“Okay.” She glanced at her watch. “Tell you what, there’s a great little place around the corner. It’s called Sam’s. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. Order me a beer.” She stepped back and made a move to close the door.
“Why don’t I just come in?” I said pleasantly. “We can talk here.”
She seemed to consider it for a millisecond, then responded with a practiced chuckle: “Believe me, you don’t want to see what’s behind this door. It’s an unholy mess.”
She was wrong about that. I very much wanted to see what was behind her door. “That’s alright. I don’t mind a bit of dust or empty food cartons or kitty litter.” I was being as accommodating as I possibly could, biting the inside of my cheek the whole time, resisting what I really wanted to say: “Step aside, you crazy bitch. I’m coming in.”
Another of her fake laughs. “Kitty litter? Are you kidding me? I hate cats. And I’m allergic.”
That’s when I knew for sure.
Katie Edwards was lying to me. Katie Edwards had been lying to us since the very beginning.
“It’s just that I haven’t cleaned up in weeks…it’s been so crazy at work and…really Jaspar, I’ve been so worried about you and Jenn. I’ve been trying to call.”
I nailed her with cold, hard steel in my eyes. “You told Jenn you wanted to get your cat back from your ex-boyfriend.”
It was barely there: a first peek as the metamorphosis began. Tightness around her mouth. Wariness in the eyes.
“Wh-what?” she stuttered.
“When you first met Jenn, in her office, you told her you wanted help getting your cat back from the boyfriend who’d just left you.”
The hesitation was barely there, then: “Oh no, that’s not right. She must have told you the story wrong, or forgot what I said. That was such a long time ago, wasn’t it?” She made a sighing kind of noise, as if to communicate how pleasant it was to reminisce about her and Jenn’s long friendship. “Can you believe it? We’ve known each other for over a year. We’ve been through so much together, haven’t we?”
“Let’s talk inside.” I moved closer.
The face grew colder. “No. I’ll meet you at the bar.” Firmer.
“I’d like to come in.”
“Jaspar, I said no.” Her eyes flickered with malcontent.
“I’m coming in.”
“Fuck you!” She was lightening quick, throwing both the curse and door in my face with matching force.
But I was a father sent on a mission by the ghost of his daughter. Nothing trumps that.
I charged forward and fell into the room like a drunken sailor, nearly tripping over my own feet. Katie was thrown to the floor by the force of my attack on her door. She screamed at me to get out of her home. The whole scene sounded like crazy-town. And it was. If anyone lived upstairs, they’d hear the commotion. I didn’t care. I was barely registering her ravings anyway. Everything was muffled, as if we were playing out the bizarre scene underwater.
The apartment was small and cramped. Overhead lighting from two bare bulbs was exceedingly bright and the room was too warm and stuffy, as if fresh air was a rarity. Some kind of rose-petal perfume or air freshener overwhelmed the space with sickly sweetness, as if being used to cover up another smell.
The kitchen, dining room, living room, and bedroom were uncomfortably squeezed into one room. A door at one end opened to a bathroom. Along one wall sat three cheap-looking wardrobes, no doubt containing the sharp outfits and shoes and accessories that turned mild-mannered Katie Edwards by night into super-journalist Kate Edwards by day. Every free surface and most of the floor were covered with loose paper, magazines, books. It wasn’t surprising to me that a news person would bring work home with them, but this was more like the remnants of a tornado than a collection of reference materials. Was Katie some kind of hoarder?
My eyes landed on a second door. A large shelf of drawers was pushed up against it. “What’s in there?” I asked, my voice menacing.
Katie, making it to her feet, reached for her iPhone. “If you don’t leave right this second, I’m calling the police.”
“Do it.” I said as I stepped toward the door.
Then something stopped me.
I turned and looked at the woman. Katie’s trademark fearlessness, known by scores of television viewers, was gone. The storm of fury mixed with self-righteousness had suddenly dried up. All of it replaced by something I did not want to see.
Stone. Cold. Fear.
It could only mean one thing.
Oh, God.
No.
“Mikki!” I howled, sounding more like a wild animal than a man who feared he’d found his daughter…too late. “Mikki!”
I threw my weight against the shelf and started shoving it away from the door as if it was made of nothing more than feathers.
I felt a body land on top of me. Katie.
