by Renee Joiner
“What? You’re not seriously thinking of paying the ransom, are you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” he challenged. “If someone you cared about was in danger, wouldn’t you be anxious enough to get it done and make the problem disappear?”
“Okay! Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t consider—”
“That’s right; you didn’t because you’re not the one who has something riding on the line.”
“I’m trying to save Sarah, too, Daniel,” she said, trying to keep herself in check.
“Well, if you were, then maybe your visions would have been more than just a bad omnibus of someone else’s life.”
That stung, she had to admit. However, she never grew up with the validation of her powers, so it was not that she’d expected it. Yet, somehow one could not help but to place more faith in the people you trust.
“I’m not paying ransoms yet, but I’m not saying I won’t do it when things get tight.” He walked out on her then, lost in his own misery. She allowed it, but the gears were already turning in her mind. Daniel wasn’t thinking straight. That much was clear. He was desperate and allowed himself to keep bad options on the back burner so that he can feel relieved of some of the strain. He was subjecting himself to a panic-button effect. She was afraid that it would lessen his efforts in winning over the puppeteer in the background of this saga. She wouldn’t allow it.
She walked out of the room, looking around for a familiar face. He used to have a partner that he talked to nonstop. If I could just—
She found who she was looking for three desks over. Getting her story straight, she walked over. “Hey, Steve, I wonder if you could help me out.”
Steve was startled but flashed a bright smile when he looked up. “Hey, Tasia. Um, yeah, sure. How’s it going on your end? Are you guys having any luck?”
“Mixed results. I’m not totally familiar with this kind of terrain, though I’ve done alright in helping with some leads.” Of course, the help was supernatural in nature, but she was sure Daniel had not disclosed that much to the other agents. “Daniel is a bit preoccupied at the moment, but there’s this one clue that I can’t shake. It’s a bit weird, though.”
“Try me!” he said eagerly. “This whole thing already seems like a cold case by the way the trails are running dry, so I think we’ll jump onto just about anything right now.”
“So... I’m looking for a dog.”
He looked dumbfounded, and she knew he didn’t expect that. “A... dog?”
“Mhmm. A large, white dog, to be specific. I’ve been looking through some of the photos that you collected and noticed one in the background. To be specific, I think there may have been stables in the back as well. It seemed to be on a big piece of land. Maybe an estate? Basically, what I’m thinking is, if I find the dog, I can track down the place.” The fact that she saw what she did on a photo was a fabrication, but the only logical entry she could find to the story without sounding completely ludicrous.
“Erm...” He thought about it a moment and she gave it time. At least he was not reprimanding her for being unhelpful. His eyes sparked to life, and he started excitedly, “Of course! I remember. I think you’re talking of the Dogo Argentino out on Willow Lake Ranch. God, I can’t believe I had to think so long about it.”
I can’t believe you actually did, she thought. “How do you know about the dog, though, and the place?”
“Well, Willow Lake gained notoriety with that dog, mainly because he was a stray. Old habits never died hard, it seemed, and one day, the owner found him missing. A few hours later, a couple drives up, bringing the doggo back to his dad. They found him at an intersection, walking on the dirt road turnoff leading to the ranch itself. So, the couple decided to take him back. They were influencers and took to the entire ranch immediately upon arrival. The vibe was just great, I think, and so was the generosity of the host and his wife. Basically, they put it on the map. Ever since people have been going for everything from outdoor retreats to therapeutic horse-riding. Even the ranch-owner often takes groups of young guys out all-male getaway spurts. Naturally, the dog is right there along with every trip. He still strays to the wayside. They say he actually stands at the intersection to welcome visitors.”
“Oh my God, Willow Lake. Of course.”
“Yeah. So, guess if you had to tie it to a place…then it’d be there. Hey, weren’t the two of you there yesterday?”
“Thanks, Steve!” she said, jumping up and dashing off to find Daniel.
