by Amalie Jahn
Jose drove directly from the airport to the police station. Along the short route, he’d imagined Andrea’s new life in Baltimore with Carla – how under his aunt’s careful tutelage, she’d progress toward independence while building the confidence she’d need to sustain life on her own when it was safe for her to return home to Arizona. He’d turned the radio up a little louder and began singing along, pleased with himself for the work he’d done on her behalf.
His life wasn’t full of worldly treasures, but it was certainly rewarding. All the academic degrees in the world couldn’t buy the satisfaction which came from being someone’s cure. He was certain, once he slipped the final cog into place by presenting the police with Andrea’s statement and the dirt he’d dug up on Alejandro in the community, with any luck, an arrest, trial, and sentencing wouldn’t be far behind.
Now, a week later, his phone buzzed in his pocket while he was mopping an examination bay floor at the end of a particularly harrowing overnight shift. The number on the screen was unfamiliar.
“This is Jose.”
“Mr. Torres, this is Lieutenant Westin with the PPD. Is this a good time to talk? I have some information regarding your friend’s case.”
Jose peeked out from behind the drawn curtain to see if any other staff was around, and when he saw he was alone, darted into an adjacent room and closed the door.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a good time.” His heart fluttered nervously inside his chest. “Did you make an arrest?”
Westin sighed deeply, and Jose could feel the weight of his disappointment across the line before he ever spoke. “I’m afraid not.”
“Do you need more information from me?” he interrupted.
The officer cleared his throat. “No. What you provided was more than enough for an arrest warrant. Now the problem is we simply can’t find him to issue the arrest.”
Jose couldn’t imagine why the Lieutenant was taking time out of his day to let him know they couldn’t find Alejandro. “But you’re still looking, right?”
“Of course. Of course. But we’ve tracked just about every lead we had, so now I’m calling you.”
Their conversation wasn’t boosting Jose’s confidence. “I already told you everything I know about the guy. I didn’t leave anything out, I swear.”
“Oh, yes, I understand. It’s just that we were hoping perhaps we could speak with Ms. Morillo directly. Maybe she knows a place he might hide if he thought the police were after him.”
A small bubble of anger rose to the surface. He knew he shouldn’t be upset because, of course, the police were doing their best, but he couldn’t help feeling as if he might have done a better job of finding Alejandro himself. “Why would he think you were after him? Did you spook him? Did you tell other gang members you were looking for him?”
“Mr. Torres, I’m not at liberty to discuss all the details of the case.” The officer’s sudden annoyance was palpable. “We do what we have to do to get the job done. What I need from you now is Ms. Morillo’s contact information.”
Jose considered how Andrea would react to being contacted by the police. He knew it was a lead they should follow, given the police department’s lack of progress, but he thought perhaps she would be more willing to share what she knew with him, instead of the Lieutenant.
“I think it might be better if I spoke with her first,” he explained. “I’ll see what I can get out of her and call you if she gives me anything.”
He could hear the officer drumming his pencil against a hard surface while he deliberated. “You think she’ll tell you if she knows anything?”
“She’ll tell me before she tells you,” Jose countered.
The Lieutenant grunted. “Mr. Torres, let me remind you, we’re on the same side here. This isn’t a competition.” He paused for a beat. “But if you feel like you can get something out of her, I’ll let you try first. The only condition is I need you to speak with her right away. No time like the present. I expect to hear back from you in the next half hour. You have my direct number?”
Jose suddenly realized he would be the one who would have to admit to Andrea that Alejandro was still roaming the streets. A pinpoint of pain radiated behind his left temple.
“I have your number. I’ll call you as soon as I speak to her.”
“You have 30 minutes,” the officer reminded Jose, his voice rife with authority.
Then the line disconnected.
Jose cautiously opened the door to the examination room where he’d been hiding to be sure it was still a safe place to talk. Gloria was wheeling a patient toward the elevator bay in the opposite direction, but otherwise, the hallway was deserted, so he ducked back into the room and shut the door.
Andrea answered, breathlessly, on the fourth ring.
“Hey,” she puffed into the phone. “What’s up?”
He was slightly taken aback by her uncharacteristically easygoing demeanor. Was it possible being in Baltimore was already having a positive effect?
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m at a support group meeting with Carla. When I saw your number, I ran outside to take your call.” She laughed. “And for the record, you have good timing. This girl Latoya’s been running her mouth for the last 20 minutes about ‘Terrell this and Terrell that.’ Lord knows I could use a break.” Her breathing had steadied. “So really, what’s up?”
He wished he could report that her abuser was safely behind bars. But, of course, that would be a lie. He would have to tell her the truth, and he honestly didn’t know whether she was going to be disappointed or relieved. He took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out.
“I just got a call from the officer in charge of your case, and they can’t find Alejandro. They wanted me to call you to find out if you might know where he could be hiding out.”
