First Touch

by Teyla Branton

  “Sounds interesting,” Shannon said. “And not quite safe.”

  I shrugged, unwilling to debate my past with him. He might be starting to believe me, but he wasn’t my friend. “You should take me home,” I said. I’d driven in to work with Jake today, and he would have gone home by now. “I have to work in the morning.”

  “Okay.” Shannon started the car.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Your partner said you hadn’t been sleeping for days.”

  “Plenty of time for that after I find her.”

  “You can’t knock on people’s doors all night.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  I let him win this one.

  When we arrived at my apartment building, I jumped out of the car. “Let me know if you need me to read anything more.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” His formality was back.

  “And I’d like to know if you find her.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  I shut the door and watched him drive away, experiencing a sad bit of nostalgia for what might have been if we’d met under other circumstances. Less weird circumstances. He seemed man enough to get over my not wearing shoes and eating healthy food, but the hocus pocus stuff meant it was over before it even began. Probably a good thing, since that might interrupt my pining for Jake.

  As I unlocked the door to my building and went up the few inside steps to my main floor apartment, I thought about little Alice. Her fear and the slimy thoughts of the man who’d taken her stayed with me, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to sleep.

  That’s why when I opened my door and found Jake there watching TV on my Victorian couch, I nearly shouted in relief. He met me halfway across the room, and I threw myself into his arms.

  “That bad, huh?”

  I nodded and kept my face buried in his broad chest. He smelled wonderful, like aftershave and a mix of herbs from his shop. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t smell a little bit like Winter.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No. I want to eat whatever you brought that is smelling so good and to curl up in Summer’s afghan.” It was one of the few things I had of my mother that was strongly imbued with her love, and while I tried to use it sparingly in case the imprints would fade or be overwritten by my own, I knew it was going to bed with me tonight.

  Jake’s expression grew serious. He understood the importance of her afghan, and I knew it took a lot for him not to push me for details. Good thing it was him waiting here instead of my sister, whose vision of being twins didn’t include withholding anything for any reason.

  He led me to the couch before fishing my parent’s book of poetry from his bag. “I was hoping you wouldn’t need this, but I brought it from the shop just in case.”

  “Thank you.” I clutched it tightly, welcoming the flood of love from the past. This was one of the reasons he was my best friend, and why I wanted more.

  “By the way,” he added, “Tawnia called me and wanted you to call her back. Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  “I left it at the store.” Neither of them could understand why I wasn’t glued to my second-hand phone, but they’d stopped teasing me about it. “Text her that I’m fine and that I’ll call her tomorrow.” I didn’t want to call her from my home phone now or she’d hear in my voice that I’d had a rough day and insist on me recounting everything. I’d want to tell her the story eventually, but not tonight.

  “Okay, what do you want first, the pot pies from Smokeys, or the chicken wings from Salamander’s? I’ve got them in the oven staying warm.”

  “Pot pies,” I said. “And some of your chamomile tea.”

  “Already brewing. I’ll go get it.”

  I hugged him again before letting him go. I was lucky to have him, even if he never looked at me as more than a friend. An image of Shannon Martin popped into my head at the thought. Maybe I only liked guys that were unattainable.

  I ate my fill of pot pie and chicken wings before I drifted off to sleep during the movie Jake put on. But once Jake was gone and I was in bed, all sleep fled from me, replaced by the images from Alice’s imprint. Where was that little girl now?

  I held onto my parents’ book of poetry, pulled Summer’s afghan tighter around me, and willed that Shannon and the other officers would find the dead-eyed man from the imprint.

  Chapter 6

  The banging on my door started when it was still dark outside. I jolted from an uneasy sleep, cracking one eye to stare at the clock on the nightstand next to my bed. Whoever was banging, it had to be an emergency.

  More than one neighbor had awakened me before to ask for some herbal remedy, but less often now than when Winter was alive. He’d been the one with a real talent for herbs and could whip up a sleeping potion or a migraine remedy in less time than it took me to drag my tired body from bed.

  “All right, all right, I’m coming,” I muttered, though the anxious person behind the door wouldn’t be able to hear me. I opened the door without looking through the peep hole.

  Shannon stood there, appearing more grizzled than he had when he’d left a few hours earlier. “Don’t you even look to see who’s out here before you open it?” he said without preamble.

  “Don’t you know it’s barely four in the morning?”

  He raked a hand through his hair, and when he responded, it was as though he’d forgotten what we’d been saying. “I need your help.”

  “What happened?” Belatedly, I realized I was still wearing the clothes he’d dropped me off in, but then he was too, so we were even.

  “A neighbor identified your drawing of the perp, and we found the house he where he was living.”

  My heartbeat did a little skip. “You found her?”

  He nodded, but his face was grim, his eyes lost. I wanted to hug him.

  “She’s dead. Three days dead. They found her in one of the rooms on the property. Medical examiner says it looks like she died of chloroform overdose.”

  “No!” I clutched at the door.

  “Her body had been violated post mortem,” he added. “We believe the overdose was an accident.”

