Prison of the Past

by Elle Klass

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot beside a shiny green Mercedes. Jack’s Tavern was a concrete corner bar. A matching planter was built into the bottom of the building with a few neatly trimmed evergreen shrubs. One look, I knew why he’d chosen the place. My eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the dim lighting inside. Wooden tables and chairs were spaced throughout the bar with drink menus encased in Plexiglas holders standing in the middle. I chose a table in a far corner. Above me was a glowing Miller Beer sign.

  Only minutes after the server took my order, Mr. Applebaum walked towards me. I hadn’t noticed him earlier but assumed it was his Mercedes outside because I didn’t figure patrons of this bar had that kind of money. It was more a blue collar bar. He walked towards me with purpose. No smile on his face and not a strand of his thinning hair out of place.

  He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. His frustration obvious in his actions and the wrinkles deepening on his forehead.

  “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” I said with a gentle voice, hoping to ease his anger in order to drag information from him.

  Mr. Applebaum scrunched his thin brown eyebrows. “No need for formalities. What do you want?” His tone meant business, no need to mince words.

  I piped in, “I’m investigating a case that has led me to the Einstein Academy. What can you tell me about it?”

  He unscrunched his brows and stared at me. “The Einstein Academy?”

  “Yes, what can you tell me about the staff at the time your son stayed,” I said in a straight business tone.

  “They have nothing to do with it!” he spat. The hair on my arms stood up. Why would he have such a harsh reaction unless the question hit a nerve?

  Shivers ran up my spine. “I’m not suggesting they do. The case I’m investigating may not be in any way related to your son. We just need general information on the staff: names, demeanor, anyone who stood out to you.”

  His shoulders slumped slightly, showing an ease in his demeanor and his voice quieted and was less defensive. “I had no problems with the staff. They were always professional and helpful.”

  “The counselors, too?” I asked.

  He nodded, almost in defeat. I was trying to read his emotions and something didn’t fit but I couldn’t place it. I had to give a little so I pulled out a class picture that included his son, Einstein, and a few other boys who disappeared. I pointed to each boy as I spoke. “These three vanished within a couple years of your son. Do you know them?”

  His eyes watered as they stared at the picture, taking and scanning the face of each boy. Mr. Applebaum cleared his throat before he spoke. “He was good friends with that one, Burke Childrone. I remember something in the news about his body being found and a foundation of some sort started in his honor.”

  I knew this was close to my heart and would bring back memories, but wasn’t ready for the flood of emotion that swooshed through me as if a dam broke.

  I held back the wave of emotion surging through me, pushing it down. “That’s true. I shouldn’t give you this information because I’m not supposed to disclose details from my clients but you’re a father whose son was stolen, tortured, and killed. You deserve to know.”

  Forcing my own emotions down, I played on his emotional appeal and a-secret-for-a-secret tactic to gain info.

  Mr. Applebaum’s chest heaved in and out in a large breath and his eyes dropped as if defeated. “There was a maintenance guy that gave me a bad taste. He wasn’t friendly, shuffled around and eyed everyone from the corner of his eye. It sounds stupid now that I say it,” he sighed, “I guess that’s why I’ve never said it before.”

  “It doesn’t sound stupid at all and anything can help the case. Do you remember his name?” Demeanor alone doesn’t equal guilt, but it was worth checking into. Within the next few minutes I had a name. It didn’t match the aliases I had but he could have more. The more detailed physical description fit my guy almost to a T. I passed him a number and asked him to call if he remembered anything else, then we parted ways.

  I cranked the motor and set the GPS for the hotel. I’d check in before I went to see Mrs. Childrone. The road clear, I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

  “I can help you,” peeped a young voice that made my heart stop. I jumped in my seat and slammed on the brakes. The car skidding.

  Groupie

  “Watch where you’re going!” hollered the girl as I glanced back at the road, my life flashing before me as I swerved to miss a large tree.

