INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2)

by Roccaforte, Bella

  I move to the next panel hanging from the wire. A scream gets caught in my throat when I see I’ve drawn Aiden’s features but in a shadowy, dirty form. There’s something coating him that looks like the worst kind of grime and ash imaginable. He’s grabbing my wrist and pushing on his crotch. His eyes are hollow and his face is full of hatred; it's not Aiden, it’s the Specter.

  I stagger backward and look to the next scene. I have a kitchen knife in my hand and it’s raised over my head getting ready to fall on him. He’s holding a gun in his hand, aimed at me. The Specter is there; he’s standing to the side watching Aiden and me with delight dripping from his features.

  Aiden’s expression is terrified; he really thinks I’m going to plunge the knife down into him. I can see the progression in the image of the gun pointing directly at me. I’ve captured the horrified look on my face. I’m absolutely scared shitless. Probably the same look I have at this moment.

  Fear courses through me; I don’t want to look at the next panel. I look away for a moment to catch my breath. Tears already cloud my vision and it’s hard to see. The next panel I see a bullet coming out of the back of my neck and a knife is lodged in Aiden's chest.

  Aiden’s eyes look dead in the picture. Carl is standing in the corner of the room by the door and the Specter is looking directly at him. They are exchanging an unreadable look. I can’t tell if Carl is afraid.

  I back up against the wall and slide down sobbing. Did I kill Aiden? Did I stab him in the chest? Jesus Christ, Aiden, where the fuck are you? I scramble for my phone and punch in his number frantically. It goes directly to voice mail. Fuck!

  “Aiden, it’s Shay, I remember I remember. I’m so sorry please call me, I have to know that you are okay!” My voice is barely coherent through a series of sobs. I finally squeeze out, “Aiden, I also remember that I love you.”

  The phone drops to the floor and I sob until I’ve been completely overcome by grief.

  ***

  Carl

  McNab’s number comes up on the phone. I know I need to talk to him, but she really needs this. If she can remember what happened it will make things easier all around. I just want her to remember. She’s torturing herself thinking she killed Aiden and McNab is being such an ass about letting her remember on her own.

  I know he’s right about not implanting any suggestions, but I think she’s got a good enough imagination that she can implant enough of her own. This is killing me. I can feel her anguish; she’s remembering and I have to just let it run its course. Her pain is driving a spike of sorrow through me I can hardly bear, so I can imagine what it feels like for her.

  I’ve got to break this link between us as soon as McNab says the word. I can’t take this kind of frequent pain and I don’t know how she lives with it every day.

  At the hospital it wasn’t so bad; she spent the first week not feeling much at all. But now she doesn’t have Eli’s constant presence or the safety of knowing as long as she was in that bed the cops weren’t coming for her.

  The wind blows the blue tarp on the roof around, catching my eye. I feel really bad about setting her house on fire, but I had to do what I could to hide Aiden’s blood. I didn’t get it good enough. I should have gotten rid of the knife. I burned all the blood off the walkway and driveway. I thought Aiden brought the knife out with him. But we left it inside and by the time I realized it was still in there the fire department was here.

  When she’s done in there I hope she remembers what happened. I hope she knows that Aiden didn’t mean to hurt her, and that she didn’t really hurt him. That will bring her peace.

  Chapter 11

  Crux

  Eli

  Driving down the winding road toward the park, I take the turns extra-slow. Mostly because I don’t want be here. I hate this place. It’s so full of sadness for her, a sadness that she wears around her neck like an anchor. She pours it out here, always coming back enlivened and refreshed. I picture this place as the dumping ground for all of the baggage Aiden has left her with.

  Her car isn’t here in the parking lot. Should I leave? Should I look for her? Maybe she got dropped off. It would be just like her to get stranded here with no phone and no way to call anyone. I check the time: two fifteen. Preston wants me in the office early for my review. I find out whether or not I’m going to be suspended or fired and I’m running around chasing after her. Shaking my head I smile. I’d go to hell and back for her. I’m just hoping I make it back this time.