  The words from the slime ball’s imprint returned to me: It was easier than the last time. “He didn’t use chloroform the first time.”

  “That’s the thing. You were right about that too. There’s evidence of another child—a living child. A girl. But we don’t know how much time she’s been there or who it might be. Most of the forensic evidence won’t be back for days, even rushed.”

  So not what I’d expected given the television shows I watched. “Which means plenty of time for him to get away.”

  “We’ll get him,” Shannon said, his voice choked. “We know his name, Truman Grendel, and we’re tracking everything about him. But if he decides to dispose of the evidence . . .”

  He’d already killed one child, what was one more?

  “What can I do?”

  “Come back to the house with me. They’re still gathering evidence, but maybe you can find something we won’t have to wait for.”

  I searched his face, wondering if he was really asking for my help, or if he still suspected me and hoped I’d slip and lead him to the man. In the end, it really didn’t matter; the result might be the same.

  “Okay.” Grabbing my jacket and bag, I left with him.

  His car was parked illegally in front of my building instead of in the parking lot on the other side. Blue and red lights flashed from his grille and across the front dashboard.

  As Shannon started the car, I asked, “Do you have photos of the other missing children?”

  “Yeah, they’re on a website. Why?”

  “If I see a child, it’ll probably be through his eyes.”

  “Right.” He took out his phone and brought up the first picture. “Could be any of them really.” He handed it to me.

  That creep was gonna pay and pay big. If it was the last thing I ever did, I was going to find and kill that sick, perv
erted, son-of-a—

  I dropped the phone into my lap, fished out a pair of thin gloves from my bag, and picked back up the phone. I had already worked up enough emotion without experiencing Shannon’s imprints. I didn’t blame him, though.

  Shannon winced. “That bad, huh?” For a moment he sounded exactly like Jake.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you scroll with those gloves?”

  “My friend gave me conductive thread to sew into the fingers.”

  “Smart.”

  “That would be Jake.”

  “Guy with the dreadlocks?”

  “Locs,” I corrected.

  Nodding absently, Shannon squealed from the curb, his siren blaring.

  I gingerly swiped through the pictures. In each face I saw little Alice as she’d been in the photograph from Shannon’s pen imprint—her shy smile, flyaway hair, and blue eyes. It took me a while to get her image from my mind so I could focus on the details of the other missing children. Hard to believe that each of these represented destroyed lives, not just of the child but also those of each family.

  “Is there anything that will remove imprints?” Shannon asked. “I have alcohol swabs.”

  “I haven’t found anything that gets rid of them or lessens them except time. Or maybe successive imprints. I’ve found imprints well over a century old. The newest ones are always first and the most vivid.”

  “Too bad.”

  “In this case, it’s good for the other child.” I hesitated before asking, “Have you told the Craigwells about their daughter?”

  “Not yet. It won’t be me this time. My partner went with someone.” Guilt tinged his voice.

  “Well, I’m glad you came to get me instead.”

  “I had no choice. I may not believe in what you do, but you gave us the first break we’ve had on the case.”

  At least he was honest. I went back to studying the pictures.

  When I returned his phone sometime later, Shannon said, “Neighbors never saw a child. And apparently, this guy Grendel works for an online marketing firm. He does all his work remotely. On the side, he remodels houses. He contracts with the owners to live in them for six months or so while he refurbishes them for the cost of the materials and free rent. We don’t know much else at this point, but by the time we’re finished with him, we’ll know everything, including his movie choices and what he eats for dinner. But it’ll take time.”

  Which we didn’t have.

  “He left the car at the house,” Shannon added. “Which was smart now that we’ve identified it. Must have had another vehicle. Maybe something large enough to tow the car when he moves from place to place.”

  When we arrived at the house, it was ringed with police cars and personnel. The medical examiner emerged from the house with a gurney supporting a tiny form wrapped in a bag. Again, I recalled the fear poor little Alice had endured. The only comfort, if it was any at all, was that nothing would ever hurt her again. Regardless of what her kidnapper had intended, she’d been saved from his plans.

  The officer guarding the entrance recognized Shannon and let him through without looking at his badge. The house looked new inside, which meant Grendel had probably been here awhile. New paint, new carpet, only a few furnishings. One of these was a cheap desk with various black cast-iron organizers that were empty. “Looks like he took all his papers,” I said.

  “He didn’t clear out much more than this desk, which must have held his computer. All the food and dishes and clothing—most everything else still appears to be here. They’ve been bagging and tagging and taking fingerprints for hours. I was hoping to find some idea of where he was heading, but so far we’ve come up dry.”

  I touched one of the organizers and found a brief imprint: Idiot cops. Just when I was about finished with this place. Well, I’ve always been one step ahead. Calm. Calm. I dumped all the papers into the box holding the laptop.

  I checked the other organizers and found more of the same: Ignore the mess. I can organize it again. Just take the most necessary. Don’t worry about fingerprints. They’ll know who I am now. But plan B will take care of that. I have enough money, so it won’t be a problem.

  “These imprints are from after six o’clock last night,” I said.

