The Ferryman

by Christopher Golden

  “You spurned him,” David reminded her. “I’d say we’re both in danger.” He leaned back a bit, almost collapsing into the sofa. Then his eyes roved around the room. “We should get out of here. Go to a hotel. He could come back at any time. Hell, we don’t even know if he’s really gone. In the morning, we’ll go see Father Charles.”

  “Do you think he’ll believe us?” she asked.

  Something flickered across his eyes then, a sort of curiosity, maybe. “Yes. I really think he will. I get the idea from talking to the padre that he’s heard his share of weird stories.”

  “All right. Let me pack some things,” she said.

  Janine got up and went toward the bedroom. Outside the door she paused and stared into the room. A moment later David came up behind her and she breathed a sigh of relief as he followed her in. She did not want to be in there alone.

  When she had thrown some overnight things into a bag, Janine went to the phone.

  “Let me just call Larry and let him know where I’ll be,” she said.

  “Why call Larry? It’s only for a few hours.”

  “Just in case he hears anything about my mother.”

  Silence. Slowly Janine turned to find David staring at her. It hit her, then, that in all their conversation, their shared fears and the nightmarish spectacle they had each been through that night, she had not mentioned the call she had received earlier, not told him about her mother.

  “What about her?” David asked.

  Janine swallowed hard, pieces of a puzzle beginning to click together in her head.

  “She’s missing,” Janine said, her voice catching in her throat.

  They stared at one another, both chilled by those words.

  CHAPTER 13

  The morning ought to have brought solace, but the world still seemed off-kilter, as if the sunlight were filtered through a dusty curtain.

  David stood just inside the front door of his home, stared around with eyes wide, and wondered why he was not crying. The house remained intact, true, but his things, the parts of this house that were him, had been destroyed. Paintings and plants, knickknacks and books; some of the furniture had been shattered, scattered across the floor, broken and torn and even pissed on. The smell of urine was strong in the foyer.

  Underneath it, though, was another smell, not unlike the ocean at low tide.

  “David. I’m so sorry.”

  With a deep breath, he collected himself and then glanced back at Janine, who had come in behind him. Though the night had passed, they had agreed that neither of them was going to stay at home until they found some answers, but David had wanted to at least get some clothes.They recognized that there was risk involved in returning here, but the coming of the dawn had mitigated their fright. Now, though, it seemed foolish to have assumed that the arrival of morning would have chased away the darker shadows of the night.

  They had been cautious as they entered, and ready to flee.

  Now this.

  “Stay with me,” he said, his voice numb.

  Then he started up the stairs. The second floor was not in quite as much of a shambles, but it still pained him. Soon, when he was able to return here again, he would put things in order.

  At the moment he could not bear it.

  In his bedroom—which was littered with broken things and torn clothing—he managed to find three days’ worth of clean clothes. He stuffed them into a bag as Janine stood with him in silence, and they returned to the first floor. For several long minutes they stood in the foyer again and he stared up the stairs.

  The morning had brought bright sunshine and blue sky, the bustle of human activity, and a new perspective. He was still afraid, of course, but now he was angry. More than angry. Whatever these manifestations were that were fucking with his life, David wanted it to stop.

  A sigh escaped his lips and he grimaced as he ushered Janine out the door onto the front stoop. Just before he would have turned the key in the lock, the phone rang within. For just a moment he paused, head down. Then he glanced at Janine and she shrugged.

  David nodded, walked back through the house to the kitchen, stepped over pots and pans, and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Bairstow, hello. This is Gary Kindzierski from the Medford P.D. At St. Matt’s they told me you weren’t coming in today. I’m glad I’ve caught you at home.”

  With a frown, David switched the phone from one hand to another and glared at it as though it had done him some personal slight. “You must be a mind reader, Detective. I was just going to call you.”

  A pause, as the policeman considered that statement. “Oh?”

  “I wasn’t home last night. Someone’s vandalized my house.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Bairstow,” Kindzierski said. “I find it pretty interesting, though. Is Miss Hartschorn there with you right now?”

  David stiffened. “As a matter of fact, she is.”

  “I’ll send a couple of guys over to have a look around your place and take a statement. Meanwhile, I’m meeting Miss Hartschorn’s stepfather at the Parker House in Boston at one o’clock to talk about her mother’s disappearance. I think it would be helpful for both of you to be there as well.”

  Janine had come back in while David spoke to the detective, and now she stood in the kitchen, attempting to avoid stepping in whatever foods from the refrigerator had been strewn around, and tried to catch David’s eye, to get a sense of the conversation he was having.

  David stared back at her blankly.

  “I’m glad you’re on it, Detective,” David said. “But Larry said you couldn’t do anything for forty-eight hours.”

  Kindzierski paused again.When he spoke this time, it was in measured tones, as though each word had been carefully considered.

  “That time period is set up to weed out the cranks, Mr. Bairstow. One-night runaways, cheating spouses, miscommunications. Given the other things that have been happening around you and Miss Hartschorn in the past week or so, well, I think you see what I mean.”

  “I do,” David told him. “And thank you.”

  “I’ll see you at one,” Kindzierski said.

