she speaks, her voice a low rumble. “There was an old associate of my dad’s there. But we haven’t seen him in years and I don’t think he saw us.”

  Darby pins Em with her eyes, her head tilted, waiting for more. But it doesn’t come. “Can you tell me about this former associate?” she asks.

  Em takes a deep breath, and exhales loudly. “Well, he was in business with our dad a long time ago. I don’t know what kind of business. We were just kids.”

  “And last night you saw him in the pub for the first time since you were kids.” It’s more a statement than a question.

  Em nods. Yes.

  “Did the relationship end badly?” Darby pries.

  Em nods, looking downcast.

  “Is it possible he had anything to do with your sister’s disappearance?”

  Em’s jaw tightens, almost imperceptibly. She is silent for a long while, thinking. “I don’t know. He left quite a while before Scarlett did. I don’t think Scarlett went looking for him. But I don’t know.” She shrugs.

  “Okay. Do you know his last name?”

  Em shakes her head. No. “But my dad would know.”

  “Does your dad live around here?” Darby asks.

  “I think he’s in Red Deer. But Scarlett wouldn’t be with him.”

  Darby brightens a little. “What’s your sister’s phone number? Let’s see if we can track her phone.” She goes to her computer, and types in the number Em gives her. After a few minutes she sighs. “Hmmm. She must have it turned off. We’ll continue to check periodically.” Darby grabs a yellow sticky from her desk and writes. “Have you checked with the hospital? Her place of work or anywhere else she might go? Her friends? Other family?” Darby asks.

  “No.” A flush creeps across Em’s cheeks. “I was just driving by and thought I’d check in.”

  “And that’s okay,” Darby says. “Check around a little more, and let us know. Do you have a photo of your sister? I’ll send it to officers across the county, and we’ll see if any of them have run across her. If you don’t find her, come back. We want to help.”

  “Thank you.” Em texts Darby the photo and rises abruptly to leave.

  “Take my card,” Darby says, brushing the young woman’s arm and tucking it in her pocket. “And don’t be afraid to get in touch. We want your sister safe. That’s what we’re here for.”

  Em nods jerkily, flashes a half smile, and rushes out the door.

  Chapter 3

  ~ Em~

  Em pulls into the yard, carefully maneuvering her truck through the narrow door of the garage. The tires crunch on the gravel floor. It’s dark outside. The sun sets early now, and her headlights shine brightly onto the garage’s chip-board wall.

  Sheba, who has been lying on the front porch in wait, greets her, tailing wagging a mile-a-minute. Em bends to hug her dog, rubbing her nose in her soft fur. “Hello, old girl. Good to see you!”

  When they enter the house Em can smell onions frying, and beef. Her stomach rumbles. “It smells good in here!” She pulls off her boots, setting them carefully on the rack in the back entrance.

  The kitchen is warm and steamy; comforting after a long, distressing day in and out of the cold. And Em can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.

  Abigail stands by the stove, stirring a pot and humming a little tune. Her long, blonde hair is braided and hangs down her slender back, little wisps framing an angelic face. She turns to smile at Em, her blue eyes shining. “I came home early to make us a nice dinner,” she says cheerily. “Are you hungry?”

  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was till I smelled your nice dinner,” Em says, plunking herself down on a kitchen chair. “What are you cooking?

  “It’s a surprise,” Abigail tells her with an impish grin.

  Em gazes lovingly at her little sister. “Did you hear anything from Scarlett today?”

  Abigail’s smooth brow wrinkles and her eyes take on a worried look. “No. You still haven’t heard from her?”

  Em pulls the heavy sweater she’s wearing over her head, laying it on her lap. “No. I stopped in at the police station and they suggested checking the hospital, so I did. Nothing. I checked the restaurant and she wasn’t in, but she’s not scheduled to work until tomorrow. I called the only friends of hers I know. Can you think of anything else we can do?”

  Abigail inclines her head, thinking. “I don’t think I know any of Scarlett’s friends. I could ask around.”

  Em watches her sister turn back to the stove. Everything about her is precious from her fine-featured face to the tips of her graceful little feet. A life that began horribly has become exquisite.

  EM LETS HER MIND DRIFT back to that terrible time. January, 1998.

  The Christmas tree was still up in the living room, though the wrappings and presents had been stowed away. The holidays were nearing an end, and Em and Scarlett burst into the house with red-tipped noses and rosy cheeks. They’d been making a snow fort and throwing snowballs at one another in the yard. Now they were ready for the fresh-baked cookies and milk their mother promised them. But there was no cookie smell, and their mother was not in the kitchen.

