“I don’t appreciate your tone, Henry,” Arthur said, furrowing his brows. “I am free to leave this room at any time. Are you going to play nice?”
A fire raged inside Henry. It took every ounce of his will to hold his tongue. “Please, continue,” was all he could manage.
“Thank you,” said Arthur. “Now, I understand your doubt in regards to my sorcerer friend. But I assure you, his magic is very real. Being in his presence is like being in that of a God. Funny side note, did you know that he disabled Caitlin’s car two full hours before she tried to leave my company? I guess she didn’t feel the need to rush home to her husband.” His silky tone dripped with derision.
Henry’s pulse picked up. His hands were fisted so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
“But, I digress,” Arthur continued. “The ceremony was to be completed that night with a special knife; one from a set of five ritualistic blades. Unfortunately, we all underestimated our sweet Caitlin. However, by consuming the potion, the sorcerer unlocked a power in your wife that has been pouring off of her for months. The kind of power that could, if used properly, transfer herself and anyone around her to another land. She just needed some sort of catalyst to trigger her. Possibly the theft of the ceremonial knives from police custody could have done it. Don’t believe me? Just ask Detective Stathem. And be sure to ask when the knives went missing.” Arthur pointed with his chin behind Henry
Henry turned. The detective stood quietly at the back of the room with his arms folded. Henry couldn’t remember hearing the door open, but his focus had been entirely on the loathsome man on the opposite side of the plexiglass.
“We’re putting who-do voodoo at the bottom of our explanations of what happened to the missing girls.” Detective Stathem said. “Sorry. Henry, I’d hoped he’d give you something he hadn’t given us on the whereabouts of his accomplice, but I see he’s still making up stories about a magical fairy land. Why don’t you come with me? No need to feed into this man’s delusions.”
“All right, Richard,” Henry said. He stood and walked toward the door.
“If you see Caitlin again, please tell her I miss her,” said Arthur from behind him. “There would be nothing I’d love more than to see her face again. The picture in my cell doesn’t do her justice.”
Henry turned, heat surging up through him. “You will never see my wife again. You will never see me again. I hope someone takes care of you in here, but if you do manage to get out you will stay far away from my family. If I ever see you, I will rip you apart. I’ll find my own knives and use them on you until I can take every ounce of your power. You’re a useless waste of oxygen.”
“Okay, Henry,” said Detective Stathem. “Time to simmer down. He’s not worth the energy.” Richard put a hand on Henry’s shoulder and steered him out of the room. The last image Henry had of Arthur was a smug smile plastered across his face.
When they exited the room, Henry walked up to a cork board and punched it once as hard as he could. The flimsy board cracked in the center and an assortment of papers and push pins fell to the ground. “Dammit! Dammit!” Henry said. “Why’d I come here, Richard? That man ruined my life. I just want—" He slammed his hand against the wall, vaguely noticing the pain that shot through it.
“Calm down, son,”’ the detective said, leaning against the opposite wall.
“I can’t calm down. I thought I could learn something coming here.” Henry laughed bitterly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. That man deserves pain.” He pointed his finger at the closed door.
“Henry, there’s only so much I can ignore before I have to subdue you. I don’t disagree with you, but you need to pull yourself together. You are currently standing inside a prison.”
Henry rubbed his hands over his face trying to distill rage-filled energy that percolated through his body. He bent over and collected the scattered items on the ground, needing to do something with his hands. His mind raced over the conversation he had. Everything the man had said was nonsense. There was no way what he said was true. It was just as likely as… as hearing his daughter’s voice on the radio. As seeing through his wife’s eyes on the TV.
He remembered the knives. They had been submitted into evidence during the trial. There were five knives ranging in size. They all looked wicked sharp and pure evil. He looked at Caitlin when they were placed on the table and watched as the color drained from her face. One of those knives had appeared in his vision. No, not vision… nightmare. It was just a nightmare. Funny how he had dreamt of it two nights prior and then the bastard had mentioned it during their conversation. It had to be a coincidence. He looked up at the detective who had remained on his spot on the wall. “Did the knives get stolen?” he asked.