  Maybe I was little too hard on Aiden for losing her; she’s a slippery little vixen. I sit in the car for a few more minutes staring at the Goddamn tree. Part of me smiles, thinking about my tough girl climbing up there in her boots. Perching in the tree away from everything and letting her despair pour into the earth away from her. The larger part of me is envious. I wish it were me she shared this place with. I wish I brought her here and discovered it with her.

  Better get this over with. I step out of the car thinking how different it looks since I’m not drunk. It really is pretty here. I walk across the grassy area to the tree. This thing is massive. I walk around it looking up in the branches to see if she’s up there. It's too dark to see anything but the darkness of the branches against the midnight sky. I call out for good measure, “Shay? Are you here?”

  There’s no answer. She’s not here even though I can feel her presence somehow. She leaves her essence everywhere she goes. I swear I can feel her in my house for months after she’s gone. An echo of a laugh escapes me, “Gone.” I know she wants to come back to me. I know she loves me. I even know we are meant to be together, but I have to figure out how to break the hold Aiden has over her.

  I wish I could understand it. I’ve spent enough time with her to know that I treat her much better than he does. Although this last time around I could have done better. I kick at the dirt, walking around the trunk of the tree. I thought that taking the tough-guy road would be effective with her; it works for Aiden. I was hoping it would snap her out of whatever it was she was dealing with. She shut me out completely. It was worse than when Aiden was around; at least then I knew she wasn’t alone trying to cope with something so much bigger than her. I needed to be near her, but she felt miles away sitting in the same room. The light had disappeared from her eyes and she was so distant.

  I should have made her go talk to someone, I should have insisted. Would that have worked? Would we have been together when Aiden came back this time? It seems he always ends up showing up right as Shay and I hit a rough spot.

  She gets so uptight when I drink, so I just don’t talk about it. It’s not a big deal; I can have a beer if I want one. How can it bother her if she doesn’t know? But it's like she’s got this fucking radar; she always knows when I’ve been drinking. Having a beer or two at dinner or lunch is fine. She should lighten up. I know I drink a little more when Aiden comes home. I'm used to being his first stop when he comes back into town and we all hit the Cold Keg; that’s the first bar we all went to when Shay finally turned 21. I love that place.

  I look up at the oak tree and marvel at how much it looks just like the one that sprouts up in the middle of outdoor area of the bar. Huh, does that make the one at the Cold Keg my crying tree? Seems I spend half my time laughing and half my time crying there.

  “Aiden.” I say his name out loud. I just don’t get it; what does she see in him? I lean against the bark of the tree. He’s okay looking. Girls seem to think so; he’d never have trouble picking up a new girl every night. But he’s short and arrogant. So what if he cooks? So do I. Sure he’s got family money, but Shay doesn’t care about that. I have money now and it doesn’t seem to matter.

  I bought a four bedroom house in the best school district so that we could raise our kids there one day. Shay and I are meant to be together. Of course I won’t die without her. I’m adult and would move on at some point, but the love that we share is so strong and real. It’s all I’ve ever known and all I ever care to know. The to
uch of her soft skin, her silky hair and the way she smells feels like home. She just feels like home.

  We’ve shared so much together; she and I we’ve always had a special bond. We’ve had so many firsts together growing up. Our first kiss, making love, saying “I love you,” they were all firsts for both of us and we were together. It has been so amazing and special growing with her over the years. She was worth the wait; she told me the same thing. Her voice echoes through my thoughts, telling me how much she loves me.

  I was the first one to ask her to marry me. So what if we were fourteen and I used an old coke tab for the ring? It was sweet, she loved it. So much that she kept it and she said, “Yes.” That’s one of the reasons I know she loves me. Guilt rides up on me thinking back to the burned-out house when I tried to find some clothes for her. I couldn’t help myself from opening the jewelry box. There it was the engagement ring I gave her tied together with a blue ribbon to the coke tab. I studied it for a moment too long.

