by Rick Mofina
The pilot made an announcement about starting their descent into Los Angeles.
Attendants distributed customs cards to be completed before entering the US.
It was a smooth landing. Ben made good time clearing customs and called an Uber to take him home.
As the car sailed along the freeways of greater Los Angeles and into Orange County, he continued trying to reach Kayla and Emma without success.
Eighty
Cielo Valle, Orange County, California
Present day
The exterior lights of Ben’s house were on when he arrived home about 1:30 a.m.
They were preset with a timer switch.
All was quiet when he got inside. He walked through the house to the interior garage door and opened it. His car was there. Emma’s car was gone.
He went upstairs. Their bedroom was empty. Kayla’s bedroom was empty. He checked every room upstairs.
No sign of anyone.
He went downstairs to the living room and kitchen, switching on all the lights. No sign of Tug. No notes on the fridge. He checked the landline. No messages. The only calls showing were the ones he’d made.
Looking around, he saw Emma’s phone and laptop on the kitchen table.
What the—
He thought about logging on to Emma’s devices but didn’t know the passwords.
Ben went back upstairs and searched for Kayla’s phone in vain.
He had an idea. Hurrying downstairs, Ben unzipped his bag, pulled out his laptop. He knew it was possible to track Kayla’s phone and her location. He went to the accounts for the family phones, zeroing in on Kayla’s. He went to the instructions on how to track a missing or stolen phone, reading as fast as he could.
He cursed.
With the type of phones and package they had, Ben couldn’t track Kayla’s phone if the battery was dead or it was off.
However, he could get its last known location.
I’ll take it.
Ben clicked on the locater mode and a map blossomed on the page with a red circle pointing to a location. Ben clicked on the icon and it gave him more details.
It was a gas station, a ViroClean Pacifica outlet yesterday afternoon, located on a boulevard near Kayla’s school. It was open twenty-four hours. Ben knew where it was and headed for the garage.
* * *
At this hour, few cars were on the street in this part of Cielo Valle.
Unsure of what he expected to find, Ben had no other choice but to check out the gas station where Kayla’s phone was last located.
He parked at the pump and gassed up, using the time to think. No other cars or customers were around. Crickets were chirping when he went inside to pay. The clerk at the counter had a wispy beard, looked to be in his early twenties. He was wearing a navy ViroClean Pacifica golf shirt with a name tag that read Noah.
After paying, Ben said, “Hey, Noah, could you help me?”
“I dunno, can I? My powers are limited.”
“I think my daughter may have lost her cell phone here. Did someone find one?”
As Noah leaned back and looked under the counter, Ben saw the small bank of security monitors. Noah put a cardboard box on the counter with keys, paperbacks, vapes and a bracelet.
“Sorry. No phones.”
“What about those cameras? She was here yesterday afternoon between noon and six. Could you review them and let me see? Maybe she lost it near the pumps?”
Noah shook his head. “Sorry, sir. You gotta call corporate. I’ll give you a card.”
“Would you let me have a quick look for two hundred bucks?”
Noah smiled. “Show me the green.”
Ben paid him and Noah went to a keyboard. “You said yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes.” Ben craned his neck, eyeing the monitors from the counter as Noah cued up the time period. They watched vehicles come and go at the pumps in high speed before Ben recognized Emma’s SUV.
“Hold it—that’s my wife’s car.”
Ben got his phone out to record the footage as Noah rewound and replayed it in real time. Ben’s heart lifted. There was Kayla leaving to go to the bathroom, while Emma gassed up, then cleaned out the car. It looked like she was tossing magazines and newspapers into the trash before Kayla returned and they drove off.
“Keep it going,” Ben said, wanting another few minutes to record other vehicles.
Okay, they’re together and safe.
“Thank you, Noah.”
Walking back to his car, Ben stopped at the pumps and picked up the trash can Emma had used. He emptied the contents onto the pavement, felt a clunking just as the intercom clicked with Noah’s tin-voiced protest.
“Hey, dude, what the fuck?”
Ignoring him, Ben sifted through the cans, bottles, wrappers, diapers, take-out wrappers and bags, magazines and newspapers, finding a laptop and phone.
Kayla’s laptop and phone.
Ben stared at them as questions swirled.
He cleaned up his mess, washed his hands in the bathroom, collected Kayla’s devices, then left.
His heart was thumping as he drove home along the empty streets, searching the night for answers.
Seeing Kayla and Emma together on the camera footage gave him a measure of relief but it was eclipsed by worry as he glanced at Kayla’s laptop and phone, fetched from the trash.
At home he scoured the internet for tips on how to gain access to Kayla’s laptop and phone, hoping to get an idea where they had gone and why. He read everything he could find, studied videos. Hours went by. It was futile.
He called the twenty-four-hour tech support line of their provider. There was little that could be done because of privacy policies and security safeguards. The tech guy cautioned Ben that repeated attempts to guess a password would lock him out, which he already knew.