  Shaking and taking deep breaths, the car skidded to a stop as she climbed into the front seat.

  My nerves returning to normal I shouted, “How did you get into my car?!”

  Her dark eyes peered from beneath her blue cap. “You left the trunk open and the back seat folds. I climbed through. Easy as lemon squeezy.”

  I was glad she had a sense of humor, mine was absent. At the restaurant she’d sat alone and now she sat in my car. Clever, very clever. A little me, only I didn’t climb into the back seat of cars and nearly give the driver a heart attack. “Let me take you home.”

  Her head shot up and bold brown eyes daggered my face. “I can help you.”

  At this point I didn’t know her story. My heart said she was homeless and penniless like me, but my brain said: Take a look at her. Her clothing didn’t say much; plain blue jeans, a green hoodie, a pair of Nike running shoes that didn’t look overly worn. From the looks of it she wasn’t homeless or hadn’t been for long. She pulled a worn maroon drawstring backpack from the floor that I hadn’t noticed earlier as I was trying to calm my heart rate. She shuffled around inside it, dragging out a book, my book.

  “I’ve read it like a thousand times.” Her eyes went soft as she peered at me and the freckles on her face appeared to droop.

  I narrowed my eyes. “If you know who I am, then you know I have a nonprofit for runaways and homeless kids, which is where I’m taking you.” I glanced into my mirror. Noting it was clear, I steered the car onto the road.

  She sighed. “I’m not going!” her voice triumphant.

  “How old are you? Fifteen?” I didn’t figure her for a homeless kid anymore, no she was a runaway and I wasn’t getting arrested for kidnapping.

  “Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next month.”

  I opened my mouth to shoot her a response when she cut me off, “Don’t get your panties wadded now that you’re all rich and everything.” Her words stung like a dart. “I spotted you at the Einstein Academy and froze when I recognized your face. You almost caught me then.”

  That was it, what ate at me but I couldn’t place my finger on. The blue ball cap in the woods and the footsteps, the opening and closing door, and flash of blue in the Einstein Academy Library. I sucked in my breath and didn’t interrupt. I was more than curious to hear what she had to say.

  “My brother went to that morbid nerd camp several years ago. He came back a different person. He didn’t laugh or smile anymore. His mind was always somewhere else until the day he disappeared. My unstable mom couldn’t handle it and overdosed on pills and my father had a fatal heart attack last year. I’ve been taking care of myself since.”

  “So you think we can help each other?” I was skeptical of her and her sob story that she voiced with no emotion. She was tough or lying like a dog.

  “Yes, something happened to him there. I can hack, spy, pick locks, hotwire cars. Whatever you need.” Sorrowful pride filled her voice.

  If I took her to the home she’d buck against it and run away. If I didn’t, she’d drive me nuts. If I believed her story I was a sucker. I sighed in defeat. “OK, you can help me,” and I’ll figure out who you are.

  She sat back in the seat, victorious. “I’m Rox.”

  “Cleo.”

  “I know, remember?” She held up my book.

  “What do you know about the Academy?” If there was any merit to her story she must have some type of information.

  “Other than he
was changed after returning. Nothing. Just a hunch. The place is creepy.” She stared ahead at the road as she spoke, which gave me the impression she was lying. What did she have? I’d get it out of her somehow.

  My phone rang, startling me. I jumped again and Rox laughed.

  “It’s just your phone.” She clicked the button. It was plugged into the car and sitting on the dash board. “Hi,” she answered for me.

  “Cleo?” Kacy’s voice sailed through the speaker.

  “Hey, sorry I forgot to call. I’ve been busy.” I glanced at Rox who sat shotgun and brimmed with excitement.

  “Busy? Chica, I know you too well. What are you up to and who’s with you?” Her curiosity rang through loud and clear.

  I hated driving and talking, add Rox and anxiety rolled in my gut. Now how to have this conversation with Rox soaking in every word. “I’m in the states, New York, and at one of the she-lter-s,” I stated, hoping she’d get my code.