  “Mom?” Scarlett called, peeling off her snowsuit, mitts and scarf. Em followed her sister, roaming throughout the house calling, “Mommy?” They scrambled through the living room, the dining room, the hallway and up the stairs to the bedrooms throwing open doors and calling. “Mom?”

  Scarlett ran into their parents’ room first, and screamed. A high-pitched, endless screech that reverberated through Em’s head. She stood, her heart thudd
ing, behind her sister. Peeking around Scarlett, who stood stiff and still in front of their mother’s bed, fear clawed at Em’s gut. Then she saw it. The pit of her stomach fell to her feet. Blood. Dark and cherry-red. Everywhere. Blood filled the bed, puddling on the floor, streaking white, naked legs, soaking the bed-sheets. Filling the room with a thick, metallic smell. The little girls froze, gaping, filled with horror. It seemed forever. Finally, Scarlett screamed, “Phone 9-1-1. Get Dad! Go!” Em lurched from the room, tumbled down the stairs, streaked across the living room to the kitchen and grabbed the phone.

  She remembers the ear-piercing sirens, the paramedics rushing in, rushing out carrying her mother and the baby. She can still see her sister’s face, white, filled with terror. And her father crumpling to the floor in front of them, sobbing.

  NOW, ABIGAIL, THE DAUGHTER that never knew her mother, stands in the kitchen surrounded by white light. A miracle. Beautiful. Cherished above everything Em holds dear.

  “Em, I have someone I want you to meet.” Her eyes sparkle, and her lips turn up into a mysterious little smile.

  Em tilts her head, and looks suitably curious. She’s had an inkling for a while. Once, when visiting Abigail in the church office where Abi is secretary, Em witnessed the minister’s son slipping out the back door. Her sister has been secretively texting a lot lately, and has that giddy, bewitched look that suggests she is besotted. ‘Twitterpated’ Scarlett calls it.

  “You do? Who?” Em rubs her hands on her thighs, and moves to the stove to give what looks like a robust stew a stir.

  Abigail flounces toward Em, and places her hands on her sister’s shoulders. Her face is flushed; almost glistening. Her clear, blue eyes shimmer with excitement. “Well, he’s my soul-mate. The person that I relate to on such a high level.” She looks earnestly into her sister’s eyes, willing her to understand. Wanting her to be as delighted as she, herself, is.

  Em curls her lips into a smile, nodding, anxious to show the appropriate level of enthusiasm. She is so happy! It warms her heart to see her sister this way.

  Abigail hesitates, making sure that Em fully understands the wonder of this discourse. “His name is Matthew Goodall, and he’s Pastor Goodall’s son. He’s going to be a pastor one day too.”

  Em nods, still smiling.

  “He’s so handsome and smart and nice, Em. I know you’ll love him. Can we have him for dinner soon?”

  “Of course we can, Abi.” Em hugs her sister briefly, and stands back to look her in the eye. “This is your house too. You don’t have to ask me.”

  Abigail blinks, nodding. “But I want you to be here. To be nice to him.” She raises her eyebrows.

  ‘Nice’ is not my normal with strangers, Em thinks to herself. “I’ll try, Abi. When?”

  Abigail touches her hand to her heart and dances a light little jig. “Tomorrow? Can I ask him to come tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” Em picks up the sweater that sits on the chair, and carries it to the hooks in the porch.

  Her phone pings, and she reaches into her parka pocket to pull it out. “Sure, that’d be nice, Abi.” She looks at her phone. A text. Adrenaline rushes through her body. It’s Scarlett! “I’ve decided to stay away for a bit,” is all it says.

  What? Without any explanation? Without any clothes or anything?

  Em taps a text back. ‘Where r u?’

  Chapter 4

  ~Darby~

  Their world on this day is a fairyland, glittery white. The branches of trees, in all shapes and sizes, are chockfull of tiny frost spikes that glimmer enchantingly. The hills, the meadow, the mountains in the distance are covered in a blanket of glistening snow. Soft white flakes fall softly, little wet plops on their faces and on the backs of their horses.

  Darby rides a bay gelding, her beloved Bojangles, and Skye is astride a black and white Appaloosa mare. Darby watches Skye ride ahead of her, tall and relaxed in the saddle, swaying slightly to the movement of her horse. She smiles to herself. Skye’s a natural horsewoman. Here, she is herself, shedding her worries over friends, being called names, feeling isolated because she is shy and because of the color of her skin. Here, she needn’t try to fit in. She just does.

  Sighing happily, Darby throws her head back, and stares up at the clear blue sky. It’s been a perfect day. They’ve ridden through valleys and meadows, crossed icy little streams. reached out to pick the berries from mountain ash trees, sprinkling them into the ditch, brilliant red on white. They’ve paused to watch a mother deer with her baby wandering through the woods. Listened to the sounds of their horse’s hooves, muffled in the powdery snow. Felt the crisp air brush their faces, as they call out to each other, “What plant is that?”, pointing to a tall leafy stem with a dead flower hanging on for dear life.

