They hadn’t talked about it for a few weeks but the topic was still open for debate. Terry had always had dogs as a child, his foster parents being huge dog lovers. Matt however wasn’t very pet orientated. Terry was still trying to win him over, even the allure of sex hadn’t manipulated Matt into agreeing.
“What type of dog?” He’d asked both of the girls this question. Last time they discussed it Bridget was for a Pug and Christine wanted a Maltese.
“…A pug,” Bridget answered brightly. The glimmer of hope resonated with Terry, he understood her longing. He had to give her credit for being solely focussed on a pug.
“…Your dad doesn’t want a little dog,” Terry offered.
Bridget’s face turned down a little.
“He wants a big dog?”
Terry nodded.
“But what?”
“A German Shepherd he said,” Terry answered unenthusiastically. He wasn’t keen on the breed himself. He wondered whether Matt was tripping on the whole police-dog aspect.
Matt’s second suggestion had been a Labrador, but Terry had argued passionately that they took several years grow up. He wasn’t prepared to look after a giant puppy for the next five years.
Bridget sighed. The German Shepherd didn’t appeal to her obviously.
“Couldn’t we just… y’know come home with a dog?” Bridget offered in a small voice.
Terry grinned.
“And come home with what? I think your dad will freak!”
“I don’t know… We could rescue one,” she shrugged, “Something big but not too big…” she added.
Terry didn’t respond. He understood Bridget’s desires, yet he couldn’t go against Matt. Part of him yearned to just get a puppy and throw it on Matt, but he couldn’t follow through. Terry thought of the advert he’d seen the other day. Dog De Bordeaux puppies. God he yearned for one of them. The giant breed appealed on every level. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment to propose it to Matt.
“I think your dad would be mad with us…” He offered after a moment.
“But Dad’ll love having a dog! I know he will!” She was right. Terry knew it too.
“I’ll ask him, as soon as I get chance. I promise. I want a dog too, its not just you…”
He gave Bridget a little parcel of hope and she took it hungrily. Her features lit up at the possibility of light at the end of the tunnel, or in this case - a puppy.
“Will Dad be home tonight?” She enquired.
“I don’t know kid, he’s busy at work,” he shrugged. That little bright ray of sunshine raining down on her shrank a little.
“He’s never home…” she sighed.
“I know sweet, but he’s busy. I promise he wants to be home, he’s just… busy…” Terry looked forward to the day when both the girls could understand the magnitude of Matt’s work. He was out there saving lives. But then again he did understand how they felt. He was the husband and he missed him just as much as the girls.
“Where’s your sister?” Terry slowly became aware that the playground was emptying. Christine was usually the first one out.
He climbed off the wall and began to head across the playground. Bridget followed, the pair of them weaving through the crowd of kids and parents. He saw Christine, she was being kept back by a teacher he didn’t recognise. The teacher must be new, a supply teacher because she didn’t register Terry approach.
“Hello, I’m here for Christine Logan?” he asked.
“Oh, there you are! Sorry, I was just hoping I could have a little chat with you…?”
Terry’s attention turned from the woman before him to a sheepish Christine by her side.
“Is there a problem?”
“Come inside,” she invited warmly.
This teacher was pretty, a fresh face untouched by the pressures of teaching. There was still time… As he followed her inside and into Christine’s classroom, he guessed she was freshly qualified. She batted her long blonde hair from her face as she gestured for Terry to enter.
“Wait out here you two,” he ordered the girls as he sensed the teacher wanted to hold a private conversation. Christine looked guilty and Bridget rolled her eyes. As the teacher shut the door behind him he was sure he heard Bridget remark “what you done now?” to her younger sister.
“I’m Mrs Pittal, I’m new here. I’m filling in for Mrs Roberts,”
“Oh, is Mrs Roberts okay?” He almost tripped himself up by referring directly to the cancer. That was not open knowledge.
“Yes, she’s just on temporary leave,”
A diplomatic way to say she was on sick. Terry smiled warmly.
“Please, take a seat…” she pointed to the table nearby.
He hesitated. The table came to his knee and the chair would barely hold him if he sat on it. Did she seriously mean for him to sit down? Surely she had registered just how tall he was? He opted against taking the seat. Mrs Pittal, or Kirsty he learnt as it slipped inside his mind, returned to him holding a painting.
“I just want to ask. Is there something going off at home? Between you and Mrs Logan…?”
Terry was rendered stupefied for a split second. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he blinked. She handed him the painting.
It was a crude scene. Two stickmen and two smaller stickmen stood in front of a house. On the other side of the A4 piece of paper another stickman appeared to be locked in a cell. The prisoner had long yellow hair and a sad frown. The two other stickmen were pretty indescribable, but he guessed the smaller two were representations of Bridget and Christine. He saw a white blob on a lead, complete with three long legs and a fluffy tail.
“Is that a dog?” he pointed.
It was Pittal’s turn to be surprised.
“Erh… Yeah, yeah it is…” she stammered.
Terry smiled. It seemed Christine had her heart set on a dog too. He would use that in his case against Matt. She was gob smacked that Terry had focussed in one the dog and not the obvious wrong before him.