  When I opened the lid to put them back in, it was the wrong side of the box. It held five or six rings; I’m sure they were from Aiden. All of the diamonds huge and flashy with gaudy embellishments; that’s not her style. Shay’s perfect ring would be elegant and understated so it wouldn’t take away from the beauty of her delicate hands. These rings were all the pure personification of that fucking asshole, Aiden. He couldn’t even really think of her when he bought her a ring with his daddy’s money. It had to be the biggest. He doesn’t fucking know her or what she wants or needs. That’s why I threw the damn box halfway across the room, I was just pissed off.

  This Aiden problem will pass. I hope the motherfucker never comes back. Part of me secretly hopes she did kill him so he won’t be a problem anymore. If he were out of our lives, I know we could move on. Together.

  “Take her now, while he’s gone. He will return and he will steal her from you.” A nagging voice that feels disconnected from my own sounds in my head bringing my rage to a boiling point. I know Aiden will be back and walk in like he’s some kind of hero. Sweep her off her feet away from me. Fuck! I can’t let this happen. My mind replays every triumphant return of his. Right when Shay and I are at our weakest. How is his timing so fucking perfect?

  Rage overcomes me. Like an idiot I turn, punching hard and lean my head against the tree. My hand is throbbing. There are strange grooves pushing against my head, deeper than the texture of the bark. Lighting up my cell phone I see it staring me back in the face. “Shayden.”

  My fists pound on the tree over and over again until I’m exhausted. I push my back against it and slide down the bark sitting at the trunk. My head is in my hands and despair has replaced the anger living in me.

  The back of my head pounds against the tree twice and I hold it there. The bleak feeling that had overcome me is subsiding. My mood lightens and I can feel peace humming through me. “Huh; the crying tree. Maybe there’s something to this place."

  Something drips onto my forehead. Figures, right when I start warming up to this place some pissed off owl shits on my head. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand and another drip falls on me. Looking up, there’s no way to see. I move from where I was standing to avoid being a target. Still looking up, it’s too dark to see. My cell phone flashlight illuminates the thicket of branches to get a better look.

  My throat goes dry and I can’t choke back the lump forming. “Holy shit, that’s a hand!” I try to scramble up the tree but the dress shoes make it tough. Shit, if Shay can climb this fucking thing so can I.

  Hopping up, grabbing onto a branch, I swing my legs onto another to get a better look at who’s up there. Please God, don’t let it be Shay. Fear is pumping through my body like a freight train out of control. The thrumming in my ears is deafening as I reach a branch high enough to see a body laying in the crux of the tree’s branches.

  My hand rests on my chest as I blow out a relieved breath followed by tears of relief that it’s not Shay. The hair is all the wrong color and it’s a man. His chest isn’t moving. The only assumption is that he’s dead. I hop down out of the tree and dial 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

  “This is AD.A. Elijah Walker; please send a bus, CSI and Homicide to Ryker’s Park in Melbourne Beach.” My head is still swimming in emotion; this isn’t exactly a high crime area.

  “I have dispatched an ambulance and the police to your location. Is there anything else I can help you with, AD.A. Walker?” The voice is curt but professional.

  “Yeah, tell them to bring a ladder.” With that I hang up the phone.

  I move a safe distance from the tree, hoping not to further disturb the crime scene anymore than I already have. Dear God please don’t let this have a connection to Shay.

  Chapter 12

  Trespass

  Shay

  My dreams are still so restless I awake feeling more exhausted than when sleep finally found me. They are filled with images that are just out of reach, brief flashes of memories. Maybe. It feels like Gabriel is pulling at me, his pain churning in the pit of my soul. Aching for him, I keep reaching out but can barely make out his features, never mind actually touch him. This pull he has on me is so strange, I don’t understand it. It’s disturbing, like some kind of addiction that slumbers in the recesses of my mind. Something that is always just barely there when I’m awake, yet undeniable when I’m dreaming.