“I don’t know how he found out about that,” said Richard, “but he’s just using the theft as an excuse to mess with you.”
“When did they go missing?”
“Does it really matter?” Detective Stathem asked. “We’ve determined the theft of the knives has nothing to do with the disappearance of your wife and daughter. It’s just a coincidence.”
“And how did you come up with that determination?” Henry stood looking the other man in the eye. “Tell me when the knives went missing, Richard.”
Detective Stathem let out a big sigh and shook his head. “Friday morning. But like I said, it was just a coincidence. You know the new station is nearly up and running. We had several trucks filled with many different items being transferred over. One of them was hijacked. It just happened to be the one carrying the knives. It was also carrying confiscated drugs and money that we believe were the likely target of the heist. The knives were incidental.”
“Jesus, that is one hell of a coincidence,” said Henry. “Why wasn’t the public informed of this? Why wasn’t I informed?”
“It would be a PR nightmare if the public were aware,” said the detective. “You know elections are coming up, and the city just funded the upgraded police station. It was decided the matter would be handled quietly.”
“That’s complete bullshit, Richard. First, your truck goes missing, and then later that same day my wife and daughter disappear. And the truck that was stolen just happened to be carrying items that had been involved in my wife’s assault case. That didn’t seem relevant to you? Are you stupid or just lazy? Or are you trying to cover something up?”
“Watch yourself, Henry.” Detective Stathem stood straight, glaring at the younger man. “I’ve given you a lot of leeway due to the circumstances, but I will take you down to the station in cuffs if you keep it up.”
Henry flung his arms into the air. “I’m going. Just get out there and find my family.” Henry turned and stormed away. He held onto his frustration as he signed himself out of the prison and collected his belongs. To his relief, the detective didn’t follow him out. He wasn’t sure he could stop himself from doing something that would get him placed in handcuffs.
As he left the prison, Sandra Cho was waiting with a microphone and a camera man. “Jesus Christ,” Henry muttered to himself.
She saw him and hurried in his direction. She pushed her perfectly colored black and brown hair behind an ear as her heels echoed on the ground. “Mr. Kowalski,” she said. “Mr. Kowalski, please spare us a few minutes. Were you just speaking with Arthur Sokolov in there?”
Henry prepared himself for the no comment hand flip when something snapped inside him. “Yes,” he said into the microphone. “I was just speaking with him. I was hoping to find out information on the whereabouts of my daughter and wife.” He stopped walking, allowing the camera to zoom in on him.
“What information did he share with you?” she asked, her professional journalist accent perfectly in place.
“Nothing of consequence in regard to my family,” said Henry. “He’s a raving lunatic who is clearly unstably delusional. I truly hope his mental state will be evaluated before he’s released. He went on and on about magic spells and sorcerers. It was pure
madness.”
“What are your thoughts on the mysterious disappearance of your family? Do you believe your wife may have kidnapped your daughter, as some have speculated?” Sandra asked the question with a no-nonsense attitude. “There have been rumors about your wife’s own mental status since her assault.”
“I know exactly who has been making speculations,” said Henry, “and Miss Conway is nothing more than a fame hungry bitch who is trying to elevate herself by tearing down my wife. As for her and my daughter’s disappearance, I can guarantee you Caitlin had nothing to do with it.”
“If that is the case, then did you have a hand in their disappearance?” Sandra asked. “It’s no secret you and your wife haven’t been getting along. It’s my understanding that you two aren’t even sleeping in the same room anymore.”
Henry would like to know very much who had given her that bit of information.
“Maybe you couldn’t handle the strained relationship anymore,” Sandra continued. “It’s understandable. You work hard for your family, and you aren’t appreciated. You try to do everything right and get shot down repeatedly. Anyone could break from the stress.”