I heard another voice, a new voice. It belonged to a woman, shrieking from the open front doorway of the apartment.
Crying. Scratching. Wailing. Threats. Punching. Pushing.
Police sirens.
More voices. Different voices. Loud. Aggressive. Challenging. Warning.
I didn’t care. I kept pushing.
Finally, the bureau was clear of the doorway.
I yanked open the door and looked inside.
And then it was all over.
Jenn was in her usual seat in her usual pose on the couch, legs tucked under her, laptop resting on her thigh, the room’s lighting too dim. Carrying a carton of Reese’s Pieces ice cream and spoons in one hand, I flicked on a couple of lamps as I made my way to my usual spot in the armchair next to her.
“Find anything?”
Jenn answered without looking up, intent on her screen, the off white glow brightening her pale cheeks. “I can get us from Boston to San Francisco, and San Francisco to Auckland. It’s the flight from Auckland to Rarotonga on the date we need that’s proving elusive.”
“Need more time?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m beat. I’ll try again tomorrow,” she said with a lazy smile. Thwacking shut the computer, she caught sight of the ice cream. “Mmm, hand it over.”
I handed her a spoon and laid aside another. Holding a third in the air like a talisman, I yelled: “Come and get it!”
~The End~
Book Club Addendum
Over the years, I have had the privilege to be invited to a great many book club meetings. I quickly learned that no two are alike, varying in size, organization, membership, mandate, programing, and desired author interaction. Discussions have ranged from serious, light-hearted and spirited, to the esoteric and philosophical. In one case the group never once mentioned my book, but the wine was excellent. I enjoyed every experience.
In appreciation, I’ve prepared this short list of questions as a guideline when discussing Set Free. Some of the questions contain details which lead me to issue this SPOILER ALERT. Only read further if you’ve read the book or don’t mind a few spoilers.
Let’s begin with the burning question on everyone’s mind when they read the last page of Set Free:
Is Mikki Wills alive or dead? Why do you think so?
Set Free is about being physically imprisoned and the desire for freedom. Beneath the surface, Set Free is also about the many ways people can be imprisoned—physically, mentally, spiritually—the many ways they seek freedom, and the many kinds of freedom. In what ways have the three main characters (Jaspar, Jenn, Katie) been imprisoned? What costs were paid for their freedom? Were the costs too high?
Have you, or has anyone you know, experienced a type of imprisonment? How was freedom achieved? Was it worth it?
Jaspar created an elaborate lie about what happened to him after he was abandoned in the Atlas Mountains. Why did he do this? Was he successful? Were there other possible reasons for him to do what he did?
Which is the more powerful emotion: grief or guilt? Why? Would you prefer to feel grief or gui
lt?
What are the lies told by the three main characters?
Did the main characters lie for the same reason? How are their lies similar or different? Are some of their lies more obvious than others? Are some of their lies more acceptable than others? Are some of their lies more successful than others?
Which lie do you relate to (if any)?
Is lying ever acceptable? If so, under what circumstances?
Being kidnapped and held for ransom is nearly unimaginable, but if you could put yourself in Jaspar’s place, how would you feel and what would you have done? How is the situation influenced by his mental state before being kidnapped?
In times of extreme mental stress, what best describes your go-to first reaction? (For example: hope, despair, disillusionment, anger, fatigue, acceptance, accusation)
What are typical responses to being caught in a lie? Did the main characters react to being caught in the same way? (For example: acceptance, denial, escalation, apologetic). Were any lies left un-revealed?
Faced with certain death, how would you react?
As a reader, did you find your sympathy (or lack of sympathy) for each character shift throughout the book? When did your feelings change?
Were there parts of the story where you secretly rooted for Katie Edwards to be successful even though you’d begun to suspect her motives?
Can you rationalize any part of Katie’s actions? If so, at what point did she cross the line into unacceptable behavior?
How did Jaspar and Jenn’s marriage survive? At what point was their relationship most vulnerable? At what point was their relationship the strongest?
What methods of revenge are used by each of the main characters? Were they ultimately successful?
Is seeking revenge ever a good thing?
Jaspar Wills is the author of four books: “How to Travel with a Two Year Old and Survive”, “In the Middle”, “Set Free” and “Truth Be Told”. Which of these books (if any) would you read and why?
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