“Erm… I just wondered why-”
“-Why the woman is in a cell and there’s two men?” Terry lifted his eyes to her. His gaze cut straight into her, but she didn’t feel intimidated. If anything she suddenly felt embarrassed.
“Christine’s mother is in a rehab centre in Wales, I don’t know why Christine think it’s a prison…”
“-Well she thinks that’s why she can’t see her mother,”
Terry nodded in acknowledgement, it was probably the way Christine understood it. She was five after all.
“The truth of it is that their mother chooses not be around. Me and their father are married, but we’ve never stopped her from seeing the kids.” He smiled warmly.
“Oh…” she stammered. Her face slackened as she realised she’d just made a royal idiot of herself.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she flustered.
“It’s okay, you’re new and I appreciate that you were worried…” Terry’s eyes twinkled.
“I just… I never thought…”
“Yeah, us gay dads are pretty unusual,” he winked.
“Again I’m so sorry, I thought that there was something going off at home…” she was starting to turn red.
Terry’s face brightened and he put a reassuring hand on her arm.
“No damage caused,” he laughed.
He rolled the painting up, he was going to take it home. It would be a good story to relay to Matt.
“See you later,” he courteously bowed out of the classroom.
“Come on,” he flicked his head at the girls.
“What’s she done now?” Bridget probed.
“Nothing…” Chris whined pouting her bottom lip out once more. Her arms folded around her chest and she slowed down.
“Nothing,” Terry agreed.
They exited out onto the playground. As he held the door for the girls he noticed something was wrong. It took him a moment before he realised, “Chris? Where’s your
coat?”
“OOPS!” She turned quickly on the spot.
“…And your book bag?” Terry added as she bolted under his arm.
“Jesus,” Bridget groaned, “she’d forget her head if it wasn’t screwed on…”
Not for the first time Bridget was accurate about her sister.
-----------------------------------
The TV was doing little to hold his attention. It was a boring reality TV show but he was out of options. What a first world problem, all those channels and nothing to watch. He couldn’t abide the thought of drifting up the channels for the third time. So here he was watching a group of strangers live in a house on national TV.
Night had drawn in, so too had the peace and quiet. The washing machine had finally stopped whirring and shuddering, it would need its load putting in the dryer shortly. Terry wasn’t sure he could be bothered. It wasn’t anything major, he might leave it.
He popped another chunk of whole nut chocolate in his mouth.
Upstairs the girls were tucked into bed, sleeping soundly.
It was just him.
The house felt spacious, almost empty.
The loneliness lurked in the shadows. He did his best to keep it at bay but he couldn’t deny he was feeling progressively more and more lonely. It was these moments he realised how much, and why, he craved a dog so bad. It would be company on these dark nights when Matt was busy. He could picture a giant slob of a dog hogging majority of the settee with him. He wanted it, nay he needed it.
But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Matt it. He felt guilty of needing the company. He understood Matt was out there solving crimes and saving lives, but it didn’t stop him being missed. He was reluctant to admit to Matt that he felt neglected, he didn’t want to burden him with guilt. He already knew Matt felt awful about the time he spent away from the family, knew that he felt ashamed that his career outranked the people he loved most.
For the most part Terry was forgiving, he was the epitome of understanding.
His phone lit up and he swiftly muted the TV.
“Hey baby,” Matt greeted as Terry answered the call.
“Hey,” instantly Terry felt himself flush. A smile crept to his lips and his attention was completely lost from the TV.
“How are you?”
“Tired, it’s been a long day.”
“How did the shopping trip go?”
“Oh god… She insisted on buying a BBQ. So not only did I have two weeks of food shopping in my car, she also had a goddamned BBQ…”
“I thought she was a vegetarian?”
“She’s a vegan. So no, I have no idea what she plans to cook on this BBQ… she even told me in the car that Lee hates BBQ food…”
Terry laughed and he knew Matt was smiling on the other end of the line.
“So no pregnancy tests this time?”
“Thankfully no, it seems she’s not entirely sure that Snow’s kittens are indeed Fudge’s… She no longer worries that her wayward cat has spawned bastard children…”
“I dread to know how she’s come to this idea…”
“It’s Billie, who knows. She’s a law unto herself,”
“Did you see the client this morning?”
“Yeah. A nice case for a change. Her husband came through, told her to buy a puppy…” Terry trailed off. He felt the day’s theme and burning question come to sit on her tongue.
“That’s so nice. Just what I needed to hear today…”
“Is it Hell?”
“An eighth child was taken tonight. I’m heading over now,”
“An eighth? Jesus Christ…”
“…So I’m not going to be home tonight,”
“You out with Raven?”
“Yeah she’s driving now, hold on -” there was a muffled conversation, “she sends her love and asks when she’s going to get invited over for cheesecake?”
Terry smiled even though his heart was sinking.
“Tell her if she keeps my husband safe and sound, I’ll make sure to treat her to the best cheesecake,”
Matt relayed the message.
“Okay, we gotta go. We’ve arrived. I’ll see you tomorrow,”
“Alright, be careful…”
“Kiss the girls for me,”
“I will,”
“I love you,”
Terry’s grin wobbled and his eyes filled up.
