by Heidi Angell
“Why would I even think about that? What would a smart, beautiful, young woman like Clear want with a guy like me? I am not as delusional as you,” Grant stated as calmly as possible.
“Talk yourself out of it all you want, but I seen the way you look at her. Logic has no place in the heart.” A shadow crossed Bryce’s face.
“Look Bryce, there is nothing there. We come from completely different worlds. I won’t deny she is hot, but there is nothing to even think of pursuing. Just try not to piss her off, huh? I need her help.”
“Why do you think that? You’ve got Chicago’s finest on it.” Bryce replied a little icily, tapping his chest.
“You don’t know what Clear can do. You haven’t seen what I have,” Grant murmured, staring off into space for a moment. “Believe me, bringing her in was not an insult to you or anyone else. I have no doubt that she will bring Kat home. What she does… it is… amazing,” He pulled back a bit. Biting his tongue, lest he give anything away, he shrugged.
Bryce eyed him curiously and shrugged in response.
Clear stood on the street front taking deep breaths. She knew the anger was unwarranted and wrestled with it for several minutes. The effort wasn’t paying off, so she tried once again to focus on her visions of the girl. Tuning into the young woman opened up other avenues right and left. This was the girl’s hometown and her imprint was all over it. Images of her practicing in a studio that seemed to be around the corner, Saturday breakfasts at this very diner, playing in a field with some boys… the images kept flashing by. There was nothing nearly so angry here as the feelings she had gotten in Chicago. The clothes were the same, but the girl’s makeup wasn’t as heavy, her eyes not as… hollow.
Thinking of the girl in Chicago gave Clear a chill. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the wall. They could be eating for a while. Her stomach growled, appetite returning in force. She sighed in disappointment.
Looking up and down the street, thinking of finding something quick to eat rather than re-joining the two bull heads, Clear realized that this town was as simple as it felt. There were no big chain stores, no McDonalds or Wendy’s she could run into real quick. There were three other restaurant establishments, but she didn’t see people coming and going from them. She sighed, accepting that she probably would not eat before dinner.
She wandered down the street a ways, looking into the shops. There was a men’s store and a women’s apparel shop side by side. After that was a hardware store bringing her to the corner of that block. She turned back and headed the other way. The shop to the right of the diner was a sports store and beside that an ice cream shop. One store front was empty with signs for another store coming soon. It was not a name she was familiar with and from the signage she got the feeling it was another mom and pop shop. Small business was booming in Peoria. Past the empty store front was another clothing store, this one geared towards children.
Clear sighed and headed back towards the restaurant. Glancing up, she saw Grant and Detective Bryce exiting the restaurant. Grant had a bag in hand. She hurried to catch up with them.
“Where’d you take off to?” Bryce asked as soon as she was within ear shot.
“Just getting a feel for the town.” Clear shrugged, waving a hand about.
“Oh yeah? Can it tell you much?” Bryce waggled his eyebrows.
“Not always, but sometimes,” Clear shrugged.
Grant hid a smile. “Here… thought your appetite might have come back.”
Clear opened the bag as they headed back to the car and began nibbling on fries. She inhaled the delicious smell of burger and held back a groan. “Thanks,” she said through the mouthful of fries.
They all hopped into the car. As Bryce started the engine, Grant leaned forward. “So, what is this girl’s name?” he asked.
“You don’t already know?” Bryce eyed him suspiciously.
Clear piped up from the back. “The people we talked to described her, but didn’t have a name to go with her. Kat’s relationship with her was unclear. She was just someone new that none of them had really spoken with, but some had seen Kat talking to.”
He stared at her for a minute in the rear view mirror then turned back to Grant.
“Her name was Belladonna Johnson.”