  After they hung up, he related the conversation to Janine. She turned and walked back through the house in silence. Just inside the open front door, she stared out at the street. David glanced around the kitchen and felt the urge to begin to repair the damage done to his home, but he pushed it away. There would be time later. Not to mention that the police would likely want to see it the way it had been left.

  “Janine?” he asked as he walked up behind her.

  The sun shone brightly through the door and he lifted a hand to block the glare. She faced him.

  “It’s a waste of time. There’s nothing the police can do to help us,” Janine said, her voice hollow. “She’s dead, isn’t she, David?”

  “You don’t know that,” he said quickly. “We don’t even know it’s connected. Maybe Kindzierski can’t help us, but that doesn’t mean he can’t find your mother. We’ll go into Boston, and stop to see Father Charles on the way back.”

  Janine nodded, then turned to gaze back out at the street again. It was quiet, serene. Springtime.The world had been invaded, tainted by something that did not belong there. Yet it seemed unchanged, unaware, just the same as it had been the day, the week, the month before.

  Except through our eyes, David thought. Through our eyes, everything looks different now.

  Beacon Hill was one of the oldest sections of Boston, and among the trendiest and most expensive to live. Its winding one-way streets were considered by out-of-towners to be a labyrinth worthy of the Minotaur.Yet it was also among the most picturesque spots in the city. Boston Common’s green parklands gradually ascended toward the pinnacle of the hill, the Massachusetts State House, itself topped by a golden dome. Government buildings were merged there on Beacon Hill with old neighborhoods and enduring establishments such as the Parker House hotel.

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nbsp; David and Janine hurried up from Park Street station toward the State House, and then down the narrow side street. While they had waited for the police to show up to investigate the vandalism at his house, Janine had called Larry Vale on his cell phone and got him in the car, somewhere south of Hartford, Connecticut. It turned out that sleep had been hard to come by for all of them the previous night. Larry had risen at six thirty and been on the road north by seven. He had made a reservation for himself at the Parker House, and planned to stay as long as it took to find Ruth.

  When Janine related the conversation to David, he tried his best to hide his reaction to Larry’s vow. Not that he needed to, for Janine spoke the very words that had gone through his mind.

  “He may be here forever,” she’d said.

  So often, when he was a child, the terrors of the nighttime would be dispersed by the coming of the dawn. It ought to have been the same now, in a place like this, with the woman he loved.Yet the surreal frights of the previous evening seemed almost compounded by the perfection of the day, perhaps, he thought, because these things were supposed to go away in the morning, but he knew that was not going to happen.

  Hand in hand, they strode purposefully up to the door of the Parker House. He held it for her and then followed her inside. They found Kindzierski already speaking to Larry at the bar. When he saw his stepdaughter, Larry Vale heaved a sigh of relief, rose, and went to her. Though he and Janine had never been close, she allowed the embrace. More than that, she seemed to hold on to him as though each could not survive without the other.

  Neither of them wept, though. David suspected that they both would feel that was too much like surrender.

  “Janine. How are you faring?” Larry asked. He held her at arm’s length and studied her.

  Her smile was fleeting. “I’ll get by. Let’s not worry about me right now, though, okay?”

  “Right.”

  Larry nodded once in affirmation. He offered his hand to David and they shook firmly.

  “You both know the detective already?” Larry asked.

  Greetings were exchanged all around and David and Janine pulled bar stools out so the four of them were arranged in a rough circle. Kindzierski was quieter than David had expected, and he looked as tired as he had the last time they’d met, with dark circles under his eyes. Yet the detective was very clearly observing them, and there was a dark intelligence in his eyes. David wondered what it did to a man’s soul to always have to consider everyone a suspect.

  “Everything squared away at your place?” Kindzierski asked.

  David nodded. “Much as it can be at the moment. Some of the furniture and a few paintings were destroyed, a lot of knickknacks, that sort of thing. After your people were done, we picked up as well as we could for the moment. Obviously there’s a lot more to do.”

  There was a pause as the detective studied the three of them. Then he let out a breath and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ll be blunt. I don’t want to waste your time. I’d rather be out there trying to figure out what happened to your mother, Miss Hartschorn. To get there, I’m going to ask you some questions that might sound a bit abrupt or unfeeling given your situation. I’m sorry for that, but it can’t be helped.”

  Janine reached out and took David’s hand, rested their clasped hands on her leg. “It’s all right. Whatever you need.”

  Kindzierski nodded. His hand went to a small notepad on the bar that David hadn’t noticed when they had first sat down, but he did not pick it up.The detective’s eyes were still distant, observant, but his expression was kind and his hesitation seemed genuine.

  “Mr.Vale and I were just discussing whether or not there was anyone who might, for any reason, want to hurt Mrs. Vale,” he said, moving on quickly so as not to be interrupted. “We also talked about the possibility of kidnap for ransom, though since no one has been contacted, I think it’s safe to say that isn’t likely.”

  The bartender arrived then. David ordered a Samuel Adams, Janine had wine, and Larry asked for another Seven and Seven. The detective drank soda water with a twist of lime, and seemed a bit cranky that he could not also have a drink. When the bartender had gone, Janine frowned and gazed at Kindzierski.