Ben then scrutinized his phone and the gas station footage he’d recorded of the cars and people, hoping for a clue as to whether Emma was being followed.
He couldn’t find anything.
Nothing was working and the sun had risen. Ben hadn’t slept. He felt the full weight of the day crashing down on him, his shock, his worry, his jet lag.
He took a cold shower. As water rushed over him, he thrashed in a storm of self-recrimination. The karmic wheel had turned on him. Devoting his life to recording tragedies, he was haunted by Nietzsche’s warning about pursuing monsters and gazing long into an abyss, because “the abyss also looks into you.”
What have I done?
Once he was dressed, Ben made strong coffee.
Then his landline phone rang.
Eighty-One
California
Present day
Morning light pierced the seam of the drawn motel room curtains.
The strange firmness of the motel’s bed, the laundered smell of the sheets, told Kayla that it really happened.
This is no dream.
She replayed yesterday’s events when Emma had picked her up at school.
After saying goodbye to Cheyenne and Regan, Kayla had opened the door to Emma’s SUV, and seen luggage and groceries in the back.
“What’s with all that?”
“Get in, sweetheart. Something’s come up,” Emma had said. “We need to go somewhere.”
“Where? What’s going on?”
Kayla got in, reached for the car’s charger cable, connecting it to her phone. Her battery was low. Then she buckled up. Emma checked her mirrors and drove off without answering. They didn’t go far before they pulled into a gas station.
“We need gas. If you have to use the bathroom now’s a good time,” Emma said.
“Where’re we going, Emma?”
“You’ll find out on the way. Do you have to go?”
“Yes.” Annoyed, Ka
yla shot her a look when she left the car. But when Kayla returned she couldn’t find her phone and began searching the SUV. “Do you have my phone?”
“We have to go.”
“Don’t go anywhere, Emma! I think someone stole my phone!”
Emma looked at her and started the car.
“Shut it off!” Kayla looked at vehicles at the pumps, then the store. “Someone stole my freakin’ phone!”
Emma moved the gearshift into Drive.
“Stop!”
She sped off, merging into traffic.
“Dammit, stop!” Kayla pounded the dash. “I have to find my phone!”
“I had to get rid of your phone, your laptop. I left mine at home.”
“Why? My life, my homework, everything’s in there!”
“It’s extreme, I know. I’m not an expert. I did think of removing the SIM card, but I had to take quick steps. So we can’t be tracked.”
“Can’t be tracked? What the hell’re you talking about?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“From what? Have you lost your mind? Go back!”
“We can’t go back. Kayla, I’m so sorry. Soon you’ll understand. Right now I need you to listen to me. Someone may want to hurt us. So we’re leaving home for a while. Remember our security alarm going off? Well, before that, there was a strange guy your dad and I encountered in the park. It’s all connected to your dad’s books.”
Emma checked her mirrors.
“We’re not going very far for now. We just need to leave the house. I’ll explain more when we stop.”
They accelerated onto an eastbound freeway only going a few miles before they exited and pulled into this sketchy motel. Kayla didn’t know exactly where they were, just that they’d only traveled a few miles from home. After that, Emma spent much of the evening attempting to explain why she was doing what she was doing.
“Do you know what extortion is?” Emma had asked her.
“Yes, blackmail.”
“It appears that someone is trying to extort your dad—something to do with one of his books. They’re claiming he knowingly published lies about someone.”
“Oh my God! Does Dad know? Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“Ben knows. And he thinks he knows who’s doing it. More important, that they’re completely wrong and just want money from him. He told me he can handle this without police, but that to be safe, you and I should leave town for a while. He’ll come home as soon as possible.”
Kayla took a few moments to process everything before accepting Emma’s explanation. And Kayla took solace in the fact she had backed up much of her phone and laptop on the cloud.
“I guess this makes sense now.”
“We think it happened after someone saw us on TV at the book sale.”
“I know Dad has some scary fans.”
“I just want to protect you, sweetheart. Get some sleep.”
Now, with morning here, Kayla shifted in her bed to see Emma dressed, sitting at the foot of her own bed watching the TV with the sound off and a phone in her bandaged hand.
“Is that my phone, Emma?”
“No, it’s a disposable one, a burner phone.” Emma nodded to the desk. “There are muffins, a bagel and yogurt if you’re hungry.”
Kayla got a bagel and took a bite. “Where’s Tug?”
“Boarding at Irina’s. After you eat, take a shower if you like, but we have to go.”
Chewing on her bagel and feeling strange without her phone, Kayla noticed that Emma was watching a TV news report on the discovery of a woman’s body in the woods. Reading the graphic, the locater map and crawler at the bottom of the screen, she saw that it was a homicide in Suntrail Sky Park.
“That’s near our house where we saw the helicopters,” Kayla said.
Emma said nothing as Kayla watched, reading the graphic naming the victim: Rita Purvis from Lufkin, Texas. Kayla had no idea who the woman was but she was curious: “Hey, when you came back from there looking for Tug you were all bloody.”