“Wow, quite the mouthful, huh?” Grant smiled, but the smile was not genuine. Clear could not figure out their relationship. Both acted like the other was a friend, but it was obviously just an act on both parts. Did neither of them realize the others feelings for them? Or perhaps they were doing this for Laura’s sake. Clear pondered that a bit further. Something felt right about that. The way Bryce acted around Laura was different. He was sincere with her. He really did seem concerned for her feelings. Hmmm…
Before Clear knew it, they were pulling in front of a very nice house on the outskirts of town. There was at least an acre of land with the house and Clear wondered just how much money these people had. She wiped her hands on a napkin and waited for Grant to let her out.
Hitting the street, Clear was immediately struck with immense sadness. The feeling was coming directly from the home. She tried to put up walls to block it. The sorrow was almost overwhelming. Clear took deep breaths to push the pain away. It was amazing the overwhelming sense of sadness did not reflect on the home itself. The yards were perfectly manicured, the flower boxes full and blooming. The shutters looked like they had recently received a fresh coat of paint.
Detective Bryce led them to the front door and knocked authoritatively. A lovely woman answered and Clear was immediately struck by her resemblance to the missing girl.
“Oh… Detective Bryce!” the woman exclaimed, pulling her robe tightly around her. At nearly 2 in the afternoon the woman was not dressed. Clear realized this was the mother and the source of the intense sadness.
Detective Bryce took the woman’s proffered hand. “Hello Candy. I have some friends that would like to speak with you. Do you have a few minutes?”
The woman’s eyes lit up for a moment then darkness furrowed them almost instantly. “Is this… have you found her?” The fear and hope were warring with each other in the woman’s voice. Clear couldn’t stand her pain, and the hope was even more painful. Grant squeezed her arm and Clear realized that she had begun to pull away from the woman. She leaned into him, feeling comfort from his touch.
Detective Bryce shrugged apologetically. “We have not actually found her, but another young woman from a ballet troupe has gone missing. Some people saw her with your daughter as recently as a few months ago. We have Ms. Angel here, who thinks that she can link more information between your daughter and this other young woman and may be able to use that to find them.” He waved his hand to Clear and she stepped forward.
The woman took her hand and Clear could feel her trembling. “Oh, anything I could do to help,” she murmured, sounding faint of breath. She gazed deeply into Clear’s eyes and the hope shining from them was the type of look one sees in old Frescoes of people meeting saints. Clear tried not to wilt before that gaze.
The woman pulled them into the home and Clear’s first instinct was to pull back into the light. The home was so cold!! Instead she pushed forward and followed the woman through the foyer into a large living room. The woman offered them seats on a couch and Clear sat rigidly. Glancing over at Grant and Detective Bryce she realized she was the only one who felt that it was cold. The cold she felt was not the actual temperature, but an overall timbre of the home. Clear tried not to shiver.
The woman sat opposite Clear and tucked her hair behind her ear. “How can I help?” she pleaded.
Biting her lip, Clear tried not to look the woman in the eye. “Well, I am a behavioral analyst. We look for patterns in victims…’
“Victims?” The woman looked to Detective Bryce. “But.. I thought you said she was listed as a runaway?”
Clear raised her hand. “Your daughter may have left voluntarily, but someone… influenced her decision. Am
I correct?”
The woman shook her head. “I.. I don’t know. I was so surprised by it all…. To be honest, I never thought she ran away, but.. well, the detective and everyone else said…” she trailed off, wiping her eyes on her robe.
Clear touched her arm gently, offering the only comfort she could at this point. “Well, the other missing girl is the same way. There was no deviant behavior prior to indicate that she would run away. See, already one thing these two girls had in common.” Clear looked over to the fireplace and saw photos of Bella… how did she know it was Bella? It felt right. “Your daughter was a dancer. This other girl was as well. We think that may be how they met.” Clear stood and walked over to the picture. She touched the frame and was sucked into a memory of the night the photo had been taken.
It was a big recital and Donna (Why Donna, not Bella? Clear wondered) had gotten the lead part. She was flushed with excitement and her performance was extraordinary. Her father brought her roses on stage during her final curtain and she turned, smiling for the photo.
