by Ballan, Greg
He considered her story and analyzed it quickly: a young girl abducted amongst other children, darkness in place of the daylight, and a sudden drop in temperature. The whole story seemed more a like a bad fairy tale than an abduction. Erik knew that nobody simply vanished; the police were smarter than that. He knew, as they did, if she had not received a message from the girl's kidnappers by now, there would most likely be no message. It did not bode well. There was something about the necklace though. He felt an eerie buzzing in the back of his head.
“May I see your daughter's necklace?” he asked.
She handed him the plastic bag that contained the necklace. Erik studied it carefully: A fourteen-karat gold chain with a large heart-shaped locket. As he opened the bag, a chill went up his arms and down his spine; he caught the scent of something foul. He emptied the contents of the necklace into his hand, and let the jewelry sit in his palms. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on edge as he held the gold chain. Erik struggled to maintain his composure as he carefully slipped the item back into the plastic bag.
“Mrs. Reynolds, may I borrow this for a few days? An associate of mine may be able to provide some further insight. Perhaps she and I can uncover something that was missed, assuming you want me to work for you.”
She looked at him, as if trying to read his own body language. “You know something, don't you?”
“No, ma'am,” he lied convincingly. “I know nothing for certain—a wild theory, maybe, or half-baked assumption. Can you meet me here in two days? I need to do some research.”
“Well, that's more than the police have done,” she replied. “I'll see you Tuesday afternoon, and thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Erik watched her as she left. “Don't thank me just yet,” he mumbled.
From what he could gather, she was telling the truth; her body language and facial motif were all normal. He needed to start at the beginning, and that would be with the Hopedale Police Department.
He looked at the necklace again, and the feeling of dread ran through his body. He knew there was something terribly wrong. He focused intently and detected an overwhelming sense of terror, and something else, something extremely malevolent and alien.
He had had these types of intuitions before, usually warning him of some unforeseen danger or threat. Erik never liked to discuss, or even acknowledge, the latent abilities he seemed to possess. As far back as he could remember these intuitive abilities had always been present. It was not only the telepathy, it was an uncanny ability to sense weather changes, deal with animals or be in tune with almost anything related to nature.
Erik somehow felt more a part of the Earth than the people around him. He was more at home in the wild, almost like some modern day mountain man. He could disappear into the wilderness for weeks at a time and live comfortably off the land, existing on native roots and berries and sleeping under the stars. He was never comfortable cooped up in an office; he liked to be out in the open, free. He knew that it was this ability that had caused him to seek his own independent path, and cost him his marriage.
* * * *
It was early Monday morning when Erik walked into Veronica's Coffee Shop and sat at one of the stools near the counter. He ordered a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. Veronica's was right next to the Hopedale Police Department; the establishment was a frequent haunt for both on and off-duty police officers.
Erik had worked with the Hopedale Police on a few prior occasions, and he kept them well-informed of any cases he was working that may directly impact the town. He knew that officers ending the graveyard shift always stopped here before heading home. Erik was hoping that he could find his friend Steve. Steve was a seasoned officer whom Erik had given a narcotics lead to a few years back. His tip led to the arrest of several men operating a heroin distribution center less than a half-mile from the precinct.
As if on cue, Steve walked in, spotted the detective, and sat down in the nearest stool, motioning to the waitress for coffee. Steve Forrest had nearly twenty years experience in law enforcement.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Steve started in a humorous tone. “What's the matter? Did they run out of coffee at Madame's?”
“Nah, I was just lonesome for your ugly mug,” Erik retorted as he motioned for the waitress. “Actually, Steve, this is a professional courtesy call. Does the name Lisa Reynolds mean anything to you?”
“Yeah, she's down as a missing person, last seen at the park; we have two officers investigating it. Could be a runaway.” He paused momentarily. “I think it was two or three days ago. I didn't take the report or work the case, so I'm a little foggy on the exact details, some wild story about ghosts and darkness though. Why do you ask?”