“We’ve literally been down this road before. If this turns out to be another one of your misdirections—”
“Then we’ll accept it as that. Right now, however, the coincidence seems far too beautiful for it not to conjure something worthwhile. A dog tied to your death premonition just happens to belong to the ranch owner who owns the field where one of your investigation victims banged her boyfriend. I’m sorry, Daniel, but this time I’ve think we’re on to something….”
“Famous last words,” he remarked snidely. She still found his biting tone unexpected, even though she was thankful that her influence as rusalka the day before had not caused irreparable harm. Nevertheless, they had nearly reached the ranch, and she half expected to see the white dog waiting along the roadside.
“No one spoke any last words. In fact, I find it odd that it’s been so quiet on the kidnapper’s end.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’m curious—actually, I’ve been for some time—what were the conversations like to the people the kidnapper called when he demanded the ransom. I mean, in my mind, it just seems as if he were collecting people instead of following through with any threats.”
“You mean in relation to the other victims? None of their families, friends, or acquaintances were contacted to my knowledge. I’m the first one he called.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked, feeling surprised.
“It did, but it started to make sense. If he wanted to toy with me, he would do so slowly. I was acutely aware of what he was capable of right before breaking my vain perceptions of safety. Before he took someone, I love. The first three kidnappings were meant to get my attention, but when he kidnapped my sister, it was his invitation to me to do something about it.”
Perhaps he was right. Yet, there was no way to be sure.
She continued to muse on the possibilities as they pulled into Willow Lake Ranch. It was stunning. The vast stretch of property bordered on groves of trees dotting its edges. There was a semblance of peace that really could take one away from the bustle of the city. She could imagine that the escapism of the place would be appealing. Yet, Daniel’s partner had mentioned that it was popular with large groups of young men as well. She found that detail odd. Regardless of the retreat it offered, she couldn’t figure out what, exactly, on a horse farm could manage to entertain a group of guys for an entire weekend.
They stopped in front of the ranch owner’s home. It was a classic old country farmhouse that clearly enjoyed regular upkeep. It was white and pristine against the open backdrop of the property. On its porch stood a man who must have been in his mid-fifties. He had seen them coming up the driveway and stood waiting as they climbed out to greet him.
“Well, good morning, folks. Glad you found our humble little home nestled here in the valleys of freedom. How can we help you today? I’m afraid our facilities are closed to visitors at this time in the week.” He was friendly, courteous, and definitely had that old school charm that was unique to country folk. In the same breath, he had also called his less-than-modest property ‘humble.’ The marriage of details was starting to perk Tasia’s attention.
“Good Morning... Marshall, right? No trouble. My name is Agent Daniel Cordeiro—FBI. This is my...partner, Agent Jackson. We’re working on a case that has taken us through this area a few times. So, we thought we’d come to investigate and just ask you some questions, such as if you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary around here of late. We kno
w traffic through the area has been picking up as this place has become more popular.”
“Oh my. Well, we’ve never had you, fellows, around in these parts. That is definitely out of the ordinary. Why don’t you come on in, and we can discuss it.”
“Apologies, I’m afraid we’re running a bit short on time, Marshall,” Daniel said.
“Honey,” a voice called from inside before a woman in her thirties popped her head out the door, “who are you talking to— oh! Why, hello.”
Tasia’s entire body tensed. The woman was strikingly beautiful, and the allure of her personality was immediate. Neither of these things boded well in her mind. Regardless, she tried to compose herself, trying to stay unnoticed while standing behind Daniel. It was ridiculous of her to even try. Still, the odds had shifted, and they were up against something more formidable than either of them could fathom.
“Um... sorry to bother, Mrs. We won’t keep you long.” His tone was more tentative, meek, and hesitant. It was a subtle shift, but enough for Tasia to notice and confirm her worst fears. “As I’ve been telling Mr. Marshall, we’re running a check on the area due to an investigation. It’s... going to sound odd, but it’s connected to a sighting of your dog....”