  “That’s a Joe Pye weed!”

  “There’s yarrow!” They’ve matched each other’s pace all day, sometimes riding at a slow canter, stopping to enjoy breath-taking views. Other times they’ve let their horses gallop full-throttle. Bojangles and Skye’s horse, Matilda, compete for lead position. They take turns moving ahead.

  In a magical secluded hollow they stop to eat sandwiches, ham and mustard on bread, honey-crisp apples and store-bought oatmeal-raisin cookies.

  Darby, one leg outstretched, one drawn to her chest, sits on the ground oblivious of the cold beneath her. She grins, watching Skye flop to the ground, loose and care-free for a change. “Isn’t this wonderful?” she says, gesturing toward the landscape in front of them.

  Skye laughs a chirpy giggle; a laugh Darby hasn’t heard from her before. “It makes me so happy!”

  It’s almost dark when they canter back to the corral. After untacking and watering their horses, they lead them around the yard, relishing the frosty night air that bites their beaming faces.

  “Hey!” comes a friendly voice from the fence nearby.

  “Jim!” Darby’s eyes glisten. She wanders toward the fence. “Skye, come over here. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Skye hesitates, then takes a few steps toward her.

  “When did you come back to town?” Darby asks the good-looking, rangy man standing on a railing.

  “I just got in last night. I was working in Fort McMurray the last six months or so.”

  Darby stares at the ground, kicking at the snow with her toe. She looks up, a crooked smile on her face. “It’s good to see ya.”. She looks downward again, then up into Jim’s smiling eyes. She takes a quick breath. “Hey, I want you to meet Skye.” Turning to the young girl who is standing awkwardly several meters behind her, she calls, “Skye, come meet my friend, Jim.”

  Warily, Skye inches her way to Darby’s side.

  “Hello, there, Skye. What a privilege to meet you. I can see you make my friend Darby here very happy.”

  The enthusiasm in his voice is contagious. Skye moves toward him and reaches out to take his hand. “Hi.”

  THE THREE END UP AT Dairy Queen, at a little white table in the restaurant that is brightly lit and soothingly warm after a day outside. They slip their jackets off, hanging them on the backs of their chairs, and lean against them. Jim sits across the table from Darby and Skye. His eyes glisten, as he listens to them talk about their day.

  “There’s nothing so exhilarating and, at the same time, relaxing as horseback riding, is there?” he says.

  Darby has never seen Skye so untroubled and happy. So much so that suddenly she leans toward Darby, looking across at Jim and says, quietly, “I think I’ve found a friend.”

  Darby feels a sudden lightness; an expanding in her chest. The little information she’s been able to glean from the girl tells her that, although Skye gets through each day, she’s been unable to make friends at her new school. She is picked last for teams in gym class. She eats lunch alone, her nose stuck in a book, listening to the buzzing chatter around her. She walks the halls alone. She talks to no one. It breaks Darby’s heart. “Oh, Skye, that’s great! Who?”

  Skye inhales a deep breath, and lowers
her eyes. “Well, a new girl named Ravneet. She doesn’t know anyone, so she asked if she could have lunch with me. And we talked and we both like the same things.”

  Darby squeezes her arm. “So nice when you have things in common, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe we could take her riding with us sometime?” Jim says.

  Skye nods eagerly.

  SLEEP DOESN’T COME easily. Darby wills her mind to still but images of Skye smiling, deer, trees, snow . . . conversations . . . Jim’s face, the deep dimples in his cheeks . . . She shivers. It’ll be okay. If we just remain friends. No more.

  Chapter 5

  ~Em~

  A freezing rain during the early morning hours has made the streets slippery. Thank god for snow tires! Em drives her route as quickly as possible, stopping to deliver parcels at houses along the way. Some are closed-up, some bursting with life and youth and excitement; all receiving Christmas gifts or anticipated orders. This is not a job bereft of personal satisfaction.

  She’s promised Abigail she’ll get home as early as possible to make sure everything is up to snuff in the house, and to help cook dinner. But her mind is a whirlwind of worry.

  She can’t shake the feeling that something is not right. Where is Scarlett? True, her older sister is flighty and impulsive, but Scarlett likes her creature comforts and it’s not like her to take off without even a jacket. She’s irresponsible, but not so irresponsible as to say, “I’ll be right back,” and then decide to leave overnight. And where would she go? Granted, neither Em or Abigail know much about her private life. She’s often away from home. With her job as a waitress at the Hunter’s Bar and Grill she works odd hours. And she does like to party.