Erik reached inside his leather jacket and produced the necklace inside the plastic bag. “I've been hired to find out information regarding her disappearance. The word kidnapping keeps popping up in my head. I know that there has been no contact with the Reynolds girl in three days since her disappearance. That can only mean one of three things: abduction, runaway, or kidnapping.” Erik paused as both men took a swig of their coffee.
He continued. “I think we can rule out kidnapping since there has been no contact with the family, she was with a group of friends when she disappeared, and this was left behind. I think it's safe to assume she didn't run away. What does that leave us with, Steve?” Erik slid the necklace toward him on the counter.
Steve grew apprehensive. Erik saw the telltale changes in his body language. He had adopted a closed, protective posture—arms folded, slightly slouched. Steve kept his eyes turned down as he considered the words that Erik had just said. He looked up and slid the necklace back toward Erik.
“I agree,” Steve whispered softly, “but we have nothing to go on, no leads. The kids didn't see much of anything, and what they said they saw didn't make sense.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“They said it got dark, as dark as the middle of the night, as if somebody turned out the sun. They said it got extremely cold, and that they were scared. Each kid said the exact same thing. What the hell are we supposed to make of that?” Steve sipped the steaming beverage in front of him. “And there were only a few adults present for us to question. It's like this girl just vanished off the face of the Earth. I know it sounds bizarre, but go look for yourself. There are no specific prints to work from; the crime scene had been corrupted by dozens of other kids before anyone noticed that she was missing.
“This,” he added, pointing to the necklace, “doesn't give us much to work with. There were no prints on the locket, and nothing on the chain. No blood, no nothing.” He replaced his coffee mug on the counter.
“We both know a child doesn't just vanish into thin air; somebody must have seen something. I just can't believe that a kid could be abducted in broad daylight, in the middle of a park full of children with no one—not a single soul—seeing anything,” Erik stated emphatically. “It just doesn't make sense.”
“I know that; all of us know that. I'm telling you, we couldn't find a thing; all we can do is wait, continue to question children who were at the park, and hope that someone does call with a ransom note. Otherwise.... “Steve paused, not wanting to complete his sentence.
“Yeah.” Erik sighed heavily. “And otherwise spells bad news for the Reynolds.”
“On that we agree, my friend.” Steve drained his coffee cup. “Look, I gotta get home and get some shut-eye; Debbie and I are supposed to be taking the kids to the movies later on. If you do, by some chance, find something, fill us in. We really need to be in the loop on this one.” Steve reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
“Don't,” Erik said. “This one's on me.”
“Thanks, I owe you one.”
Erik watched his associate climb into his car and drive off. Mrs. Reynolds was right: The police were genuinely baffled. Erik looked down at the necklace and again got that strange tingling at the back of his neck. He kne
w there was some connection, some element that he was not seeing in this entire puzzle. He had already determined his next course of action. He paid his tab and made his way back out to the street.
Erik suddenly knew he was being watched. He could almost feel the eyes following his motion. Erik tried to casually look behind him, but he knew any look back would be obvious. He made his way to his pickup, fired the engine, and made his way toward I-495. He noticed a black sedan had driven behind him for nearly three miles.
“Well now,” he muttered to himself. “It appears I've got myself a tail.”
He made his way through the small suburb, being sure to take several back roads in his route to the interstate. As he had expected, the sedan was still back there, but keeping a respectable distance. Erik knew the road he was on, and he waited until he finished navigating a large turn and gunned his truck, the vehicle shuddered and leapt with acceleration. He knew that the sedan would not realize what he had done until it completed its turn around the last bend in the road.
Erik spotted what he was looking for, the Amato Farms dirt access road. With a loud screeching of rubber, he took the sharp turn and hid his truck behind the tall stalks of corn. He watched with great delight as the black sedan sped by seconds later. He backed up his truck and pulled back onto the road. It was his turn to pursue.
