by Abbey, S. C.
The bald man did not answer her but continued to lead her forward. They reached what seemed like a tiny bath tub in a small connecting room. There was no door to it.
“Wash. I’ll be waiting outside. If you try to run, I’ll break your legs. You’ve got 10 minutes girl,” said the bald man, his threats unconvincing, but Christina wasn’t going to try her luck, she wanted some answers first.
Christina waited for the bald man to leave. She took off her clothes and felt consciously uncomfortable of her nakedness immediately. She proceeded to scoop water out of the tub to wash herself, the tub was too small for any adult to soak in. The welcoming warmth from the hot water felt incredible, a luxury she had never placed much importance in until now. She found a clean white towel by the room on a metal hook and dried herself with it. She barely had time to cover herself with the towel before the bald man came into the room again.
“Leave your clothes here, the towel will do, come with me,” said the bald man as Christina fastened the towel at her bosom. She was really beginning to think that not resisting was a bad idea.
He led her into the living quarters past the entrance to the dungeon through a hallway and asked her to sit on a couch. A luxurious bed sat in the middle of the far end of the space, satin sheets covered the huge mattress. She obeyed him, half afraid and half curious where she was and what was going on.
A man chose this exact moment to enter the room and Christina looked up to a familiar face. “Hello Christina, how’s the suite?” Said the man with a malicious smirk on his face.
Christina’s heart sank in denial, yet it all seemed to make sense now. “You? You’re behind all this? How could you do this to me? After all this while. You’re family. I trusted you. I told you everything–“
Chapter 7
HARVEY STOOD OUTSIDE the red brick house on Bennington Parkway in New Jersey. He looked at the white piece of paper he had scribbled the address down on – 90 Bennington Parkway – this seemed to be the right location.
Earlier yesterday, Harvey had cornered Shia to ask her if she had personal information of Christina in her administrative system since she used to work in the department. Shia had initially refused to provide the information Harvey wanted – she had stated it was private and confidential, and that she was a professional. All personal information was for record purposes only. She had said that it was presumptuous for Harvey to expect her to divulge such sensitive information to him. It was only after a promise of a sesame roasted turkey and rocket salad for lunch with a Venti caramel Frappuccino did she relented and gave in.
So much for being a professional.
Harvey walked up the steps and pressed the doorbell once and waited. Nobody came to the door. He pressed again, twice this time. His patience running short out in the cold.
“Coming– just give me a minute–” A voice bellowed from the opposite side of the door. The sound of footsteps approaching grew louder when the door creaked open slowly.
“Who’s there?” Said the women at the door before she could take a good look at the visitor.
Harvey shifted uncomfortably in his spot. “Hey Molly. It’s me. It’s been while.”
“Harvey? Come in please, come in.” Molly said as she opened the door fully. Harvey stepped into the house and was embraced warming by the kindly looking woman. Harvey walked through the hallway of the house and was led to the family room where he sat on the couch. Christina’s mother sat down beside him.
“Seemed like it was only yesterday we were at the Mortuary. I never really thanked you for being there for Christina the whole time.” Whispered the soft-spoken woman. “I take it you know she’s been missing?”
“The cops got to me. Asked me some questions about her.” Nodded Harvey.
“Do you know where she is, Harvey?” Molly asked. Desperation showed in her eyes. “I’ve tried everywhere–”
“Sorry Molly, I’m afraid not. I tried calling and texting her after the cops left but as expected, it didn’t get through.” Harvey said. He immediately felt powerless at the situation. “I take it that you were the one who made the police report?”
Molly lowered her glance. “It had been 3 days before I admitted to myself she might really be missing. I called all her friends, the ones I know at least – I didn’t had your number.” She looked intensely at the coffee table as the hot tea released its vapors.
“You know, after the accident, she had not been the same cheerful Christina.” Molly said with a tinge of sadness. “She became dark, sad all the time. I even managed to get her to come back to live with me, at least for the time being, so that I can keep a lookout on her. Her father passed away three years ago, she and her younger brother is all I have now. I wouldn’t know what to do if–” Unbashful tears began to flow from the mother’s eyes as she hesitated to continue.
Harvey reached for the Kleenex and handed one to Molly. “They were made for each other. I hardly see one without seeing the other. And after four years, she was overjoyed when he finally popped the question. I have never seen her happier.” Harvey sighed. “I’m sure the police will do something about this, they are already investigating. Just the other day, two FBI agents came by my office. Have they come to see you?”
“A regular cop from the station came by to ask some questions about Christina when I made the police report. Harvey, you’ve got to do something. You’ve got to help me find her. Promise you will find her.” Molly begged, her conviction now strong and unwavering as she wiped her tears of frustration away.
“I will see what I can do Molly. Tell me, was she acting strange or said anything weird on the day that she went missing?” Said Harvey. His eyes narrowed with uncertainty.
“Not that I can recall. She went to work in the morning as usual but came back home early. I could smell the alcohol off her breath. She’s been drinking lately more often than not.” Sighed the mother. “She then went back to her room and stayed there the entire night. She didn’t even come down for dinner.”
“How about the last few days leading up to her disappearance? Did she mentioned anything about who she’s been spending time with?” Asked Harvey.
