by Dale Mayer
“Two beagles,” he said. “Don’t know their names. Only that they were brown, and one was spotted.”
“Thanks so much. Let’s keep in contact, in case anybody has an update.” Kirk rang off, did a search and came up with the closest animal rescue center. When he got somebody at the other end, he identified himself and asked, “Any chance two beagles were turned in over the last couple weeks?”
The woman was surprised at the request. “I do have two beagles here,” she said cautiously. “But I’m not sure when they came in.”
“Could you check please?”
“Certainly. Just give me a minute.”
He could hear papers rustling as she searched through intake forms. She came back on the line a few moments later and said, “They came in eight days ago.”
“Do they have name tags?”
“Daisy and Dolly,” she said. “A neighbor found them wandering the roads. They took them home but didn’t find anybody there, so they brought them to us.”
Kirk frowned at that. “Wouldn’t the neighbor have tried again, kept the animals for a day or two?”
“He said he did. But he has his own dogs, and he couldn’t keep them as well.”
“Do you have his name and number?”
She gave that information to him.
He thanked her and rang off and called the sheriff back. He gave him an update on the dogs.
“That’s really not good,” the sheriff said in alarm. “Are you going to call the neighbor, or do you want me to?”
“I suggest you give him a call. Let your deputies know and have them stop in and talk to him.”
“Will do.”
Kirk hung up again and sat there with his laptop open, thinking about a missing mother who had disappeared and finding her two dogs. Did the daughter know what happened to the dogs?
He brought up her file and called her. “What are the names of your mother’s dogs?”
“Daisy and Dolly,” the daughter said. “What about them?”
“They were turned in to an animal shelter eight days ago,” he said.
She cried out, “My mother would never give away those dogs.”
“A neighbor apparently found them wandering around on the road. He tried to return them to your mother, but nobody was there. He kept them for another day or two and tried again. Then he took them to the shelter. The shelter has not heard from your mother or anybody trying to claim them.”
“I’ll get them myself,” the daughter said. “As soon as we get my mother back, I’ll make sure she gets them. She would be devastated if she doesn’t have them.”
“Here’s the number.”
She was almost in tears when she finally got it written down correctly.
“We’re still looking for your mother. The sheriff’s deputies were up there the other day and again today, walking the property, calling for her. There is sour milk in the fridge and old food on the table.”
“That’s not like my mother,” she said. “She never wastes food.”
“That’s what I thought. But it does give credence to the theory that something is wrong, that maybe she’s fallen on a walk, or maybe she had a medical emergency and was alone.”
By now the daughter was crying full force.
“I can’t tell you any more than that yet,” he said. “The deputies are out talking to the neighbors. Hopefully they can connect. Otherwise they’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe somebody has seen her. Maybe somebody knows something about her.”
“And her truck?”
“It’s missing,” Kirk said. “Another reason to wonder if maybe she headed to town for the day and had an accident.”
“She took those dogs everywhere,” Lee-Anne said. “She’d never have left without them. And, if she was coming to see me, she always brought them too.”
Leaving the young girl sobbing but promising she’d contact the shelter about the dogs, he rang off and sat there wondering what the hell would cause a woman to run away and leave her dogs behind. Of course the answer was, if she was alone, and those dogs were everything in her life, the only reason she would have left them behind was if they would have been safer. But that didn’t mean very good things in terms of her own safety. More than likely, something happened to her, and somebody else took her vehicle.
And that brought him right back around to a woman in a lake drowned several feet beneath the surface. And then to Queenie. Damn her.
*
It was cold in his room. But it was better to be here and alone. Daddy had hurt him again. He sniffled. Pulling up his blanket around his neck, he shifted uncomfortably on the bed.
The spiders were gone.
He kept looking for more, but they’d left him. Alone.
Another scream erupted upstairs, followed by a heavy thud, then whimpers.
He scrunched down in his bed, his throat choking back his own cries. He had to stay quiet. He sniffled again. Please don’t let Daddy come down here again. The little boy was so cold; he just wanted this all to go away.
He’d heard them talking. He was adopted. He didn’t know what that meant except he had a real mommy out there.
Silence settled upstairs. And no footsteps. He sighed and whispered into the darkness, “Mommy, are you there?”
He wanted the spiders to come home. He missed them. But they couldn’t come yet. They were doing important work, he knew. They were helping him. They were going to find his real mommy so she could rescue him. He just wanted to leave here. He wanted to be with his mother. He wanted to be safe.
Someplace where Daddy couldn’t find him.
Chapter 6
Wednesday Morning …
“Excuse me,” asked the plaintive voice of the little boy.
Queenie stopped her words tumbling freely after the woman’s question on a second husband. Queenie looked at the little boy, smiled at him and said, “What’s the matter, little one?”
He pointed at the side of her desk. “Will he bite me?”
She leaned over to take a closer look, not sure what he was talking about, but still couldn’t see anything. She got up from her chair, walked around to crouch down in front of him, and, sure enough, there was the spider she’d been looking for. At least it looked like the same one.