His account was met with silence. He didn’t know what else to say.
“Do you know where he might be hiding out?” he continued, hoping to elicit a response.
“Jose?” Her voice was small, like a timid child speaking to a stranger.
“Yeah?”
“Promise you won’t be mad at me.”
Immediately his mind began to run wild, imagining the worst possible scenarios. What had she done? What did she know?
“I promise,” he told her, although he knew it may be an impossible assurance to keep.
Andrea blew into the phone. “I called him,” she said. “The first day I got here. Just to let him know it was really over. That I didn’t want him looking for me because I didn’t want to be found.”
“You did what?” Jose exploded. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “After all the precautions I took to keep you safe? That would be crazy stupid, you know that, right? Please tell me you’re kidding!”
“I’m so sorry, Jose,” she wept. “I thought I was being super careful. I used my cell phone, not a landline, so I assumed he wouldn’t be able to use caller ID to figure out where I am.”
Jose imagined Alejandro already halfway across the country. “Is there any chance he installed spyware on your cell?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Did he ever have access to your phone while you weren’t around? If he installed a spyware program it could allow him to trace where your call originated from.”
“Wait a minute. Are you some sort of hacker? How do you know this stuff?”
“Jesus, no. I’m not a hacker or anything like that. I just have this buddy who’s into breaking codes, and I’ve heard him talk.” His frustration with her was growing. “Stop changing the subject and be honest with me – do you think it’s possible he put a tracker on your phone?”
“Maybe? You’re making me really scared, Jose.”
He considered the potential danger she and his aunt were now in. If her jealous, abusive boyfriend was on his way to Maryland, Jose needed to be on his way as well.
“Do you think he’d come looking for you
there?”
“I don’t know. If he was angry enough, I guess.”
He was already moving toward the break room to collect his things and clock out early. And although he already knew what she would tell him, he ventured one final question.
“And just how angry was he when you told him it was over?”
A whimper, barely audible across the line, escaped Andrea’s lips. “He told me it’d be better if I was dead than gone,” she confessed in a whisper. “Oh, God, Jose. He’s coming for me, isn’t he?”
CHAPTER
25
LANYING
Sunday, September 18
Shanghai
Lanying’s trip home to Shanghai had been uneventful, which was to say, all of her connections had gone smoothly, and she hadn’t spoken to a single soul, save the ticketing agents and flight attendants who delivered her microwaved pasta and cranberry juice, no ice. At the arrivals exit, there were no friends or family members waiting curbside to pick her up, and although she hadn’t expected to see anyone, it was still disappointing to take the metro and a taxi home alone instead.
It was close to 6pm by the time she stumbled through the door of her family’s modest high rise apartment, located in the city’s Minhang district. A sprawling suburbia with over two and a half million people clamoring about, she met only silence as she set her bag on the foyer’s tile floor.
“Mother?” she called. “Father?”
“They’re out for the night at some charity event.” Her grandfather’s voice was feeble, and she followed it down the hall. Light from his television seeped out from beneath his bedroom door, and she inched it opened to peer inside.
“How was your trip, Granddaughter?”
He patted the space beside him, an invitation to join him on the bed, and she could see the diminishing outline of his frame beneath the wool blanket. Even after moving in with her family the year before, her grandfather’s health had steadily declined. As she gazed upon him now, the sunken hollows of his eyes suggested he would not be with them for much longer, and her heart ached.
“It was nice,” she told him. “Lovely, in fact. I learned a lot at the conference.”
He took her hand, holding it between his own. “And what of the United States? How did you find it?”
Knowing he would ask on her return, she’d taken many photographs of Baltimore to share with him, but given her newly discovered knowledge of the prophecy, she had no desire to bore him with details of the cityscape.
“I made some American friends,” she told him conspiratorially, because this was always how she spoke with him. “Their names are Mia and Thomas.”
“Part of your conference?”
She grinned and squeezed his hand. “No. He’s a musical protégé, studying to become an instructor, and she’s a police officer.” She went on to tell him about their unusual meeting and then fished a folded sheet of paper from the pocket of her jeans. “They gave me this,” she said, handing it to him. “I’d like you to tell me what you think.”
He straightened himself against the wedge of pillows propped behind his back and plucked his glasses from the nightstand while Lanying switched on the overhead light. She watched as his eyes scanned the paper, darting from left to right and back again, and wondered what his reaction to the prophecy would be.
The moment Mia revealed it to her, she had known her grandfather would be the first, and only, person she would share it with. Their relationship was such that there had never been any secrets between them. During her childhood, when others called her names and crushed her spirit, her grandfather provided a safe haven. He was the person she confided in when no one else cared to listen, much less to understand.