“Who? I have never heard her mentioning about anybody, besides you.” Said the mother, after some thought. “She did mentioned something about being free – having found a purpose in life or something. Which I thought was kind of strange. Like I said, she’s not been herself.”
A door opened and slammed close. “I’m home Mum–”
“That must be her brother, perhaps he would know something about Christina that will help,” said her mother as she stood and walked toward the entrance.
“Mum?”
A young man walked into the family room, carrying a backpack, dressed in T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. He wore a cap turned backwards, two silver piercings on his left ear. A look of surprise registered on his face as he realized they had a guest.
“Professor Nolan? What are you doing in my house?” Said Francis.
“White? This is your house?” Asked Harvey, astonished. He took a moment to connect the dots. “Christina is your sister?”
“Yeah. What are you doing here? I’m not in any kind of trouble am I?” Asked Francis, as if he was actually guilty of something.
“No, not at all. I’m here for your sister. Christina was a close friend of mine. And I was wondering if I could help find out where your sister is.” Harvey replied, vaguely recalling that White was Christina’s last name before she got married. Jenson was her husband. “Any idea?”
“I already told the cops everything. The last time I saw her was the night she left and never came back. I was down the in kitchen trying to make myself a peanut and jam sandwich when I heard someone coming down the stairs. It was really late at night, probably about 1.00 a.m. in the morning. She had no bags or belongings with her, just the shirt on her back and a jacket she was holding on to. It didn’t seem like she had planned to go out for long. She did looked a little frantic though. I called aft
er her but she never turned around.” Said Francis. He removed his cap and ruffled his hair to make it neater before replacing the cap. “Shortly after that, I heard the sound of her car engine and the exhaust as it left the porch – that was the last time I saw her.”
She didn’t bring anything. There was no note either.
“I swear. It’s all Jenson’s fault. He always was a bad influence to my sister. She even quit her J.D. so that she could work nearer to him and spend every minute together in that stupid lab.” Claimed Francis as he leaned against the wall beside him. He flung his bag off his shoulders and placed it on the floor.
“Francis! How can you say that–” cried Molly as she stepped forward from the corner she had been standing at.
“But that’s true Mum. Even in his death, he caused so much pain to her. She’s been a shadow of her former self, and you know it Professor Nolan. You knew her. You knew what she was like. She was a strong young woman who stupidly placed her hopes, all her hopes in love and marriage.” Challenged Francis. His knuckles white from holding his fist too tightly. “The only time I ever saw her laugh after Jenson’s death was at that circus when that clown–”
“Francis Spencer White that is enough.” Yelled his mother, this time a little louder.
Buzz buzz–
The sound of the electronic doorbell broke the tense situation.
The silence was broken by a deep sigh from Molly. “I’ll go take a look who that it.” She disappeared into the hallway, presumably toward the front door. The sound of the door opening came shortly and murmuring could be heard from the family room. The front door shut close again. Molly came back with a man trailing her back.
“Professor Nolan–”
“Detective Frost–”
“Fancy seeing you here Professor. I hope I’m not interrupting?” said the Detective as he sensed the exchange that took place just moments ago.
“I was just about to leave–” said Harvey as he stood up from the couch and walked toward the hallway, “Francis. Detective Frost.”
“Molly.” Whispered Harvey as he embraced the mother of two at the hallway on the way out of the house. “I’ll find Christina. I promise.”
Chapter 8
THE FIRST MOVEMENT of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No.14, Op. 27, No.2, started its first few bars on the symphony channel of the radio in the New York City yellow cab, a highly unusual choice of radio station in a taxi.
Moonlight Sonata. Amazed at herself for being able to name the piece by just listening to a few bars, she smiled to herself inwardly. The piece was one of Beethoven’s most recognizable work – written by Beethoven in his early thirties in 1801 and dedicated to his pupil, Countess Giulietta Guicciardi, in 1802, an Austrian countess he was extremely infatuated with. It was highly possible that he never imagined it would be played in a filthy New York City cab while it was stuck in traffic, two centuries later.
Irritated with the progress of the traffic, the female passenger decided that it would be faster for her to run two blocks instead of waiting for the cars in front of the taxi to move, despite the rain. “Just stop by the corner please. Yes, here will do. Thank you. Keep the change–”
Katie Moulin shifted herself toward the door and felt the numbness came through her upper thighs from the hour long cab ride from JFK International airport. She opened the yellow cab’s door into the downpour and ran toward her apartment building. Early November rain. She did not stop to enjoy the liberation it provided as it landed on her face. With her duffel bag over her shoulder, Katie opened the door to the apartment building and welcomed the shelter it provided, contented at not being in the cold rain anymore. She entered the elevator and it came alive as she punched the ‘Close’ button.
The door to her fairly new one-bedroom apartment creaked open as she entered, she made a mental note to oil the hinges in the morning. She removed her rain soaked boots by the door, her duffel bag dropped carelessly on the hardwood floor.
Home sweet home.
She collapsed onto the blue velvet couch and sighed into its threadbare comfort.
I need a holiday from work.