With excitement surging through her belly, she shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s best not to touch him.”
The little boy looked like he really wanted to, but his mom tugged him backward. She smiled at Queenie and quickly rushed the little boy out of the tent. Queenie stared at the spider. A line of people still remained outside, but she didn’t want the spider to disappear. At the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to touch him either. But, if somebody else was going to hurt him, he had to be protected. He was Queenie’s only connection to that little boy.
The pinkish color around the spider was similar to the color she saw when her son was close by. Then she heard it. Her son’s laugh. She sent a big happy smile to the ethers.
As always, hearing his laugh brought a smile to her face. He’d always loved nature. Bugs, birds, any animals used to make him laugh. She’d take him to the park just to hear him chortle with joy.
She lifted the cover on the table and nudged the spider onto the tabletop. That was an improvement, but now anybody else coming in would see him right away. She walked around to where she normally sat and pulled out her lunch container. She’d brought some grapes with her. She took the lid off of the now-empty container and upended it over top of the spider. Then she gently lifted the cloth until she could turn over the container and set the lid on it just enough to deter the spider from climbing out, yet giving him an air supply.
Just then people entered her tent. She slid the container on the shelf beside her, whispering to the spider, “Sorry.”
Instantly an almost angry rumble echoed through her mind. She shot a surprised look at the spider and frowned, but several boys and girls already stood before her. It was a group of teens, maybe thirtee
n, fourteen years old. They were laughing and giggling. With a quick glance to see if her son’s pinkish-lavender energy was still around, Queenie straightened, smiled and prepared to deal with questions about boyfriends and girlfriends and schools. They were easy answers to give. Unless they were answers they didn’t want to hear.
It took about thirty minutes to get through all their questions, but they all cheerfully paid. One even left a large tip before they raced out, still laughing and giggling among themselves.
As soon as they were gone, she sighed in relief and turned to look at the spider. She lifted up the container, and, feeling guilty, lifted the lid ever-so-slightly to give him more air. The container glowed pink.
Her son’s gasp and light joyous laughter filled the room.
“I don’t want to do this,” she cried softly but could already sense her son was gone. He never spoke but he laughed all the time. The most joyous sound in the world.
Feeling like a fool, she said directly to the spider, “Sorry for doing this. But there weren’t many options. Do you have a message for me?”
Unfortunately there was no answer. She wanted so desperately for the spider to have some psychic speaking ability, yet why would it? Since her son liked spiders, she’d do her best to keep this one safe. She knew she was making a fool of herself. But desperate times called for desperate actions, and, if anything would assist her in relation to her son, she’d do it.
In the back of her mind, she had that weird sense of being watched. She got up, walked around the damn tent again, figuring out what she felt. Then she recognized the energy, … the weird crackling in the air. How did he do that? She frowned and called out, “Why are you here again?”
There was a shocked silence, and then the sense of being watched disappeared, and peaceful silence reigned again in her tent. She smirked. “I do know you’re there, asshole.”
Static crackled.
A building anger floated around her. It was such a weird feeling. She realized—belatedly—that pricking the Watcher’s temper wasn’t a smart move. She might have been a decent psychic herself, but she never fooled herself into believing she was the best.
A deadly menacing voice whispered through her. Good thing. And then the Watcher was gone.
Chills ran up and down her arms as she realized she might have made an enemy of the wrong person. In a muted voice she called out, “Sorry.”
But there was an emptiness, as if either he didn’t hear or he didn’t care. She suspected it was the latter. He was the kind of guy who, the minute you did something wrong, wiped you off the face of the planet to never be forgiven.
She’d met people like that. They usually had a lot of psychological problems and were often criminals. When she touched these characters’ lives—as she had done many times while working with the police—the energy was wrong, poisoned in some way. Touching the energy used to make her sick, as in almost vomiting sick.
She wasn’t doing the touching with the Watcher—he was. It was unpleasant to be in the reverse situation. And unnerving too but she hadn’t a clue how to change the status quo. Apparently he could check in on her at any time, yet she couldn’t even figure out who he was.
Some psychic she was.
Frowning, she wondered how much he could do. And how much could he get others to do? Which was a scarier thought.
She hadn’t heard back from Stefan, but then she hadn’t tried to contact him again either. She sat back down, staring at the spider trying unsuccessfully to crawl up the side of her plastic container. She felt bad. She upended the container and released him on the tabletop.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I know what it is to be a prisoner. Maybe not in the same way as you, but a prisoner of circumstances, a prisoner of everybody’s disbelief and mockery. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
When a tinkle of laughter whispered through her, she knew her son approved. She laughed, joy in her heart as she watched the spider. How she’d changed these last few years. She’d never have given this critter another thought before. Even at first sight, her instinctive reaction was to scream and back away. Not now.
Still not a fan, she was more accepting. Besides, she didn’t want to let her son down, and, if she hurt the spider, she’d disappoint Reese. That she didn’t want to do. That connection with Reese was everything to her.