He knew that he had to catch the car before it made the intersection. He spotted the sedan behind four other cars at the stop sign where the road ended. He stopped his truck a good fifty yards behind the sedan. Erik took binoculars from his glove compartment and looked through them at the sedan's license plate. He said the numbers out loud to himself as he grabbed a pencil and scrap of paper. After writing the plate number down, he pulled up behind the traffic that had accumulated behind the sedan as it made a right turn into traffic.
Erik waited his turn and then followed the car onto the highway, and for nearly fifteen minutes shadowed the other vehicle. The driver of the sedan suddenly realized that he was being pursued and accelerated. Erik could hear the loud roar from the sedan's engine as it took off like a rocket. He knew instantly that his truck was no match for the car. He had gotten what he needed; he'd run the plate through his database when he returned to his office. Though in the back of his mind, he knew who was responsible for the tail.
“You need to find more competent help, Richard. That's the fourth one this month,” he whispered.
Richard Pendelton always liked to keep tabs on Erik, hoping to catch him in some shady underhanded business. Erik knew Pendelton thought that he was lowbrow, but he couldn't recall anything that would make Richard consider him crooked or even a threat.
The fact that the wealthy industrialist nearly destroyed him with minimal effort during his divorce should have satisfied the rich businessman. Richard knew everything about him, with the possible exceptions of his dealings with a certain law firm in Boston. Erik knew, by reputation alone, that nobody was stupid enough to meddle in Martin Denton's business affairs.
He pulled into a small shopping plaza in Shrewsbury. Erik parked his truck and headed into the Newbury Comics store. Instantly he felt out of place. This was a store for teenagers on the cutting edge of punk. Spiked hair, pierced noses, and multicolored hair surrounded him, as well as girls with black lipstick and other gothic attire.
Erik approached an older woman who had on tight leather pants and a black, shiny leather vest. Her black hair had streaks of purple and light pink. She looked astonishingly beautiful, despite the unusual attire. Erik noticed she had pierced her nose since the last time he'd seen her. He felt an unusual spark of electricity run through him, as it always did whenever he was near her. Somehow he was drawn to her, pulled like metal to a magnet.
“I like the look,” Erik commented.
The woman looked up and broke out into a huge smile when she spotted him. “Erik Knight, as I live and breathe. What brings Mr. Work Boots and Blue Jeans into this neck of the woods.”
“What always brings me here, Shanda, your beautiful décor and charming clientele,” Erik remarked lightly as he stared at some of the more bizarre patrons.
Shanda laughed as she approached him and gave him a friendly hug. She was in her early thirties, like Erik. But unlike Erik, she took a lighter view of life and enjoyed associating with the cutting edge, while it made him uncomfortable. Despite this, Erik liked her a lot and they had dated on several occasions over the past years. Erik still felt a strong physical and emotional attraction to her, and she still carried a torch for him.
“I need you to examine something for me,” Erik whispered. “I can't hold it without getting the creeps.”
Shanda looked around her store and instructed a clerk to cover for a few minutes. Erik followed her into a back room up a flight of stairs. Shanda sat down on a large black chair. Next to the chair was a large crystal ball similar to what children see at carnivals. Only this was a real Seer's crystal, not some cheap glass replica.
“Okay, let's see it.”
Erik reached inside his jacket pocket and handed her the plastic bag. As soon as she touched it she exhaled sharply.
“Oh, God, what is that awful smell?” Her hands were trembling as she took the necklace from the plastic bag and placed it gently into her hands. Shanda's eyes became glassy, as if she were seeing something that he could not. She whispered something in a language that Erik instinctively understood, but rarely, if ever, used.
“She's frightened. She sees it; she's wondering why no one else can. She sees it coming out of the black,” Shanda whispered. Her eyes were focused someplace else.
“He's walking right by her playmates and all the other children. She's running, hiding. There's darkness everywhere.” Tears streamed down Shanda's face.