In less time than it should have taken to read the prophecy in its entirety, he laid the paper on his lap and slid his glasses to the tip of his nose in order to see her properly. “The Sevens Prophecy,” he said simply. “So now you know.”
The look on his face did not betray him, as it was neither joyful nor angry nor amused, and this cryptic response confused her.
“The prophecy, yes. But Grandfather, did you know about the prophecy as well? Before reading the paper?”
The air felt heavy in her lungs, and she thought perhaps her grandfather felt it too, because it seemed as though it was taking a great effort for him to speak. Finally, he said, “This prophecy, printed here on this crisp white sheet by a modern laser printer, may seem as though it is fresh and new. And it is understandable that it feels that way to you. But I assure you, Lanying, the prediction you carry with you now has been carried for millennia – by word of mouth, on scraps of parchment, and in ancient texts. It has been cast aside by theologians. Revered by soothsayers. Discounted, abolished, canonized, and sanctified. Some say it is the will of a benevolent force. Others the work of Satan.”
“And you?” she interrupted.
The tiniest hint of a smile played on his lips. “Does it matter?”
“Of course. I’ve only shown it to you in the hopes of garnering your opinion.”
He took her hand between his, and she could feel the fragility of his skin against her own. “If you know yourself as I know you, you must admit now that regardless of what I say about this prophecy, your mind is already set.”
It was a true and jarring admission, realizing the depth of his understanding as she recalled the sense of peace which accompanied her first reading of the text. If she’d already committed to belief, why had she sought his counsel?
Of course the answer was that she didn’t want his opinion, she wanted his approval. Needed his approval. But for what exactly?
“What if I am one of the seven?”
His expression shifted and his dispassion was replaced by rapt curiosity. “What would make you believe that you are?”
“Mia and Thomas have psychic abilities as well, and what’s even stranger is they share my birthday. They’ve come to believe they are part of the prophecy. They’re hopeful I may be as well.”
His hand tightened around hers and he studied her face, as if he was searching for something hidden within her features he’d never seen before. “Is it possible?” he said, more to himself than to her, tears welling in his eyes. “My own granddaughter’s been part of the prophecy all along?”
Suddenly the weight of knowing, of understanding, collapsed upon her from atop the scaffolding she’d carefully constructed to hold the admission at bay. Because, of course, it was absurd. Ludicrous. Who in their right mind would believe a group of psychics living in the twenty-first century would stop an impending apocalypse? It was too ridiculous to consider, and yet, her grandfather, the person she admired most in the world, had not dismissed it. Instead, it seemed as though he was confirming her suspicions.
He chuckled softly and shook his head, obviously still reeling from Lanying’s revelation. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it. Some keeper I turned out to be.”
“Without knowledge of the common birthday, how were you to guess? The birthday was what tipped them off about both me and the other girl they found as well.”
His eyes widened. “A fourth?”
“Yes. A fourth, but she recently passed away.”
For the first time in the course of their bizarre conversation, her grandfather flinched. “And she’s one of the seven light?”
“Yes. That is what they said. She died earlier this year.”
He began twisting then, maneuvering himself from beneath the blankets until his feet appeared along the side of the bed. With great effort, he hoisted himself from the mattress into what almost passed as an upright position.
“Grandfather?” she asked, but he ignored her as he shuffled across the room to where his black lacquered trunk stood beneath the window. He crouched beside it, and the bronze hinges creaked as he wrestled open the lid. After several moments, he came up with the item he’d been searching for – an intricately carved wooden box with his name, Feng Manchu, etched in the top. He returned to the be
d, collapsing under the weight of his activity and handed it to Lanying.
“I should have given this to you long ago. I’ve suspected for many years the time was drawing near for the prophecy to be fulfilled and with the strength of your abilities, it shouldn’t surprise me that you, my granddaughter, are one of the seven. I hope and pray though that the others are wrong about the one who passed away. She must not be one of you. She cannot be. For if she is, then all may be lost.”
CHAPTER
26
JOSE
Saturday, September 24
Baltimore
Without giving it a second thought, Jose emptied what little remained in the savings account he opened when he was eleven and bought a ticket for the first direct flight out of Phoenix into Baltimore. After assuring him she would destroy her phone, Andrea and his aunt booked a room at a nearby motel and went immediately to the police. They were still at the BPD headquarters on Fayette Street when Jose arrived later that afternoon.
He’d never been so happy to see two people before in his life.
“Hi,” Andrea said meekly, rising to greet him as he rushed into the waiting room.
He gathered her into his arms, shuddering when he realized just how desperate he’d been to see her with his own eyes. Alive and well.
“Hi, Aunt Carla,” he said, leaving Andrea’s side to embrace the woman he hadn’t seen in over a decade. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Good to see you,” she replied, holding him at arm’s length to give him a once over. “Look how you’ve grown. Into an honest to goodness man.”