The spider stared at her for the longest time; then it walked over to her crystal ball and raised a leg to touch it. Instantly inside her ball, which was just a prop, swirled a mist. She cried out in excitement, “It is you!”
The spider didn’t say anything, and no little boy’s voice rippled through her mind. But, in the midst of the white cloud, a little boy’s face shone bright. Tears came to her eyes, and her heart squeezed tight. It was Reese, her little boy. Even as her heart recognized him, her mind recognized the picture was one she had taken about a month before they’d both ended up in the hospital. It wasn’t a current picture; it wasn’t an updated picture. It was one from her memory banks. She shook herself free of the spell, anger curling inside her.
“I don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it,” she said to the spider, an edge to her voice. “I know Reese is gone. If there’s another little boy out there who needs help, then show him to me, but don’t torment me,” she warned. “Does that other little boy need help? If he does, show me something useful …”
Maybe it was the tone of her voice, or maybe it was a complete coincidence, but the spider scurried around to the other side of her crystal ball. Instantly the inside of the globe cleared, and the image of her son disappeared.
Sadness filled her. Yet a warm energy surrounded her, making her feel better. Her son again. She got up and looked for the spider. But found no sign of him. Why had he come? What did he want? She sat back down, her hand instinctively reaching for the crystal ball and the image she wanted to connect with. Her fingers gently stroked the ball, the overwhelming pain of loss once again in her heart. She needed to protect herself even more. She’d learned a lot on her own but had more to learn. And with the Watcher playing with her, it needed to be fast.
That meant contacting Stefan. She closed her eyes, reaching for the door she’d closed the last time, and opened it. There was a door on the other side.
She snorted. “Of course there is. What did you expect? That he was open to everyone all the time?” She knocked on the door. Instantly it dissolved. On the other side was this glowing orb. And she smiled. Do you appear in any other form?
I don’t know, do I? he asked laconically.
Of course he’d answered her question with a question. Not wanting to go down that road, she said, That’s not why I’m here.
Why are you here then?
He’s watching me, she said baldly. He was just here a few minutes ago. She relayed the conversation they’d had. I pissed him off, but I didn’t mean to. I knew better. I wasn’t thinking. I was reacting.
Of course you were. But having somebody like that as an enemy is not cool, Stefan’s voice said quietly. Sit down for a moment.
She did as he asked and felt a weird sensation as if he’d crawled into her mind. She gasped as weird icy shards slipped in and out of her brain in her consciousness. Are you searching for him? she asked as she finally understood something of what he was doing.
Yes, he said. There was silence, and a few more slices of weird energy, and then he sighed and said, He’s very good. He hid his tracks.
She stared blankly around the tent. But he wasn’t inside my head, was he?
He put an anchor into your system, giving him a deep connection to you. It’s hard to say where that could have come from, Stefan explained. But, once inside your energy, with an anchor in place, he could access it anytime.
Would he have had to be with me physically?
No, not if he’s very good, Stefan said. He could have been originally but not necessarily. At a particular point in time, when your defenses were down, it would have been the easiest
thing in the world to do. But you either allowed it or were completely out of it and didn’t notice. He paused for a long moment. Has there been such an instance?
She laughed, but it was a twisted, angry laugh. When I had a breakdown after a case blew up, absolutely. When I was sick with pneumonia, feverish and in a coma, undeniably. When I was beside myself with grief over the loss of my son, more so than ever.
In other words, there’s no end of opportunities for somebody to have done that.
If I had known that was even possible, I would have taken steps to protect myself. She was still shaking her head in disbelief. How is it that somebody could do this, and I didn’t know?
Often it’s a friend, or it could be a family member, and those are the best-case scenarios. It could just as easily be an enemy, Stefan said. We accept hooks from all kinds of people. But, in a case like this, it’s somebody who probably just wanted to touch base with you. Either loved your ability, appreciated it, admired it, respected it even, and wanted to be connected. It’s almost impossible to know at this point. His voice deepened, saddened. What we do is very lonely. And, if you don’t have a supportive group around you who understands you, you often end up at odds with society.
Yeah, that’s me. At odds with society, she said in a brittle tone. So many predators are out there in the physical form, yet I’ve never came across one in a psychic form.
Interesting, Stefan said. Because, for somebody who’s done the kind of work you did, it often attracts predators from the other side too.
There was silence for a moment as she thought about that. It’s never been an issue as far as I know.
How did you get started doing this?
It happened when I was quite young. I was eight when the little girl next door went missing. I tried to get the cops to listen to me, but they wouldn’t. And then I showed them where she was, and they found her. But then they turned their suspicions on me. It took a little longer for me to figure out that it was her uncle who had stolen her away. Once I got them to see that, and they confronted the uncle, he confessed. After that they listened to me a little more. If anything came to me during my teen years, I would call one of the two cops who had worked the original case. They usually gave me the benefit of the doubt, and most of the time I was able to help. Of course nobody is ever 100 percent, and that’s always a problem. I did a lot of work for years with them, but they didn’t always listen either, she said with a half laugh.