“Lord! What has Whiskey gotten up to?” the ranch owner exclaimed. “That dog must have been making a fair, decent amount of interesting friends if this fine sir is at our doorstep. Darla....”
“Yes. I believe you’re right,” she said, and Tasia noticed how she feigned her surprise. “It’s a bit like that odd couple that came by in blue Chevy pick-up the other day, isn’t it.”
“Wait, what did you say?” Tasia jumped in, suddenly no longer overly concerned over fading into the background. “Did your dog... Whiskey... did he lead a couple in a blue truck to come to her.”
“Indeed he did,” Marshall’s wife answered, making Tasia go cold, despite getting her answer. “He most certainly picked them up on the intersection, and they must have thought his owner to be close-by. We’ve put up signs of late, letting people know that the road leads to the ranch. Whiskey also seemed reluctant to leave the young woman’s side—a dark-haired beauty. Very quiet, with sad eyes. I think our boy may have comforted her, though she didn’t speak much to admit it.”
Though the woman still gave Tasia pause, the news that had been shared far overwhelmed her discomfort. She swung around to look at Daniel, white as a sheet, after making the deductions she had done. It seems that, for once, they were exactly where they wanted to be...
As if to emphasize the thought, she heard the familiar bark of a dog.
Eight
The Thing About Rusalkas
They couldn’t climb into the car fast enough as they saw a flash of white bolting down the road.
“Sorry!” Tasia shouted. “We need to see where he goes. It could lead us to what we’re looking for!” She slammed the door shut, and Daniel sped off. A renewed vigor guided his foot down harder on the acceleration. The dog was fast, and their window of opportunity hinged on spotting to see where he made a turn-off from the main road.
“We’re lucky they can’t control that damn dog,” he remarked. Leaning down on the steering wheel as he made the first turn. The dog still made a mad dash down the road, and despite Daniel’s desire to stay on the trail, he could not implement a high-speed pursuit on those uneven roads.
“I just hope he won’t lead us astray,” Tasia added.
“He is a stray! He could be leading us into a rich wives’ drug cartel for all we know! This place is pretty off the map for most city folk!” He was right. Marshall had told them that Willow Lake Ranch actually didn’t exist. Their property didn’t have a name. It was a fabrication from city Riverport citizens who merely used it as a reference point for the area. In truth, Willow Lake spread out into an entire equestrian neighborhood. Few people drove this way.
Whiskey made a sudden turn, bolting right to venture deeper into the neighboring area.
“Fuck!” Daniel exclaimed as he decelerated and tried to apply the brakes to make the turn in time. “Whiskey is going to cause an accident one day.”
“Whiskey usually does. Some people manage calamity with beer or wine as well.”
“Are you making jokes now? Seriously?”
“Hey, with the way you’re driving, it may be my last opportunity to get the good ones in.” She was holding on to the ‘oh shit’ safety handles of the car for dear life as he swerved around the bend. She got that they were in a hurry, but his driving was just insane.
They still had the dog in sight, who made another turn just as their pursuit was gaining them ground.
Daniel groaned, but he couldn’t go any faster. The roads had become narrower, and they were now surrounded by smaller plots of lands and estates on either side. They were in the right place. The intersecting clues and possible sighting of their main suspect had convinced them they were in the hotspot. It could be no coincidence that the blue Chevy and—if their suspicion proved correct—one of the victims were all seen in the same area. In a long-winded way, they’d found proof of her visions, and even Daniel was finding it hard to denounce.
He reached the turn the dog had taken. To their dismay, Whiskey had vanished. They were deep among the estates. With most of them unfenced on its outer perimeters, he could have bolted into anyone.
Daniel brought the car to a halt. Looking around with wild, open eyes in an attempt to spot the dog. “That dog must be the best getaway suspect I’ve ever had to chase down. Tasia, please... please tell me that something around you is jogging your memory. Do you recognize anything from your dream?”
