by A J Rivers
“Spice tea,” he sighs. “Where’s the cake?”
“Do you think it has to do with Sarah’s cake she baked for me?”
“Spice,” Sam frowns. “Why does that ring a bell in my head? Other than, you know, cooking spices.”
“I don’t—” I start to say, but then it floods back into me. “Spice. Spice Enya? That company Bellamy found out about in Iowa. Spice tea on the note. And come to think of it, remember a couple of weeks ago we got that flyer on the door to ‘Spice Up Your Life’?”
“I thought that was just for a dance class.”
“I did too. But no other house on the street had that flyer. That’s too many coincidences with that word.”
“Why does that word keep following you?”
“It means something. It has to. Bellamy was never able to find out any more about the company Spice Enya that supposedly bought the house in Iowa. Nothing. There's no information for it at all. But it has to mean something.”
We walk out onto the porch to wait for Nicolas, standing close together in front of the door that was purposely left partially cracked. Neither one of us want to admit how unnerving finding the teapot is. I'd rather just say we are standing so close because of the cold. Nicolas must have been driving down Main Street, probably looking for somewhere to pick up breakfast before going into the station because it doesn't take him too long to get to the cabin. He moves quickly to us as soon as he gets out of the car, his hand noticeably rested on the gun at his hip.
“Where was it?” he asks.
“On the stove,” I tell him. “Come in; I'll show you.”
We cross through the cabin into the kitchen and stand at the side of the stove, staring at the gradually cooling teapot.
“And it was like this when you came in?” he asks.
“No. It was on the burner and whistling. Somebody took the time to not only bring it here, but to fill it with water and tea, and set it to boil. It was whistling full blast when we got here, so it had been long enough for the water to reach a full boil. But there's still plenty in the pot. It hasn't evaporated away yet, so it wasn't on here for too long. It's not a very big window.”
“I'll call for backup, and we'll search the area. I'm sure you had the door locked, right?” he asks.
“Of course we did,” I say. “I already told you we had somebody creeping around here last night before you got here. I'm not going to just leave the door open and invite everybody in.”
“Look around. See if anything has been taken or moved. I'm going to call the station.”
He walks outside to use the radio in his car to get backup, and Sam and I start searching the cabin. Just like last night, there doesn't seem to be anything different about it than it was when we left early this morning. Everything is in the same place, and I don't notice anything new. We go through each of the rooms carefully; then I bring him over to the basement door.
“Not my favorite place in the cabin,” I say, remembering the moment the electricity went out, and Jake easily navigated down to the circuit breaker, confirming my suspicions about him.
"Do you want me to check it out?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I'll be fine."
We go down into the basement and look around. There's very little in the tight space, so it doesn't take long to confirm there's no one hunkered down here waiting to jump out at us. As we climb back up onto the main floor, Nicolas comes back into the cabin.
"They'll be here soon. Did you notice anything missing or changed?” he asks.
“No. Everything's exactly like it was before we left except for the lovely spot of tea the cabin apparently prepared for us by itself,” I say. “Holiday Spice.”
“That’s a bit out of season.”
“It also wasn’t in the cabin. It was intentional. The word ‘holiday’ is blacked out,” I say.
“So, just ‘spice’?” he asks.
“The word ‘spice’ has been following me around since I started finding out more about my family’s past. There’s a company called Spice Enya that owns the house my grandparents used to and where my family lived for a while, but we haven’t been able to find out anything about the company. There have been a few times now where I’ve encountered it,” I tell him.
“That’s a strange company name,” he notes. “Especially for investment.”
“It is,” I confirm. “But obviously it means something.”
The young officer glances to the side just slightly, like he’s trying to see a fleeting thought that’s getting away from him. It only lasts a second before he looks back at me again.
“We're going to want to search ourselves if that's alright with you.”
“That's fine. I'm not going to be here,” I say.
“What do you mean?” Sam asks.
“You do realize this means Catch Me is here. In Feathered Nest. He knew when we left, and he knew when we were on our way back. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly feel like sitting around here today. Start calling the hotels around here.”
I head for the door and Sam follows.
“You want to find somewhere else to stay?” he asks.
“No. I want to find out who else is staying around here.”
I'm already on the phone with the nearest hotel by the time I climb into the car.
"My name is Agent Griffin. I'm with the FBI," I say as the clerk answers at the first hotel.
“What can I help you with?” she asks.
"Can you tell me how many people have checked in over the last five days?"
"Give me just a minute."
I wait impatiently until she comes back and gives me a rundown of everybody who has checked in to the hotel. She's able to give me a few details about them, and the fact that most of them have already checked out. None of them sound like the right person, though, and I thank her before hanging up. I'm about to look up the number to the next hotel when a thought flashes through my mind. Sam gets behind the wheel as I'm calling Nicolas.
"Are you still outside?" he asks.