  “I can’t imagine anyone having any reason to hurt my mother,” she said, her voice hitching a bit, but still strong. “Also, I’m sure it’s another thing you have to cross off your list, but you can forget about affairs. My mother’s in love with Larry. They’re partners. And . . .” She paused, glanced a bit sheepishly at her stepfather, then looked back at the detective. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I don’t think she’s ever been that interested in sex, so you can probably rule that out.”

  “Not completely. I don’t want to rule anything out completely,” Kindzierski said. “But I appreciate the insight. It helps.”

  “You’re leading up to something,” Janine observed.

  The bartender delivered the drinks. They all paused a moment to take a first sip, and then Kindzierski regarded them each in turn, finally settling on Janine again.

  “Your ex was murdered in a parking lot across the street from a party you were attending. Your current boyfriend, Mr. Bairstow here, was run off the road and nearly killed. Days later, his house is vandalized. I notice neither one of you went to work today. That means someone had to sub for your classes, which just from what I know of you I’m gonna guess both of you take pretty seriously. I’m sure that vandalism was traumatic, but why both of you?

  “I think you both can see where I’m going with this. I’m sorry for saying, Miss Hartschorn, but bad things are happening around you lately, and now your mother is missing. Has been missing, apparently, since she left this hotel on her way to your apartment. But you didn’t know she was coming and she never arrived.”

  Kindzierski took a breath, chuckled softly at himself, and leaned forward on his stool. “You know what? I said I had questions. I guess what I’ve got instead is some curiosity, a bunch of facts, and one big question.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  A million replies bounced through David’s mind in an instant. He saw in Janine’s eyes that she was taken equally off balance by Kindzierski’s approach. She glanced at him, but David thought that the detective might think it odd if he responded first, so he said nothing.

  With her fingers steepled under her chin, hands together as though in prayer, Janine regarded the man a moment. Then she shook her head and dropped her hands to her lap.

  “There’s nothing, Detective. Honestly, I wish there were,” she added, her voice cracking. Her lips pressed together as she forcibly composed herself. “I’m afraid for my mother, more afraid than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” Her voice hitched.“But I don’t have anything that would help you.”

  “Your point is taken, though,” David added.

  Larry and Kindzierski both seemed a bit startled when he spoke. The detective narrowed his gaze as he glanced over.

  “It seems almost impossible for these things to be unrelated,” David continued. “Sure, they might be, but we’d be idiots not to look for a connection.Whoever ran me off the road that night, I’m sure it was no accident. I’ve got to figure that’s the same person who trashed my house. I don’t know why. But I’d like to get my hands on him.”

  David shivered a bit.The lie had been easy because it was so intertwined with the truth. His frustration and anger were very, very real indeed.

  “You have no idea who that might be?” Kindzierski asked.

  “Other than the description I gave you, no,” David said.

  Obviously troubled, the detective only nodded. “I don’t suppose either one of you can come up with anyone who might want to hurt you?”

  Janine gave a sad, morbid little laugh. “Only Spencer, and he’s dead.”

  “All right,” Kindzierski said. “Please keep in touch with me. Meanwhile, I know that Mr.Vale has plans to aid in the search for Mrs. Vale. The Medford P.D. would appreciate be
ing part of any independent process so that we’re not working at cross-purposes.”

  “Of course,” Janine replied.

  It was clear from the cop’s expression, however, that they weren’t done quite yet.The bartender cruised by, glanced down to see if anyone needed a fresh drink, then continued on. A trio of professional women at a table in the restaurant laughed uproariously at something. They drew the detective’s attention, but when Kindzierski cast a quick look back toward them, a pair of fiftyish men a few stools down turned away as though caught at something.

  They were listening, David thought.

  Kindzierski slipped a hand inside his leather jacket and came back out with a small wallet. He flipped it open, revealing the gold shield that identified him as a detective.

  “Hey,” he said, voice low.

  The two men, probably lawyers or politicians, considering the neighborhood, feigned surprise as they looked up. One was bony-thin, the other a ruddy, jowled, thick-bodied man.

  Kindzierski hung his badge out. “Clear out.”

  The big man, clearly the more senior of the two considering his bluster, sat up a bit straighter. “Excuse me, Detective, but we’re about to have lunch. I’m not sure what right you think you have to—”

  “Don’t fuck with me. I’m not in the mood,” Kindzierski snapped, loud enough to draw attention. Loud enough to make the politician blush. “You want lunch, go somewhere else or find yourself a goddamn table.”

  The men both gawked at Kindzierski as if the cop had dropped his pants. Then the bony one began to stand up. The other clapped a hand on his shoulder and kept him seated.

  “We’re fine just where we are, Detective. I’d be careful how I proceeded from here if I were you.”

  Kindzierski turned his back on the two men, his jaw tight with anger.Without looking at them again, he spoke just loudly enough for them to hear.

  “In five seconds, if those two eavesdropping assholes are still there, I’m going to make an arrest for interfering with an officer in the course of an investigation,” he said. “If I have to go, we can pick this conversation up again later. Now, I’m gonna count.You let me know if they’re still there when I’m done.”