“Oh, God!” she screamed. “All I can feel is absolute terror, the dark.” She paused and threw the necklace back at him.
“That's enough; I can't take anymore.” She struggled to compose herself. Shanda looked at him through tear-streaked eyes. “Where in the world did you get that?”
“It belongs to a little girl who's been missing for three days. She was kidnapped from a park in Hopedale. The necklace was found behind the park bathroom.” Erik walked over to Shanda and put his hands on her shoulders. “What did you sense, exactly?”
“Fear,” she answered. “In layman's terms, absolute fear. Whoever took her terrified the crap out of her.”
“Did you sense anything else?” Erik pushed.
“No, just fear, and that awful smell when you first opened the bag, kinda like sulfur. But why are you asking me? You know you can do this yourself. You have the gift, too. I don't see why you simply won't use it,” she said forcefully.
“I prefer to deal with the natural, Shanda. This kind of thing is more your cup of tea,” Erik answered. “And right now, I need answers, not more questions,” Erik retorted moodily. Shanda always brought up his abilities. “I have to meet with this little girl's mother in a few days and I want to have at least some kind of definitive lead for her regarding her daughter's whereabouts.”
Erik tucked the necklace into his inside jacket pocket. He looked at her more softly this time. “This little girl is only a few years younger than my own daughter. Her mother feels absolutely helpless and the police can't do anything for her.” He paused, looking away. “She needs help, and I don't want to fail her as well,” he whispered quietly as he looked away.
She reached over and gently put her arms on him, allowing her hands to touch his powerful chest and arms. “Erik, if anyone can pull a rabbit out of the hat, it's you. If there's something to find, I know that you'll find it.”
He looked down into her face and smiled. Shanda always seemed to know the right words to say to make someone feel better. “For her sake, I hope you're right. Because right now things look very bleak for that little girl.”
Erik made his way back to his apartment. He'd been carefully watching for the black sedan, or any other car that followed too close,
but his ride home proved to be uneventful. He pulled into Madame's parking lot and drove to the back of the building where his small apartment was located.
He glanced at his wristwatch as he opened his apartment door; he decided that he could spend some time at the Hopedale Park. Steve had claimed that there was nothing there, but Erik needed to see for himself. Somebody had to have missed something. He figured that he could grab a quick bowl of soup, help clean up after the lunch crowd, and be at the park by 2:00. He could look around for at least four hours before having to head back.
* * * *
Carol Carlin enjoyed running in the Hopedale Town Forest. The maze of trails offered a variety of courses and challenges for her. Her objective today was to break a nine-minute mile. She knew she would never be a world-class runner, but loved running for the sake of the exercise and a chance to get away from the humdrum of daily living.
As she progressed deeper into the forest, she had the feeling that she was being watched. Carol looked over her shoulder, but saw nothing. She picked up her pace along the winding trail.
She continued for another fifteen minutes, still with the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her. Carol turned to look over her shoulder again, causing her to miss seeing the divot in the path. She stepped into the depression and fell heavily on her shoulder. A sharp pain shot through her leg, and knew immediately that she had sprained her ankle.
“Damn!” she cursed aloud as her ankle throbbed with pain.
She crawled over to the edge of the path and untied her shoe. Her ankle was already swelling; she realized there was a good chance that she had broken her ankle. She knew that she was too deep in the forest to make it out without help. Her best chance of connecting with somebody would be to make it to a well-used walking trail.
She struggled to stand, leaning heavily against a tree she was near. She took one step forward on her good leg, and then dragged her bad leg behind her. Every motion sent a searing wave of agony through her body. She felt the perspiration rolling down her head as she struggled to endure the pain. As she took her fourth step, her leg gave out and she collapsed on the trail. Carol screamed out in agony as more pain rocketed through her body. She stood again and tried hopping on her good leg, but after fifty yards her other leg cramped up.