"Yes, but we're leaving. I need you to do something for me. Have somebody from the station get in touch with every hotel within a twenty-mile radius. Have them print out the information for everyone who has checked in for the last week. Actually, make that two weeks. Most of them will probably be fine handing it over to the police, but if they put up a fight because there's no warrant, start working on one. If this guy got a room to stay in while he's here playing tag with me, we need to find him," I say.
"Anything else?" he asks, some of the aggravation returning to his voice.
"Yes. Have people out in the woods, campgrounds, empty buildings. Check for any signs of camping," I say. "And lock up when you leave."
"Why are you having them get the hotel information?" Sam asks when I get off the phone. "I thought that's what you were doing."
"It was, but I changed my mind. There's a specific one I want to go to," I explain.
"Why?"
"The note left on the car said 'Jake gives his regards'. In any other situation, I might say it was just a disturbing touch for the sake of being disturbing. But not with this guy. He doesn't do anything without a meaning. So, maybe it's time to go back to the beginning of the investigation."
"Wouldn't that be the cabin?"
"The investigation into Ron Murdock."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lotan
Fifteen years ago…
"Don't let the sun catch you crying," he sang softly to himself as he walked down the dusty hallway.
Hours had passed since he’d first climbed into the hotel and waited. He didn't realize how much time had passed. That old saying must really be right. Time flies when you're having fun. Only, he wouldn't really say this was fun. Satisfying and vindicating, yes. But every moment was reliving the pain of that night two years before, when he’d discovered the only woman he ever loved was taken from the planet. And he couldn't forget the day it was. Seeking vengeance was in honor o
f Emma's birthday, but he couldn't bring himself to feel celebratory. Not yet. Maybe the day would come that he would be able to have those feelings.
That day would come. He couldn't let himself think otherwise. As much as it hurt to be away from her now, it wouldn't always be this way. When this night was done and he had fulfilled the duties he placed on himself, he would have to take a step back for a while. But when that time was done, all his concentration could go back to Emma. He would find her and take her back. That would take time. He knew that. It wasn't going to be as simple as walking into her life and having her know immediately who he was. Lotan wished that could happen. It would be his greatest joy. The greatest joy he was capable of now, anyway. But that wasn't realistic.
She already had a lifetime of programming and carefully told lies creating the construct of her life. Everything Emma believed and felt was because that's what was taught to her. She couldn't help it. She was still so young and impressionable. Especially now after losing her mother. She would cling desperately to what she thought she knew, and it would be traumatic for her to face another sudden change. That's why he had to be patient and take his time. But it would be worth it. He had already waited this long for her. Waiting a little longer was a small sacrifice.
Ahead of him, one of the boards covering up a window had slipped just enough to let in a bit of light from outside. It wasn't quite sunrise yet. Just that hazy part of night that comes just after the darkest moments. When moonlight and starlight start to blend together, and the edges of the world begin to glow. It was the sight of that light when he was walking away from the pool that got the old British Invasion songs stuck in his head. He hummed one now as he continued walking down the hallway. It was quiet, but that didn't discourage him.
Levi must not have realized how much dust was on the floor. The freshest footsteps were easy to discern from the older ones already covering over with new particles drifting down from the ceiling. Some footprints even overlapped in differing levels of dust, where each of the three men had passed over the same place several times. But Lotan could still identify them. He could tell which of the footprints were different from those leading to the door to the roof. Boots for him, flimsy broken down sneakers for Thomas.
Tracing the footsteps with the beam of his flashlight and the helpful glow coming in from around the hotel, he could make a guess where Levi had gone. It was one of those choices that might seem obvious, the best place to go if he couldn't get out of the hotel but needed to not be so visible. But in reality, it was a terrible choice. The echoing of the heavy door leading down to the mostly empty basement meant there were few places to hide.
Lotan’s humming got louder as he walked slowly down the stairs, letting each of his footfalls accent the song. Down here was still completely dark. There were no windows to let in the faint beginning of light, and the emergency bulbs that would have once glowed in the upper corners of the ceiling had long since extinguished. It was dark, but the basement wasn't completely quiet. To one side, he heard squeaks and the faint scratching of tiny claws. He smiled. Now he knew both of his traps had worked. Humans in one. Rats in the other.
He swept his light around the room, catching every corner and bending around stacks of old furniture and boxes that looked like they were filled with unclaimed possessions from previous guests. It didn't take long for him to hear choked, terrified breathing. As hard as Levi was trying to control himself and stay silent enough to escape, he couldn't. The terror had taken over. And for good reason.
Lotan steadied himself. He dried his hands of as much of the blood as possible so he wouldn't lose grip on his chain. As he pulled it out of his bag, Levi burst out from behind a stack of boxes. He rammed into Lotan, knocking him backwards, so his flashlight skidded across the floor. Lotan hit the ground but was back up on his feet in an instant. He could hear Levi running, and he snatched his flashlight to find him.