“I love you too,”
And then he was gone. The call finished and the phone reverted back to a screensaver. It was a picture of the four of them. All four of them beaming at the camera, they’d been on a day out to a rollercoaster park.
He dropped the phone face down on the sofa and took a deep breath.
He wasn’t sure if he felt worse for the call.
Eight kids. He shook his head. God that was terrible.
Okay, time to go to bed. He pulled himself onto his feet. Getting bogged down in those depressing thoughts would do him no good. He switched the TV off.
He put the deadlock on the front door and took himself up the stairs. He engaged the deadlock because he knew for certain Matt wasn’t coming home. He would’ve left it undone otherwise. He stopped at Bridget’s room, he peeked in and saw she was sleeping soundly.
He peeked in on Christine before retiring to his own bedroom. She too was sleeping soundly.
All was good in the Logan household.
CHAPTER THREE:
The death card.
Terry took a breath and bit his lip. He hated this card, not solely because it represented quite dark and negative aspects of life, but because it was the one a client usually focused on most.
He looked up from the card to the couple before him. The Baxter’s were in their early thirties and, judging by the loving photos adorning the walls, madly in love. She was long faced with long ears and scraggly hair. It had worked out into a frizzy rebellion from the hair tie. She was wearing a maroon turtle neck jumper and pyjama bottoms. Her other half, was square and heavily covered in stubble. His grey eyes were wet and raw. He was wearing a non-descript T-shirt and jeans. His hair was dishevelled and his features visibly sagged.
As he took in the sight of the Death card in Terry’s hand, a fresh wave of tears rose to his eyes.
“Shit,” he hacked into the back of his hand. He blinked and tried to hold the tears at bay. His wife numbly squeezed his free hand and stared blankly through Terry.
The sadness was palpable. You could feel it soaked in the air.
Their house was pretty, painted in inviting shades of cream and yellows, but it didn’t feel happy. It felt empty, it felt violated. Terry was sat on one of the two sofas, his hand pressed onto the coffee table between him and couple.
“It’s okay. That card doesn’t always…” he trailed off. He was stalled in his thoughts by a peculiar sensation. Emptiness flushed across him.
“He’s missing…”
He couldn’t pinpoint the voice, he glanced around the room. Behind him, hovering in the doorway stood a solemn ghost. A gentle old fellow with a flat cap. His bushy moustache made him look endearing. His greyed eyes looked wet and shiny.
“Who?” he asked. He wasn’t aware that the Baxter’s had followed his gaze to the empty doorway.
“Kaden,”
“Who’s Kaden?”
“Their son…”
Terry’s gut sank. Oh no. He slowly turned his attention back to the couple. They turned their attention to him, curious as to what this strange man had seen in an empty doorway.
“It does mean loss… Your son Kaden,” he whispered.
Caitlin didn’t flinch, didn’t even recoil. Allen crumpled.
“I’m so sorry…”
“Is he here?” Caitlin probed. Her voice was monotone and Terry couldn’t begin how much pain she was under. She was nearly catatonic.
Terry shook his head. There was no child present.
“Who is here?”
“Frank,”
Terry repeated the name.
“Dad?” Allen buried his face in the palms of his hands.
Terry could feel the sadness seeping into the fibres of his soul.
“My dad is here?” Allen sobbed.
Caitlin reassured her husband but didn’t respond.
“Does he know where Kaden is?”
Terry turned to look at the ghost hovering at the threshold.
Frank shook his head.
“Is he dead?” Allen added, his voice cracking over the words.
Terry’s knee jerk reaction was to say no, but there was the card of Death between them.
“I don’t honestly know… He’s not here, and that card might just mean loss… not…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. From one father to another, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. He’d connected hundreds of people to their dead loved ones, but these moments never got any easier.
“Do you mind if I check out his room? I might be able to channel him…?” It was worth a try.
“Sure, anything. I just need to know what happened to my son…” Allen wiped his eyes angrily.
“I’ll try my best…” The truth of it was Terry might not be able to connect with the spirit. Sometimes they didn’t come through straight away. He’d had quite an enlightening conversation with a spirit once and he’d learnt a fair few things about the transition from life to death. When a person dies their soul travels to a place called Utero, where they desynchronise from their human bodies and revert back to their spirit form. Their pure form so to speak. Some spirits take longer to desynchronise from their human bodies, especially if trauma occurred. A little like the concept of ghosts being trapped on the mortal plane because of unfinished business. The spirits who did move on to the ‘better place’ were capable of returning if they chose, hence Terry could channel them.
Terry had no idea what fate had befallen Kaden’s spirit.
Allen led the way up a set of stairs and gestured for him to enter a door. He didn’t follow, instead he lingered behind. The child’s room was awash with Disney themes. The characters and cars from popular movies were a recurrent motif on the bedding, the walls, and many other pieces of furniture. It smelt of children, that distinctly sweet smell they sometimes had. It felt like a time capsule, obviously being preserved in that way. It felt untouched, but Terry knew various police personal would’ve combed through it.
Ten Missing Children Page 4