Her Midtown Manhattan apartment, it was love at first sight. It was one of those rare treats of adult life luxuries she allowed herself to indulge in – considering the rent in New York City these days. Not that she paid for her housing – the agency did. It was a little above what her housing allowance was but she was fine topping up for it. Sadly, these days have seen her spending less time in New York City ever since she passed her probation – you can’t get the best of everything.
Meow–
She stared at the abstract art painting that hung on the wall, the green and red oils laid thick on the canvas in perfect harmony – still wondering what it was supposed to be. She had gotten it at a flea market from an art dealer who promised her it was of some value. Of course it wasn’t. But she bought it anyway. Who is to decide what it was worth as long as she liked it, she rationalized.
Meow–
Mr. Boris. She shifted her attention to her window and a grey British Short Fur with mustard eyes pawed the outside of it. She removed herself from the comfort of her couch to open the window and let the cat in. “Hello Mr. Boris, how have you been? Sorry I was away for so long this time. Has Mrs. Hudson been feeding you?”
Meow–
Katie found a white cotton towel and wrapped Mr. Boris in it, she carried him onto her lap. She padded him dry and placed him back on the hardwood floor. Mr. Boris left her embrace unwillingly. “Now you can skip your shower this week.”
She contemplated whether she should take a shower herself now but the growl from her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had anything to eat since the 10-hour flight. She toyed with the thought of heading out to grab some good ’o unhealthy American food, perhaps a cheeseburger would be good. The flash of lightning and the deep thunder that followed quickly decided against that for her. She turned and looked at the clock on her wall – the numbers jumbled up on the face of the wall clock – she sometimes wonder why did she purchased such an artsy looking clock only to take her forever trying to read the time, all the time. 9.10 p.m.
Perhaps pizza is good enough for me tonight. Too tired to head out again anyway.
She phoned the pizza joint down the street and decided she could take a shower before the delivery guy drops by. Katie dropped her clothes as she walked toward the bathroom. She always like the freedom of walking around her apartment in the nude and where else but in her own home could she enjoy simple pleasures as such.
She turned up the handle to the shower and adjusted the temperature of the water, a mist quickly fogged up the surface of the mirror in front of the sink. Her muscles relaxed under the onslaught of the hot water and she felt loosened up immediately. Her thoughts stray toward her recent mission which brought her to Libya as part of the Interpol Tripoli team – an EU funded project based in Libya to help strengthen the country’s capabilities in fighting post-revolution regional security threats. Since the defeat of Muammar Gaddafi, Libya has been torn among various militias, urban communities and tribes, while the government has been feeble and incapable of controlling the nation. The people of Libya have of course not being idle as well. Civilian armies have themselves against each other in a political battle between the Islamist government officials and their rivals. The month long mission had opened Katie’s eyes to a world not familiar to many Americans. A world, one could conveniently ignore like a fat satiated caterpillar in its cocoon – wrapped up in their first world comforts.
She lathered soap to wash her body. Her fingers trace a protruding scar in the shape of a teardrop on the outer part of her left arm, near to the elbow. It reminded her of the days when she was fresh out of Law school and had joined the FBI fighting domestic crime – rapists, murders, hardcore criminals. Comparing her previous job and her current one, the current one was a whole different level all together.
Harvey.
The doorbell buzzed just as
she stepped out of the shower into her room. She opened her wardrobe and quickly picked out some comfortable jeans and t-shirt. The doorbell buzzed again. Twice this time.
“Coming–”
Katie opened the door and a young man in a green uniform stood with a box of pizza held in his hands, his impatience unmasked on his face. She grabbed the pizza from the delivery guy and passed him two 10-dollar bills before swinging the door shut. Katie took the pizza to her couch where Mr. Boris waited in anticipation for a piece of Italian heaven. “None for you.” Said Katie as she ripped apart the Napoli pizza – the melting gooey Mozzarella cheese burned her fingers. “Ouch.”
She always appreciated a good New York City pizza – the crunch of the thin New York crust, the sweet basil tomato sauce and savory cheese was ultimate comfort food to her. It was probably also because her parents never allowed her near any junk food of sorts – the first time she had pizza was when she was in high school. Her privileged upbringing had sheltered her from the ‘world’s perils’ – her father’s words – which somehow included junk food. She never understood that theory.
Katie dug for the television remote in her couch and found it between the seats – they somehow always managed to find themselves stuck there as if by divine design. She switched on the television so that she didn’t feel so alone in her apartment. The sounds from the television quickly filled the small apartment.
Meow–
“Yes I know I have you, Mr. Boris,” replied Katie as she peeled a piece of charred crust from the Napoli pizza and fed it to her feral friend. She sat watching the news on the television with no particular interest in the weather it was reporting as her eyes threatened to shut. Within minutes, she laid on the couch fast asleep with the unfinished pizza in its box, on the hardwood floor – Mr. Boris’ for the taking.
On the television: “Crime News tonight, the FBI has released its monthly missing persons’ list. Viewers who may have any clues pertaining to the following persons are urged to contact the authorities, simply dial 9-1-1 to provide information. Kathryn Peterson, Denise Bell, Mary Gonzalez, Christina Jenson –”