  “Ohhh, alright. Call me soon.” She hung up and I assumed she got my drift.

  “This is so exciting! That was your best friend, right?”

  “Yes, her name is Kacy.” I had a little groupie and wondered if that’s what her sneaking around was about. But how did she know my face? We drove in silence after that as I designed my new game plan. I’d let her assist me while I observed anything about her that would help me gain clues about her.

  As in Plural?

  An hour later I pulled into the hotel in New York. The valet graciously took care of the car after he unloaded my luggage. I checked in, changing my reservation to now include two beds. Rox stared at the lavish surroundings as if she’d never seen anything like it. Her eyes filled with wonder and delight, reminding me again of what I must have looked like when I walked into Didier’s hotel in Paris.

  The bell hop opened the door to the room and Rox ran to the first bed and jumped onto it, bouncing from the force. The bellhop eyed her with disdain. I smiled and handed him a twenty. He’d earn it with Rox around.

  Once he closed the door I turned towards her, still bouncing on the bed. “I understand how tempting it is but you can’t bounce on the furniture. Are you hungry?”

  “Debbie downer! I thought you’d be fun.” She stopped bouncing as I glared at her. It was tough giving her the eye when I’d have done the exact same thing. “Yes, I’m hungry.”

  I gave her a twenty. “Go get some food. Can you hang out here without getting into trouble for an hour or two?”

  “Yup!” She took the twenty. “Where are you going?”

  Nosey girl she was. “I have an appointment and you can’t ride along.”

  She sighed. “Ooo K.” She leaped off the bed and stalked towards the door, dragging her feet, then turned. “Do I get a key?”

  This girl was too much. I thought about it. My computer was password protected and everything else of value was coming with me. “Sure.” I tossed it to her.

  I hailed a taxi instead of having the valet get my car off whatever rack it was parked on. That’s how it was done in New York and why taxis were so popular. I slipped into the backseat, gave the cabbie directions and sent La Tige a text: In New York, I’ve been hijacked by a teen and I need your help.

  My phone buzzed a few seconds later: Go.

  La Tige wasn’t one for long, drawn out conversations. I texted him a description: 5’5, 115 lbs, medium brown hair, freckles, goes by Rox.

  Got it, was his response as the cabbie pulled in front of Childrone Publishing.

  Mrs. Childrone, as always, was dressed in style. Her appearance never lavish with excessive jewelry or expensive designer clothes, instead a sophisticated façade that commanded attention. Her fine gray hair loose and fashioned around her face, making her brown eyes pop. The marketing manager sat next to her. He had a long face and short mustache that didn’t complement the other and thinning hair on top.

  “These are the dates and stores available. Because of our long-term relationship with them they are being very flexible,” he stated in an even voice with an edge of don’t-screw-this-up.

  I didn’t take offense but was lost. Stores. I nodded as I gazed square into his light blue eyes then took the schedule. I glanced it over then shot Mrs. Childrone a ‘what the heck’ look. I cleared my throat. “Stores as in plural?”

  She grabbed my hand and squeezed. “I know you were only wanting a single signing, but the opportunity to add a couple more stores would really help the foundation,” she said in a low voice.

  He widened his eyes, making every wrinkle in his forehead obvious. “Yes, why stop with one, with our connections we can make a tour out of this?”

  I stared at the list and cities. My heart wasn’t into multiple signings; I had a tag-along teen and a mystery to solve. Out of the list, one city popped out, Milwaukee. I hadn’t returned there after steeling the judge’s letter opener, but it was an opportunity. I could break in again and rummage through his office. He had to have something.

  I circled it and scrolled further, finding Portland. Einstein’s friend was found on a hiking trail in Oregon. I circled it too then slid the paper across the table, stopping it in front of his folded hands.

  He glanced at it, then turned his eyebrows into a V. “Two cities?”

  I nodded.

