by Willow Rose
“How about an anonymous tip?” Chloe asks. “Tell them we heard screaming from his house. That would give them a reason to go in and find Paige, but then again...what if he’s not keeping her at his house? He might have her somewhere else.”
“Chloe’s got a point,” Danny says. “We need to somehow figure out if he has her at his house.”
Part Four
Come Out, Come Out Wherever You Are
Chapter Seventy-Eight
April 2016
As the school bell rings, hundreds of children run out the doors. Lots of them grab their bikes, other go in the pick-up line, while the rest go to the buses.
Blake watches them as they walk in a nice line to the yellow buses and disappear inside of them. He especially watches bus C26, carrying his dear nephew Salter.
As the bus sets off from the school grounds, Blake drives after it, keeping a distance of one to two cars between them.
The road is still blocked off on parts of Minutemen where they pulled the bodies out the other day. The police tape is still in the bushes, being tossed by the wind.
The bus stops every few minutes as it drives down A1A towards the Patrick Airforce base. It turns just before the base and goes back to A1A northbound, towards Blake’s childhood home. He remembers riding in that very same bus himself as a child. Even the bus driver, Mrs. T., is still the same.
Nothing ever changes in this town.
Blake especially remembers coming home after school, being greeted only by his stepmom, Laura, who would look annoyed at him and wish him long gone. She never liked either him or Mary, but most of all she loathed him, because he was there, a constant reminder of the love that her husband lost, when his mother was shot in that very house.
Blake reminded his father of her constantly. It was almost unbearable for his father. So much that he would pay him money to leave the house, pay for anything he wanted, as long as he didn’t bother him or Laura.
When Blake turned sixteen, he got a Corvette, the newest one. But his dad wasn’t there to give it to him. It was just parked in the driveway, his name on a card placed underneath the windshield wipers.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY was the simple message. Not even a Love from Dad. Blake took it for a spin that day and drove so fast up I95 that he almost crashed. As the car spun around and he missed the tree, he couldn’t stop thinking that maybe this was exactly what his dad wanted. That was why he bought him the car, so he could go and kill himself on the highway.
He wasn’t going to give him the pleasure.
The bus stops in front of 7th Street and three kids get out. The last one is Salter. Blake drives his rented car into a parking spot, then gets out.
“Salter!”
Salter stops and Blake runs to him while the bus sets off and disappears. Salter looks at him as he runs towards him, his arm lifted. “Salter, wait up.”
“Who are you?” Salter asks, as he approaches him.
“Don’t you remember me?” Blake asks, smiling widely. He is standing right in front of him now.
Salter’s expression changes drastically. He takes a step back. “You’re my uncle,” he says, his voice shaking.
“That’s right, my boy, I am.”
“W-w-what do you want?”
Blake shrugs and takes a step even closer to him. Salter is visibly intimidated by his closeness.
“Just to chat. Aren’t I allowed to talk to my nephew anymore?”
“You’re wanted by the police,” Salter says fearfully. “My mom told me you killed someone.”
Blake tilts his head. “What do you think? You think I killed her?”
“I…I never said it was a her.”
Blake points his finger at him, pretending it’s a gun. “Smart kid, huh? Well, I’m even smarter.”
In one swift move, Blake reaches out and grabs Salter around the neck. He turns him around and places a cloth over his mouth, then counts backwards from one hundred until the boy stops fighting and becomes lifeless in his arms. As he helps Salter to the car, Blake throws a glance at the house, where he knows Mary will be waiting for her son. But she’s going to wait for a very long time.
That’s 2-0, dear sis.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
April 2016
I leave Chloe and Danny at Chloe’s house. We have planned to go to this Boxer’s house later today, but I have to get back to Salter first. It’s early release today, so he is home earlier than usual and he needs to do his homework. He’s got a big project he should have done last week, but since his dad thought it was more important to go paddle boarding and hang out with Jackie, he hasn’t done it, and now I have to make sure he starts it. I have called Sandra and asked her to come over and stay with him later today so I can go with Chloe and Danny.
It felt strange asking this of her, since I haven’t spoken to her in quite some time and since I am still a little angry with her for cheating on Ryan, but you do what you have to do, right? This is important and so I have to swallow my pride.
I park my bike in the driveway and look at the clock. I still have half an hour before Salter comes home on the bus. I decide to bake a cake for him…his favorite banana cake. I am sick of being the bad guy when it comes to my son and I need to win him back somehow. Starting with a cake.
Snowflake is all excited and I let him out in the backyard. Ever since we left Joey’s house, it has been hard for me to keep him busy and exercised enough. When he was with Bonnie and Clyde all day it was no problem. Now he’s all over the place, especially if I am not home.
I check on my dad, who has fallen asleep in his room in front of the TV, probably exhausted from this morning’s physical therapy. It tends to wear him out completely, which is good. I turn off the TV and sneak out. I throw the cake together and put it in the oven, then look at the clock.
The bus should have been there by now.
I shrug and grab a magazine while I wait. I read about how to make a cheesecake with strawberries and soon the timer buzzes on the stove. I look at my watch and wonder why Salter hasn’t gotten here yet.