It was obvious the other man was disoriented and turned around because instead of heading toward the exit, he was moving deeper into the basement. Lotan didn't mind. The maze wasn't complicated. There wasn't enough still stored down here to create many places to cower. But it was still a touch more excitement. Let Levi run and dart for a few moments before he tired of the chase. Following the echo of his footsteps, Lotan looped around, so Levi had no choice but to run directly toward him. One hard hit on the side of the head with the flashlight rendered him dizzy and unstable on his feet. He tried to keep going, but Lotan wrapped the length of chain around both of his hands and swept it around Levi's head, whipping him around in one movement, so he stood behind him with the chain twisted tight.
Levi gasped and struggled against the chain. He tried to kick Lotan, to force him away. But he'd been through so much over the last two years. His body wasn't strong and resilient like it used to be. It almost seemed relieved to be giving up and sinking down under the crushing pressure of the chain on the front of his throat, though his eyes were still wide in terror as Lotan brought him to the floor and rolled him over.
He clawed at the floor in much the same way that Thomas had clawed at the roof, trying to drag himself away from Lotan.
"Where are you trying to go, Levi?" he asked. "Do you think you can just escape?"
Lotan yanked the chain. It cut deeper into the man's neck. Levi tried to say something, but his voice wouldn't come out.
"I'm sorry," Lotan said calmly. "I can't hear you. You'll really have to speak up next time. It's been lovely seeing the two of you again, but I really must be going now. You understand. There's just one thing I need to do first."
He stepped over Levi and used the chain to drag him across the floor. Levi kicked and thrashed as hard as he could, but his strength was waning quickly. Lotan got to the wooden box he had already prepared. Before luring the men here by pretending to be another defector from Leviathan wanting to help them, he’d spent time in the hotel, getting familiar with it and preparing what he needed. It was easy to secure the room doors that weren't already locked, so they had fewer places to go. He had no trouble getting accustomed to the hallways and the sounds of the different areas. By now, he could navigate it even without being able to see clearly.
But this box had been more of a challenge. It needed to be perfect. Thomas had torn away his heart, so Lotan tore away his life. Levi had trapped him in a suffocating place impossible to escape from while the agony of losing Mariya ate away at him. So he would experience the same with this box. It had to be exactly right, but he was finally satisfied.
He opened the lid to reveal the chains inside. They were soldered to thick metal bands around the bottom of the box. The perfect place for Levi to lay. But he was still struggling too much. The fight with Thomas had taken much of Lotan's energy, and he didn't want to risk this failing. He gathered up the chain tighter around his hands, twisting and pulling until Levi's eyes fluttered closed, and his thrashing stopped.
He wasn't dead. He didn’t have the luxury. Lotan knew when to stop. He knew the line and how not to cross it.
Hoisting Levi into the box, he stripped away his jeans and tore open his shirt to reveal more of his skin; then he secured the chains around his chest, hips, thighs, and ankles. Holes on either side of the box and down at the end were just big enough to shove his hands and feet through. Working quickly, so Levi didn't wake up too soon, Lotan removed the chain from around his neck and set it aside. He went back to the front of the basement, following the sound of the chattering and squeaks. After three days in the trap with only water, they would be hungry. But Lotan would take care of that.
The flashlight showed the color in Levi's face was just starting to come back as Lotan got back to the box. He took a pouch from the bag secured across his chest and to his hip and opened it. The rats in the cage chattered louder, begging for the smell of the grains mixed with peanut butter as Lotan sprinkled the ground mixture over Levi. He then piled more outside the box on either side and down at the end. Rats are incredible little creatures.
They seem so big until you see them condense and squeeze themselves through tiny spaces to get where they want to go.
Of course, even the most limber rat can find a space too small to pass through. Then he would have to gnaw his way through whatever is blocking him. That shouldn't be too difficult for them.
Lotan readied the lid of the box, and in one swift movement, opened the cage, placed it inside, and closed the lid. He draped the chain over the lid and set the shackles on either end to Levi's hands to secure them to each other. Connecting another chain to the center of the first, he brought it down and locked further cuffs around each of Levi's ankles. Finally, he pulled off his shoes, tucked his socks neatly into them, set them beside the box, and walked away.
He was nearly to the stairs when he heard the first screams.
Lotan let out a breath and walked away. A great pressure was gone from his chest. The bag he'd carefully packed that had at first pulled on his shoulder with its weight, now felt light. He didn't go back for the hook hanging near the pool. Instead, he made his way down the old access road behind the hotel and drove to the motel he'd chosen. He knew he wouldn't be seen coming back. By the time he got out of the hot shower, the morning was half over.
One more day.
He spent it cleaning the blood from the room and the inside of the stolen car he’d used. He ordered his favorite foods and watched TV. When night fell again, he took his bag and walked to a nearby convenience store. He drew his gun, pointed it at the man behind the cash register, then flicked his wrist and fired. The bullet buried itself in the advertising board behind the man now on his knees on the floor. It took only seconds to hear the sirens in the distance.
Five years.
In five years, he would walk free again, and there would be no trace.