  My latest drawings are disturbing to say the least. I don’t know whether to take them all down and burn them or leave it to remind me of what happened. There’s still something that doesn’t feel right about the imagery. Of course I don’t want to believe that I could have actually stabbed Aiden in the chest. That would take a lot of force to punch through someone’s rib cage.

  My entire being shudders at the thought, compelling me to stand to get a closer look. To study the drawings, I turn the lights up higher. Following each of the lines carefully, looking for some kind of indication that it isn’t real in hopes that these pictures will spark a memory of the actual events.

  This feels like the first drawing I did of the scene with Taffy, where it looked accurate, but felt wrong. It was wrong. Gabriel was missing. But the second shot I took at it felt completely right even though the Specter was in the drawings, but never visible in the dream.

  To clear the confusion, I push my palms into my eyes and a frustrated groan passes through me. There’s a pen on the table. That’s weird; I put them in the sink to get cleaned, didn’t I?

  How could this be? I pick it up to get a closer look. This is one of the pens from the set Aiden gave me. There’s a drawing on the table. A familiar tree, my crying tree and there’s a hand hanging out of the cradle of branches. Instinctively I pick up the sheet to study it. These aren’t my lines or my style; this is different. The words escape out loud: “I didn’t draw this.”

  “No, I did.” I drop the picture and my heart jumps up into my throat pounding the whole way. My eyes scour the room to find the source of the voice.

  My body is frozen in fear as he emerges from the alcove by the sink. He’s young and a little overweight, with dark hair and darker eyes. I recognize him, but I don’t know where from.

  “Who are you?” The words sputter from my mouth.

  Without realizing it, he’s positioned himself between me and the door. He doesn’t seem threatening, but the simple fact that he’s in here with me alone is enough to scare the shit out of me. I stumble over my sleeping bag and see the corner of my phone poking out from under it.

  “Shay, you don’t remember me?” He moves closer to me; I know him from somewhere, but where?

  “I’m sorry,” I say nervously as I run out of floor and I’m pressed up against the wall, “You look really familiar, but I can’t place you.”

  “I’m hurt.” He’s within arm's reach of me now. I’m quaking with fear as his eyes darken with each step he takes.

  Touching the bandage on my head, “I was hurt and I don’t remember.” The
words come from me weak and trembling.

  He puts his hand to my head and touches the prickly ends where my head was shaved. “Bailey, it’s me, Bailey.”

  My feet won’t move, I want to knee him in the balls and run for the door but I can’t fucking move. “Bailey, yeah from the signing." My eyes squeeze shut and tears heavy with fear drop from my lashes.

  He moves his hand down to my cheek, catching one of my tears on his finger, and then cups my jaw. “Who did this to you?”

  Trying not to offend him, I ask in a careful tone, “I’m feeling a little closed in; can you give me some space?”

  “Of course Shay, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He takes two steps back, never releasing my gaze.

  “How did you get in here?” I ask moving along the wall slowly toward the door.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “With my key of course.” He slides it back in quickly.

  The words flutter through my mind, remind me to change the locks, again.

  My eyes snap open. I’ve had this conversation before. What the fuck is happening here? The room is starting to spin I have to get out of here, fast. “Bailey, I have to go, okay?”

  “Mmmm, that’s not going to work for me. I want you draw with me.” He says with a consoling smile.

  “But I have to. You understand.” I’m trying to sound calm but my voice keeps cracking, betraying my fear. I inch closer to the door. I don’t know what his plans are for me, but I have no interest in finding out. Where the fuck is Carl? Shouldn’t he have followed me? There were no dreams to speak of so I thought he was here.

  “Don’t be like that, Shay. I don’t want you to be alone.” He lifts his hand to my face again. I clench my fists at my sides and close my eyes, turning my head toward the floor to avoid to his touch however I can. Bracing myself for his clammy hands again, I wait. But it doesn’t come.

  “Okay man, you’re done here.” Carl’s voice fills the room with a loud bang of the door hitting the wall.