“Now, Ms. Cho. That’s low, even for you.” Henry should be angrier about the insinuation, but he’d had so many negative emotions running through him that he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “I love my wife, and I love my daughter. I will never give up looking for them. What you should be more interested in are the secrets the police have been keeping from the public. Secrets that may shed some light on why my family went missing.”
Eagerness passed through Sandra’s face before she reined it in. The expression was quick, and he would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking. “And what secrets are those, Mr. Kowalski?”
“I have it on good authority that the day my family was abducted there was also a rather sizeable theft from the Greensville police department,” Henry said, baiting the hook.
“What was stolen?” Sandra asked, losing her reporter voice in her excitement.
As she spoke Henry saw Detective Stathem exit the prison and frown in his direction. “I don’t know all of the details,” he said, “but Detective Richard Stathem did tell me it involved thousands of dollars’ worth of confiscated drugs and money. You can ask him for more of the details.” He pointed over to the detective. Sandra Cho locked on to her new target as Henry quickly made his way to the parking lot.
Chapter Fifteen
Caitlin
Caitlin’s head was pounding, and her body was weak. She vomited twice the evening before into the chamber pot and spent the entire night tossing in restlessness. Caitlin recognized the symptoms of withdrawal. This wasn’t the first time she’d experienced them. Her headache had transformed into a raging migraine the day before while collecting supplies in the market.
Esme estimated it would take them four days to reach the troggles’ caves. They needed to circumvent the mountain, because it was too steep to summit. Though Caitlin was eager to get to Elise, she admitted she was in no shape to travel that night. They’d dropped off a letter composed of unreadable horizontal and vertical lines at the local post office for the troggle that day. All Caitlin could do was pray it reached her child before she decided to leave the safety of the caves. They’d tried another fire watch, but their efforts were fruitless.
The sun’s rays were just beginning to break through the curtains that covered their tiny window. Caitlin stared at the sunlight with immense irritation. She’d been exhausted when they returned to the inn, but she only managed to get a couple of hours of broken sleep. Her headache was not improved by the old woman who laid in the opposite bed. After she ate, Esme drifted off and made sounds akin to a wounded bear. Caitlin tried several times to move the woman’s head throughout the night with only mild success at quieting her.
She lay for several more minutes after her first peek of sunrise and decided she’d had enough. She stood up quietly and went to retrieve her tunic and pants, as well as the new undergarments she’d picked up while shopping. In the bathroom there was a small sink. She lifted and lowered the pump a few times until cold water began to drip from the spout. Quickly, she took a double handful of water and splashed it on her face. She learned it took quite a few more pumps to keep the water flowing for more than a couple of seconds, so she used her time efficiently.
Caitlin looked into the mirror behind the sink and was dismayed at how gaunt and lifeless her face looked. Her cheek bones were prominent and dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises. Her skin was paler than she ever remembered seeing it before, with the slightest hint of a green undertone.
Caitlin’s body vibrated. Her hands visibly shook as she reached for the brush on the table next to the sink. Holding her hand out, she willed it to stop moving. In response, her hand shook even more. Caitlin felt disgusted with herself. She was weak for letting herself become dependent on substances, and she was even more weak for feeling the gut wrenching need to have them again. Get over it, she told herself as she pumped out more water to splash on her face.
After she finished brushing her hair and braiding it out of her face, Caitlin got dressed. She made her way to Esme’s bed and shook the old woman’s shoulder. Esme snorted loudly. “Huh… what? Oh, it’s you.”
“We have to get ready to go,” Caitlin urged.
Esme blinked rapidly. “Give me a little longer. My old bones don’t rise as quickly as they used to.”
“This isn’t a joke. The sun’s up. It’s time to get my daughter back.”
Esme glared at her. “There’s money in my coin purse. Go get yourself breakfast and be back here in an hour. Now off with you, snoggum.” Esme rolled back over and immediately began snoring.
Caitlin couldn’t help curling her lip up at the woman. Food wasn’t a bad plan for the strenuous day ahead. She grabbed the money and walked down the stairs. Out of courtesy, she would give the witch one hour but not a second more.