Briefly touching the other photos, Clear got similar glorious and happy experiences. She turned and looking at Grant, realized that she hadn’t been standing there too long… at least not long enough to draw suspicion or concern.
“I wanted to see if there were any other points at which these girls lives might have been… similar.” Clear smiled kindly. “Are you and Belladonna’s father still together?”
The woman looked at her and her gaze became flinty. “Why?”
“The other young woman’s father and mother were separated. It may be possible that the person who… was involved in their disappearance was feeding on that vacancy in their lives,” Clear tried to explain.
Grant looked at her in surprise.
“No, we… we only recently separated… since Donna’s disappearance.”
“Your daughter went by Donna?” Clear asked, filing the oddity away for later.
“Yes,” the woman looked at her quizzically.
Clear smiled and asked if they could see Donna’s room.
Chapter Eight
The room was extraordinarily neat, especially for a teenager. Grant looked around at all the posters in frames, the awards in frames, the shadow boxes for the figurines and the books shelves with nothing but books neatly stacked in alphabetical order.
“Excuse me, but is this how your daughter left her room?” He indicated the clothing neatly folded in the drawers and the laundry hamper that was still half full of clothing.
Mrs. Johnson nodded. “Donna… well, she was always a unique child. Very orderly and neat. I.. I don’t know where she gets it from, honestly!” She plucked at her tank top under the robe. “I haven’t washed her clothes, because I thought… they might need them.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “Truth is, I don’t want her to be mad at me when she comes home. She was… so particular.” Mrs. Johnson became silent, staring at the laundry basket, and tears began to leak from her eyes.
Clear was running her fingers across the books on the shelves and Grant couldn’t help noticing how she slowed down and rubbed one particular notebook. He made a mental note to ask her about that. Grant turned to the woman and patted her arm. “I understand how difficult this must be for you,” he murmured. “Why don’t we step out in the hall and talk for a few minutes.” He took her arm gently and led her out to the hall.
Clear could sense the organization to this room and thought how incongruous it was to the seemingly distant and rebellious young woman in Kat’s memories. The room was in light pastel colors and there was warmth and happiness in this room. Happiness with order. As she ran her fingers across the book, she realized that every one of these books had been carefully read away from anything that might stain the pages. Not one page had been bent or marred. The books were in careful order by author and even Donna’s journal was placed on the shelf in order under Johnson. As Mrs. Johnson and Grant walked out into the hall, Clear pulled the journal out and flipped through it, grabbing images off the pages and reading sections as she went. The thing she noticed was that each entry was exactly one page long and the date and time were written at the heading each time. Donna wrote in this journal every single day! It was completely full. She must have had more. This journal was for one year. She would ask Mrs. Johnson about that.
The journal for the past year was once again full of typical teenage experiences. Some were good, some were bad, some were really good. Her first kiss happened in October last year. Some were not as bad as they seemed to her. Her first kiss dumped her two days later. She thought it was the end of the world.
What she was getting of Donna was a very organized, methodical planner. That didn’t match a runaway. It didn’t make sense. Clear carefully put the journal back and scanned the rest of the books. They were all cheerful books. Nicholas Sparks, Seven habits of Highly Effective People, Shoeless Joe, Mother of Pearl and several books by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Pretty heavy reading for a teenager.
Detective Bryce cleared his throat. “Any enlightenment, oh wise one?” he smirked. She glowered at him, wanting to respond in as snotty a fashion, but was aware that Grant and Mrs. Johnson were in the hall and would hear any further interaction.
She chose to reply, “You would be amazed!” Smiling sweetly, she walked out of the room and rejoined Grant and Mrs. Johnson in the hall. Mrs. Johnson looked at her expectantly. She waited while Mrs. Johnson finished answering Grant’s question.
“Would you say that your daughter was an over-achiever, Mrs. Johnson?” she asked.
Mrs. Johnson looked from her to Grant. “Well… uh.. she was very…driven.” She looked a little flustered. “Why? Is that relevant?”