Emma turned to her. “I know. Right near our home where I fell. The whole thing’s so sad, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “Come on, get in the shower. Let’s get going.”
Kayla stared at her, unsure what to think. Her mind was reeling from recent events, including the letter from the college confirming Emma’s attendance, leaving her conflicted concerning her doubts about her stepmother, with a feeling of unease niggling at her.
Emma patted Kayla’s lap. “We’re going someplace safe to wait for your dad so we can figure things out.”
Kayla’s eyes went to Emma’s burner phone.
“Can we at least let Dad know we’re okay in case he’s trying to reach us?”
“He’s still in Canada.” Emma stared at the phone in her hand, smiled and nodded. “But it’s a good idea to let him know we had to get a new temporary number so that he doesn’t worry.”
They took a selfie together, then Kayla tapped out a message.
Hi Dad. It’s us. We had phone trouble and got a temp phone and a new number. We’re fine. Talk soon. Love you. K and E.
While Kayla showered, Emma packed up.
Then she went to the window. Keeping the curtains drawn, she surveyed the motel lot.
A few guests were departing.
Emma saw nothing unusual.
Twenty minutes later they were in her SUV, heading for an eastbound expressway, unaware that a car from the motel across the street was following them.
Eighty-Two
Cielo Valle, Orange County, California
Present day
Ben’s phone rang. He snapped it up hoping it was Kayla or Emma.
“Have I reached Benjamin Grant?” asked a man whose voice he didn’t recognize.
The number was blocked.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Chuck Doan, ABC News, Los Angeles. Mr. Grant, is your wife, Emma Grant, the school counselor?”
Oh God, were they in an accident? Wouldn’t I hear from police first?
As a former reporter, Ben knew police were not always the first to call. He squeezed his phone. “Yes. What’s this about?”
“I’m calling for your response to the case involving your wife?”
Was ABC onto the Eternity case so fast? They couldn’t be...
“What case?”
“Police want to question her in relation to the recent homicide.”
Recent homicide?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rita Purvis. Her body was found in Suntrail Sky Park not far from your home. Would you comment for our cameras? We have a crew...”
Rita Purvis...
Suddenly, the floor felt like it was shifting, Ben forced himself into a chair.
“No.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve no comment at this time.”
Ending the call, Ben cupped his hand to his face, blinking at the fear enveloping him.
My God, what’s happening? Emma wanted for questioning? Rita Purvis. Nothing makes sense.
Ben looked around the kitchen, seeing nothing except—my laptop. He went online to news sites and within minutes he’d devoured the reports of the investigation into the homicide of Rita Purvis, of Lufkin, Texas.
One of the Skull Sisters.
Her body was found in Suntrail Sky Park. Indications were that she’d been stabbed to death. There was a breaking development on all sites: recently obtained video taken a short time before Rita Purvis’s body was found. The video had no sound but showed Purvis in an exchange with a woman in a parking lot.
Emma.
Confusion flooded Ben’s brain when his phone rang again. Praying Emma was calling, he answered.
“Hi, this is Juliet Williamson with the Associated Press. I’m calling for Ben
jamin Grant—”
Without speaking, he ended the call and thrust his hands into his hair when the doorbell chimed. He went to the front of the house and looked through the window. Several vehicles were parked on the street including news vans for KTLA, KRVZ and KTKT.
On his doorstep, he saw a man and woman. They made eye contact with him. Ben gave his head big negative shakes to convey no interviews when the man held up a badge and pointed at the door.
Detectives.
Ben’s gut twisted and he opened the door. Standing behind them he recognized Maggie Shen, who shouted over their shoulders.
“Ben, Maggie Shen! Could we just have a minute, please?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve got nothing to say.”
According to their IDs and business cards, the detectives were from Orange County. Oscar Garcia, a large man with sharp eyes, and Lilly Webb, red hair tied in a tight ponytail, sober expression.
“Just need a moment,” Garcia said.
Ben led them into the kitchen.
“Is your wife home?” Webb asked. “We’d like to speak with Mrs. Grant.”
“No, she isn’t. I don’t know where she is.”
“Why’s that?” Garcia said.
“I’ve been out of town. I just got home.”
“Can you call her for us?” Garcia asked.
“I don’t think she has her phone with her.”
Garcia nodded to the two laptops and cell phones on the table. “Does anything there belong to your wife?”
“Yes, those belong to my wife and daughter.”
“Really?”
“Where’s your daughter, now?”
“She’s not home, either.”
“And do they usually leave home without their phones? Do they have others?”
Ben dragged his hands over his unshaven face.
“You look worried, Mr. Grant,” Webb said. “Is there something on your mind?”
“Look, I just got back from a business trip late last night and I have no idea where my wife and daughter are, and I can’t reach them. They could’ve been in an accident or had car trouble somewhere.”
Webb and Garcia traded glances.