An unfamiliar man was standing behind the front desk as she stepped off of the stairway. “Good morning,” he said cheerily to Caitlin, “and what’s a pretty young woman like you doing up at this hour?”
Caitlin smiled at him and pushed back a sharp retort. The headache was holding strong, and she just wasn’t up for banal pleasantries yet. “I just want to get some fresh air.”
“Dawn is a lovely time for a walk,” the attendant responded. “Early morning is my favorite time of the day, before all of the hustle and bustle. Be sure to stay close, though. This area is fairly safe, but if you wander too far you can end up in less… accommodating areas.”
“I promise to stay close,” said Caitlin, waving her way out the front door.
The crisp morning air felt good on her cheeks. She took in a few breaths through her nose, enjoying the intermingling scents of forest and animals and breakfast items. For the first time since she’d gotten back to the inn, she experienced relief. Her headache was still there, but it’d subsided into a manageable dull thrumming. Her nausea was replaced by an intense hunger that grew stronger as the scent of cooking meat wafted to her nostrils.
Her body was still dragging, but she was feeling less irritable now that she was on the move. The inn was located next to the market, so it didn’t take her long to find the shop that emitted the delicious smells.
A woman near Caitlin’s age was rolling dough as Caitlin entered the shop. All around her assorted meats and cheeses hung from the walls or were piled in large wooden buckets. Caitlin peered into one and saw a large block of ice mostly hidden by the wares on top. The ice was a penetrating blue she’d never seen before in solid form. The color reminded her of the ocean when she and Henry had gone to visit Maui for their official honeymoon the year after Elise was born. The memory brought a sudden, unexpected smile to her lips.
“Hello, there,” said the woman behind the counter, finally noticing Caitlin’s presence. “Sorry, I don’t get many customers at this hour. How can I help you?” Her voice radiated chee
r. She put down the dough and wiped her hands off on a towel.
“Do you sell breakfast here?” Caitlin asked, abandoning the bucket to look at the woman. She was wearing a brown dress with an old apron on top. Her curly blonde hair was pulled back and covered with a handkerchief. The woman’s shapely body hinted that she did not go hungry, and her dimpled smile was warm.
“I certainly do,” the woman said. “The pastries aren’t ready yet, but I have cointroil meat that’s been roasting on the spit all night, and I’d be happy to fry up some skattle eggs for you.”
Caitlin was unfamiliar with the creatures the woman spoke of, but if the cointroil was what she’d been smelling, she was more than willing to try something new. “That sounds perfect,” she said, “thank you.”
“No problem, hun,” said the woman. “The name’s Marjorie. Please make yourself comfortable, and I’ll bring you your food. You want anything besides water to drink?”
“No, water will be fine,” Caitlin said.
Marjorie winked and went back to prepare the food.
Caitlin sat down at a small table. She bounced her right knee unconsciously. It had been a long time since she had the physical sensations of withdrawal. After she had found out she was pregnant with Elise she’d quit everything, including caffeine, cold turkey. She remembered being nauseated and irritable at that time; however, it was difficult to tell whether that had to do with withdrawal or the pregnancy. She had stayed relatively clean, only having the occasional glass of wine, until her cancer scare and subsequent hysterectomy. She had suffered from a bout of depression that led her to start smoking again and made her rely too heavily on her pain medications. She couldn’t remember now what had pulled her out of the stupor, although she was sure Elise had a lot to do with it. She just decided that wasn’t the person she wanted to be and quit everything again.
For a long time, she had abstained from all drugs and alcohol, never taking anything stronger than a Tylenol for pain. After a couple of years, she did start drinking again but only at social gatherings and never more than a drink or two. Then that fateful evening with Arthur occurred, and she dove face-first into dependency. The more the stresses of the trial weighed down on her the more she drank to escape it. When she couldn’t drink, she smoked, and when she could drink, she smoked even more. It was a vicious cycle she couldn’t escape. Every night she tried to black out her pain by blacking out her mind, and at some point, every evening, she would accomplish her goal.
A World Divided Page 17