  “Two cities are just fine,” Mrs. Childrone said with a wink. I took it he’d put her up to this. “Thank you and you can be excused now.” Her smile unfaltering as she politely said get the heck out. He tucked the paperwork into his slim briefcase and excused himself.

  She turned towards me. “This is so exciting. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you finally agreed to do this,” she said, grasping my hand tight, small wrinkles ebbing from her eyes. I squeezed her hand in return. Even in shock I was excited. We started the foundation to help runaway and abandoned children. In the past few years, the number of children helped was far more than I ever expected. Now I was going to help further and make a few pit stops to solve a mystery.

  A rush of adrenaline shot up my spine. The mystery Einstein set out to solve when I met him. He’d never shared with me that he was looking at the murders of several young boys he thought were connected. One of those boys was his friend and probably what plummeted him into the mystery and out the door of his picture perfect life.

  Instead of heading back to Rox and the hotel, I escaped home with Mrs. Childrone. We spent the evening talking and catching up. She asked about Raul. In a better mind set since his death, and with the feeling of comfort and home, I opened up to her. It surprised me how easy it was and what a great listener she was. I relaxed further and opened up to her about my dad. Her facial expression didn’t lie. She was intrigued.

  “It’s not my business, of course, but I do think of you like a daughter. I’m also far older and I understand loss and death. Einstein was my baby and to this day I wish I could have said goodbye. It sounds like your father, in his current condition, is beginning to understand what a jewel life and children are,” her soft eyes and gentle voice sang to my soul.

  She was probably right. I wasn’t ready yet to let my hate go. That’s what she was getting at. Life is short and far too short to hold in hate. She didn’t say those words, her voice did. “He has three others.”

  She pursed her lips. “Cleo. No child can ever be replaced by another. What people do in their youth under difficult circumstances shouldn’t paint who they are forever. The past few weeks have been an emotional whirlwind for you. I’m merely suggesting maybe you should think about his words. It’s up to you to act.”

  My surrogate mom. She was right. It was easier to hold on to the pain but it wasn’t healthy and his death wouldn’t make the pain I suffered in my life disappear. “I have the next several busy weeks to think about it.”

  She smiled.

  I’d already opened up to her with some of my deepest emotions. Should I tell her about Einstein’s mystery? No. We’d talked enough for the night and I was eager to get back to the hotel and make sure R
ox hadn’t destroyed the room or gotten us kicked out.

  My first signing was in two days. I didn’t get an option on that one. They’d already scheduled it in order to release it to the press.

  Show Me Your Skills

  I stepped out of the cab and my stomach grumbled at me for neglecting it. The hotel appeared to be in one piece so I stole a moment to call Kacy back before heading to the room. I found an out-of-the-way bench, completely private, and called.

  “About time,” I heard the smile in her voice. “Give me the down-low.”

  She got my drift. It was amazing how code talk worked even over the phone with only voices. “I’m in New York, but not at a shelter. My sperm-donor visited my home!”

  “He what?!”

  “He came to my home...” I told her the whole story about my sperm-donor’s visit, his death request, and how it sparked a flame in me to solve this decades-old mystery.

  “So you’re using the book signings as cover? You think you’ll find anything?” The questions rolled off her tongue, one after the other, without giving me time to answer the first before she popped out the second.

  “Yes, and I already found one clue. All the boys went to the camp. There’s a connection and, as creepy as Ms. Bubbly was, she’s not old enough to be the serial killer I’m looking for,” I answered, my mind searching for the dots between the boys and the academy, but they evaded me.

  “That’s too coincidental for there not to be a connection,” she paused for a second, then changed the subject. “Who was the girl with you?”

  I sighed. “Rox.” I told her that story and she busted up in laughter.

  A few hours past the incident it was funny, but something about Rox wasn’t right either. What was she doing at the camp? How did she know the camp was connected? And connected to what? She knew far more then she let on. “Are you finished?” I teased.

  “OK, OK. So the girl was at the camp or the academy. How do you think they’re connected and why this urge to help you?”