Maybe the bus is just late.
It happens sometimes that Mrs. T. runs late. A couple of weeks ago I freaked out because she was twenty minutes late. Turns out the bus had broken down half way and they had to wait for another one to pick them up. These things happen from time to time. I decide I don’t want to allow myself to get all worked up about this like the last time.
I take out the cake and place it on the counter to cool down. It smells divine and I am certain Salter is going to absolutely love it.
Where is he?
The nagging feeling won’t leave me alone and I walk to the window to look out at the road. I can’t see the bus or Salter anywhere.
It’ll be here in a few minutes. Relax. Will you?
I stare at the road, my heart pounding in my chest. No, I can’t relax even though I’m trying to. Where is my son? It’s now thirty minutes since he should have been home.
I decide to walk out to the road. The bus stops almost right outside my dad’s house. It usually doesn’t take him more than ten seconds to run inside.
Where the hell is he?
I spot another kid that I recognize from Salter’s school. He is crossing the street with his dad. They’re walking towards the beach.
“Hey,” I yell, and run to them. “Did you come home by bus today?”
The kid nods. He’s holding a fishing pole in his hand and so is his dad.
“Was Salter on the bus?” I ask, trying to keep calm, but freaking out completely inside.
“Yes. He got off when I did. We always do.”
Chapter Eighty
April 1975
Danh’s hands are shaking as he grabs the syringe and the small bottle from the man. He watches with tears in his eyes as he drags Long away. She is looking back, trying to comfort him, telling him it’ll be okay, not to worry.
He wants to stop her, to stop the man from taking her, but he doesn’t. Instead, he loo
ks at the medicine that has been given to him, wipes away his tears, turns around, and faces Bao.
He kneels in front of him, grabs Bao’s skinny body, and turns him around. He pulls down his pants, fills the syringe, and places it to his bare skin.
“I sure hope this will help you,” he whispers, as he pushes the medicine into Bao’s body.
Danh sinks back on the deck and cries. Exhausted, he falls into a deep sleep and doesn’t wake up till the early morning hours, when the sun is rising above the horizon.
“Long?”
Bao is next to him, blinking his eyes like he’s seeing the world for the first time. “Danh?”
“Bao. You’re better. You’re not burning up anymore.”
Bao tries to smile, but is still too weak. Danh gives him some water, the last bottle they have. He helps him drink.
“You need to rest,” Danh says. “Regain your strength. I’ll see if I can get you some more water and maybe steal some bread from the trash can. I did that the other day and fed me and Long.”
Bao puts his head back down on Danh’s jacket. “Where is Long?” he asks, lying with his eyes closed.
Danh wonders about that himself. Why hasn’t she come back yet? How does he explain to Bao what has happened? What they had to do? Danh feels the tears building up in his eyes again, but he manages to push them back.
“I’ll go look for food and water,” he says, avoiding having to answer Bao’s question. Danh gets up.
Bao doesn’t say any more. He’s sound asleep again, but this time with a little color to his skin and a smile on his face. At least the medicine helped. Now all he needs to do is find out what happened to his precious pearl.
Heart in his throat, Danh walks around the ship, avoiding being seen by the men with guns. He hides under stairs, behind trash cans or bags, then sneaks to the living quarters downstairs.
A long row of doors meets him down there. He hears voices coming from behind the doors, people, men laughing, some arguing. He sneaks past the first open door leading to one of the rooms and peeks inside without being seen. In there he sees beds, four beds, and a table with four men sitting around playing cards, their guns hung on the back of their chairs. There’s money on the table. Danh looks to see if he can spot Long anywhere, but she’s not in this room.
He keeps walking till he reaches another open door. Inside lies a man. He’s sleeping, snoring, his gun with him on the bed.
Where are you, my flower? My dancing princess?
His quest leads him to yet another open door and he sneaks close to it before he peeks inside. In there, on one of the beds, he finds her. At first, he lights up, but then everything inside of him freezes.
“Long?” he says, thinking at first she could be sleeping. “Your majesty?”
As he approaches her, he begins to fear the worst. He reaches her and bends over her tiny body.
“Your majesty?”
And that is when he sees it. Danh gasps and tears spring immediately to his eyes. Long’s clothes are ripped and she is bruised all over her little body. Her tiny face is pale and blood is running from her mouth. Her eyes are staring, lifeless, into the ceiling. The sight makes Danh sick with sorrow. He puts his head on her chest and starts to scream.
Chapter Eighty-One
April 2016
“Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…”
Paige is running down the stairs. She goes for the double front doors first, but just as the man had told her, they’re locked. Yet she pulls and shakes both handles desperately and turns all the locks, thinking she can unlock it, but it doesn’t work. Next, she’s running towards a set of sliding doors leading to the pool area.
“Forty, forty-one, forty-two…”
Paige is crying as she pulls the handle frantically, but the door doesn’t open. She sobs, then moves on to the next door, then a window, but they’re all locked. She slams her hand into a window, hammering on it while screaming for help.
“Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five…”
The sound of his voice feels like knives on her skin. She runs desperately to the kitchen, but there are no knives or even pans that she can use as weapons. She runs across yet another living room while the voice of the man counting cuts through the air. She spots another set of stairs and decides to run up them.
This house is big. It’s enormous. If you want me to hide, then I’ll hide. I’ll hide so well you’ll never find me.
She realizes he is right. The only thing she can do at this point is to hide and to do it well.
“Sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven…”
Hurry Paige. Hurry.
Her hands are shaking, her body trembling in fear as she opens a door upstairs and runs into a bedroom. She looks under the bed, her knees in the soft carpet. She crawls on her belly across the carpet and manages to squeeze herself in under the bed.
“Sixty-nine, seventy, seventy-one…”
This isn’t good enough. He’ll find you right away! As soon as he steps inside the room the first thing he’ll do is look under the bed.
Paige squirms out, gets back on her feet, and looks around. There’s a closet. She runs to it and opens it, remembering the time she played with the neighbor’s son and she hid behind hanging coats with her feet in a pair of boots at the base of the coats, making it seem that they were just stored objects. He never found her.
But there is no room in there for her in there. She closes it again, her heart throbbing in her chest.
Please, help me, God. Help me hide.
Paige storms out of the room and runs further down the hallway. Her feet are soundless on the thick carpet.
“Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty…”
The man is counting very loud, probably to make sure she can hear him, she thinks to herself, as she finds another door and rushes inside. She is breathing heavily, desperately, frantically letting her eyes scan the room for possible hiding places. She doesn’t want to think about it, but she can’t help wondering what he’ll do to her if he finds her.
When he finds her.
Oh, my God, he’s gonna kill me, isn’t he? He’s going to find me and kill me.
The look in his eyes had scared her senseless. It was the look of a madman. Paige had seen it before, in that woman from across the street, in the days before she was taken away. Paige’s mother had told her she had gone crazy, because she lost one of her children, that she couldn’t take care of herself or her other children anymore, and now the hospital would take care of her. Paige heard the rumors about her from the other kids. They said she tried to drive into the ocean with her kids in the car. Her eyes had the exact same look in them.
Like they were lost.
“Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine…”
Panting, Paige looks around this room that appears to be another sort of a living room. There’s a fireplace at the end of it. The floors are wooden and creak as she walks across them. Sweat is springing from her forehead.
“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine…”
Oh, my God. You’ve got to find a place NOW!
Paige walks fast to the fireplace and the stone chimney. She pokes her head in, grabs the sides, and starts to climb.
“ONE-HUNDRED! READY OR NOT, HERE I COME!”
Paige whimpers and continues to scoot herself upwards until her fingers touch something. She gasps and looks up. A set of eyes in a dirty face look back at her. A girl about her age.
“Who are you?” Paige whispers.
The girl doesn’t answer. She lifts her pointer to her lips to signal for Paige to be quiet. Paige holds on to the walls of the chimney and places her feet on both sides to make sure she won’t fall down. She clings desperately to the rocks with her fingernails, as the door to the room is blasted open.
Chapter Eighty-Two
April 2016
Where the hell is my son?
I call Joey and, of course, he doesn’t answer right away. I leave a voicemail asking him if Salt
er accidentally went to his house instead, forgetting he was supposed to be with me till Sunday.
I can’t wait for him to answer, so I grab my bike and ride it to his townhouse and knock on the door.
“Salter? Joey?”
I can hear Bonnie and Clyde on the other side of the door, but no one opens the door. I grab my phone and call Joey again. Still no answer. I gnarr and knock again, before I decide to go back to my dad’s place to see if Salter has come home. Meanwhile, I keep calling Salter’s phone, but it goes directly to voicemail. He is not allowed to have it turned on at school, so I figure it’s still in his backpack. I leave message number eight, then hang up.
Calm down, Mary. He probably just went to a friend’s house and forgot to tell you. You know how distracted he gets sometimes. Maybe Joey even made arrangements with the parents and everything, but forgot to tell you. You’ve got to stay calm. Can’t get yourself this worked up all the time.
It doesn’t help.
I am officially freaking out now. While riding my bike back to the house, I try breathing exercises; I try thinking about surfing and the ocean, which usually calms me down, but that doesn’t help either.
I throw the bike in the grass by my dad’s house, and then run inside. “Salter? Salter, are you here?”
“What’s going on, Mary?” my dad’s voice asks from his bedroom. I run in there. “I can’t find Salter. He didn’t come home from school.”
“Have you tried calling the school?” he asks.
“Ten times at least. They say he got on the bus as planned. I even met a kid who said he was on the bus with him and that they both got off at 7th Street.”
“That’s odd,” my dad says. “It’s not like Salter to not come home.”
I sigh nervously. “I know. I don’t like this, Dad. I’ve had a bad feeling all week. I knew something bad was going to happen.”
“Now, we don’t know that something bad has happened yet,” he says. “Let’s try and stay calm for now, all right? There could be a lot of explanations for this.”