  “That would mean he left after we released the drawing you gave us. He must have seen it on the news.”

  “Probably. He’s a neat freak, and he hated throwing all his papers into the same box. But he’s confident he’ll be able to stay ahead of you. He has money stashed somewhere.”

  Shannon snagged a passing man I didn’t recognize. “I know you guys have a lot of things you’re taking to test, but anything you’ve cleared, can you give it to us?”

  “Sure, this desk is finished, and we’ve cleared the furniture. There’s more stuff in the room where we found the girl.”

  I began making the rounds, touching things but finding only ordinary imprints that didn’t stand out in any way. By the time we reached the room where they’d found Alice, Shannon was beginning to show signs of frustration.

  “Furniture and clothing,” I said. “And dishes. No one cares much about dishes. He must have taken anything that was important to him. I need something more.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He left me near the bed that was stripped of coverings, which had apparently been taken by the forensic team.

  A glint of something caught my eye in the mound of clothing that was heaped by the bed, the items somehow not deemed important enough to move to the lab. It was a large shank button, at least an inch across, with a glossy tiger’s eye pattern. I knelt down and picked it up, rubbing my thumb across the rounded surface.

  I walked on whisper feet into the room, clutching my button in my fist. Poor little girl. She looked like an angel, so peaceful. She would have made a nice little sister. But it was better this way, so he wouldn’t hurt her.

  I touched her hand with a single finger. So cold.

  “I wish it was me,” I whispered.

  The door opened. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Nothing.” I closed my hand tightly over the button. I had to be careful not to look into his eyes.

  He stepped forward and yanked up my chin. He jabbed a finger at the still little girl. “This is what happens when you don’t obey. Remember that.”

  My body began shaking all over. I couldn’t help the tear that rolled down my cheek. Did he kill her because of me? Is that what he meant? What did I do?

  “Go clean yourself up.” He wrinkled his nose. “You’re disgusting.”

  He was wrong. I bathed this morning when he locked me in the bathroom, right after he brought the still, still girl. He was so angry and had been in there alone with her for a long time. At least that meant he left me alone. He hated to be around me now, and I was glad, but also afraid of what that might mean.

  I ran from the room, sliding the hand with my button into my pocket. It was all I had from before, and I had to make sure he didn’t see it.

  I set the button on the carpet as Shannon returned with a bag of items, and I quickly motioned to him. “I need to see the pictures of the missing kids again.”

  He knelt next to me and turned on his phone. He started to hand it over, but I shook my head. “You scroll through them.”

  He started scrolling, and when I saw what I was looking for, I stopped him. “There. Trina Ball. She went missing last year when she was eleven. Last seen wearing off-white jeans and a brown sweater with large tiger eye buttons.” I pointed at the button on the carpet. “A girl imprinted on that button three days ago. It was all she had from before, which I assume means before she was taken.”

  “Three days ago she was alive. You’re sure it’s her?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t seen her face. Just felt what she did. She saw Alice. She wished it was her.”

  Shannon’s jaw clenched. “Try these.” He handed me the plastic bag. “They don’t seem to have fingerprints that can be used, but t
hey’ll be tested for other things if needed, so maybe try to limit exposure.”

  Not asking if he’d taken the items with permission, I put my hand into the bag. I could feel buzzing imprints coming from a least one object. I rested a finger on the tip of a pen, followed by a business card, and a package of shoelaces. Nothing but a feeling of hurry from the pen. A pair of reading glasses, a bottle of pain killers, and a small notebook also brought no new clues. Next was the remote.

  Stupid big oaf of a girl. An image of the child came to mind. No. Not a child. Practically a woman. Her fault all of this. If she hadn’t been growing so fast, I wouldn’t need another one. It should have been all taken care of with the new girl, but she was unworthy after all. Fragile. Not the miracle I’d first expected when she’d suddenly appeared in my path. That was what I got for deviating from my plans. Well, after I watched a little something to stem my frustration, I’d decide which of the others would take that big oaf’s place.

  I smiled, thinking of the folder in the car with all the lovely photos of the lucky girls. Of course, I already knew which one. It should have been her and not the fragile girl in the first place.

  At least the chloroform wasn’t a complete waste. I knew how I could test it to make sure I got it right for the next time.

  Earlier similar imprints followed, where he was upset or angry, blaming it all on “the big oaf” who was definitely Trina Ball and who, at least in Grendel’s eyes, did look drastically older than in her “aged” photograph.

  “Trina’s too old. He wants another girl,” I told Shannon, feeling sick to my stomach. “He kept a folder of pictures in his car. Girls he’s been watching—did they find anything like that?”

  “They haven’t started on the car, besides clearing it of anything obvious. But like you said, the guy is a neat freak and there wasn’t much there.”

  “He kept it under his seat in a sort of makeshift shelf. You have to push it in before it will open.” Enough pride had gone into thought of the folder’s hiding place that he’d probably installed it himself.

  “It’s worth a try.” Shannon was in motion before he’d finished talking. I swept up the button and followed, pocketing it before the entire imprint could replay.