Tasia surveyed the street they were in. Alongside the houses that dotted the plot, everything looked very similar. “In the dream, Whiskey was running among stables and past a paddock. All I got was the impression that it was in an area where horses are kept. Looking around, that doesn’t really help us out a lot, does it?”
“No. It doesn’t. What about Marshall’s place? Anything familiar there?”
“I didn’t have the chance to look around that much.”
“Dammit, Tasia,” Daniel said, clearly frustrated but too tired to raise his voice.
“Look, stop making me the scapegoat, alright. Until today, I really didn’t know this neighborhood even existed. Equestrian estates seem out of place in this part of the country.” The truth was, she had been distracted by Marshall’s wife when she’d come out. Tasia was still reeling in her efforts to understand what another rusalka was doing in the area.
“I’m sorry, alright. I just wish I understood more of these ‘powers’ of yours. They just seem a little all over the place.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly wake up in the morning thinking of ways to use them in FBI investigations. This is uncharted territory for me.”
“We’ll have to keep looking for the mutt then. He can’t be that far.” Daniel rolled his window down and then turned off the engine. Everything around them went quiet. Gentle sounds met their ears. Leaves rustled outside, and sometimes they could pinpoint the whinny of a horse or even the voices of people being carried on the breeze. It took Tasia a moment to figure out what he was trying to do. He was listening. He remained silent a few breaths longer until they finally heard it—the bark of a dog. “Yes! They’re close. I think he charged up the driveway of this estate here. It sounds as though he is somewhere out back. We can—” he stopped short. “Tasia?”
She didn’t hear him. Her mind had been carried away. The death omen came abrupt and violently, and she involuntarily grasped for her chest as the visceral experience of a vision wracked her body. It ended suddenly, and her consciousness returned to the present as she gasped heavily from the ordeal.
“Shit! Tell me, what’s wrong? You’re not okay!”
“I’m about to,” she huffed out. “I’ll be fine, but you need to follow the sound of that infernal barking.” Wherever Whiskey was, he was going wild, and she had an inkling as to why. “Up here. He went up
this way.”
He put the car in gear, “You’ve never seemed so sure.”
“I’ve never had a death omen that was so vivid.”
“Wait, what?”
“Never mind Daniel! Just park to the side there.”
So sooner did he follow her instruction than she jumped out and ran toward the barn. The small red building was erected next to the house on the property they had turned into. She heard Daniel’s footfalls behind her as she followed. They approached it from the side, but she could already notice the doors standing ajar.
“Tasia! Wait, you can’t just—”
But she did. She recklessly charged ahead of him to see what the commotion was about. The panicked barking of the dog had not subsided, and even the horses had started to get restless. She was unmindful of what she was charging into, even if it was dangerous. Still, a sense of urgency propelled her forward. Reaching the entrance, her eyes darted around frantically before spotting a figure lying crippled on the floor by a haystack—white as a sheet and clutching his chest.
Whiskey stood close by, alternating between a panicked bark and uncertain whimper. The horses, disturbed by what was happening, were growing restless with the noise. Tasia barreled forward just as Daniel reached her. She knelt down beside the man. His face was drained of color and contorted in pain, his breathing wildly irregular. “It’s a heart attack!”
“How did you— never mind. Shit! Not important right now. I’ll call 911!” He whipped out his phone, starting to dial. “Damn it, reception is fucked in here. I need to go outside. Help him with his breathing! Ease the pressure on his chest! God, you’re a nurse... Do anything!” He ran out.
Tasia did try to help the man, even though she knew it was futile. She attempted to move him into a semi-recumbent shock position, only to find him unresponsive. His breathing had slowed dramatically, and his eyes had closed. He was losing consciousness fast. As his body went limp, she knew that he was already critical. His pulse was almost non-existent. Bringing him to lie on his back, she made a final attempt to administer CPR. She rapidly alternated between chest compressions and rescue breathing. Still, she knew that it was unlikely that his heart would start beating again from his ashen face. Regardless, she tried until logic forced her to accept the inevitable.