Clear smiled, feeling very distracted by Detective Bryce’s renewed presence. “It simply helps me.. to… understand your daughter better.” She put her hand on Grant’s arm. “If you’ll please excuse me… I need to step outside for a moment.”
Mrs. Johnson’s eyes took on a worried look. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Just still adjusting to the area.”
“You.. you aren’t from Chicago?” Mrs. Johnson looked even more confused.
“Please… I really need to step outside.” Clear tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. Mrs. Johnson led her to a back patio and Clear sat in a patio chair. “Thank you.”
“Why are you here?” Mrs. Johnson asked.
Clear sighed. She wasn’t sure what she should tell this woman, but figured that since she was not here representing the Chicago police force, then confidentiality was not of her concern. “Honestly? The other officer, Grant, is the father of the other girl who went missing. He and I have been working together out west and when he got the call about her missing he begged me to come and help. I… well… I am able to give him insights that help him to catch the bad guys.”
“You look very ill. Let me get you a glass of water.” She patted Clear on the hand and started heading back inside. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered through a choked up throat, then slipped through the door.
Clear felt like she was going to burst into flames. She put her hand to her forehead and pressed her icy fingers to her burning eye sockets. She tried to focus on taking deep cleansing breaths and tried to empty her mind.
“So did you get any insights?” Detective Bryce challenged. Clear squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and bit back the sarcasm dripping from her tongue.
“I did indeed. What is your problem?” she hissed.
“What makes you think there is a problem?” he asked, shrugging innocently. But there was a dark shadow in his eyes. She did not know if he was looking for a fight, but if he didn’t back off she didn’t know how much longer she could contain it. She tried to stifle the laugh, but could not contain the smirk that crossed her lips.
“What, you think you know something about me clever little profiler girl? Lay it on!” he growled.
So that was it. He was challenging her position. He not only felt threat
ened by Grant’s presence, but was also threatened by her presence as well. Hmm… good to know.
“I don’t think it is really appropriate right now,” she hissed, nodding toward the screen door that was open. She pressed her fingers to her temples and squeezed, pushing back against the migraine already building. “Besides, I think we will have plenty of time to deal with your issues later,” she growled.
Bryce rolled his eyes and turned to go back inside. Mrs. Johnson bustled out with a cool glass of water and handed it to Clear, then sat down in a chair next to her and began plucking subconsciously at her robe again. Clear put the glass to her head, rubbing the cool surface across her eyes. She took a careful sip and sighed.
“Thank you very much,” she nodded to Mrs. Johnson.
Mrs. Johnson nodded gently. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I haven’t done anything… yet.” Clear muttered, feeling the woman’s emotions flowing over her. It hurt, like being stabbed with a million little needles.
“Oh, but you have, just by being here. I… I haven’t been the same… not since Donna… disappeared.” There was venom in her voice on the last word. “You know, I dropped out of college when I got pregnant and since then… well, she was my career. She was my life. Then she was gone and they were saying that she.. that she left on purpose…” Her voice broke and tears streamed freely down her face. “I could only think that… I had failed!! I mean, I didn’t see it coming… I thought we were really… close… and she was my best friend. To have the person you love more than anything… but she didn’t. You are saying she didn’t run away. She didn’t leave me!” She smiled up at Clear and shook her head. “Her father blamed me. Then when I couldn’t accept it… he left. But he was wrong. They were all wrong. I was right. She didn’t run away, right?”
“I.. I wish I could tell you for sure, but I don’t think so. I don’t know enough.” Clear sighed, knowing how much it was going to crush this woman when she found out her daughter was dead. She had to give her something… something she could live with. “From what I have seen, Mrs. Johnson, you were a wonderful, attentive and loving mother. Donna did not show any of the typical signs of a runaway. She seemed to truly be happy here. You made your daughter happy.” She patted the woman’s hand. “I don’t believe she would have run away. I don’t believe she would have left her best friend and her family.” She smiled and tried to keep the sadness from her eyes to give this woman peace.
