Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

  “I know. That’s why I’m here.” Emma gestured with the shovel at the hole she’d dug in front of Louise’s grave. “I have to get a sample of DNA to test. Then I’ll know for sure if it’s really her in there or not.”

  “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you’d finally gone around the bend.” The ghost shook his head. “Sounds like the kind of asinine situation that would befall you. Can’t ever seem to stay out of trouble. All this time travel, parallel worlds, space aliens, and getting knocked up to boot—with your luck the little bugger will probably turn out to be a vampire.”

  Emma laughed at this. It did seem since she’d put on the Scarlet Knight’s armor all sorts of bizarre things had happened to her—and her friends for that matter. Louise possibly being switched at birth wasn’t even the strangest one. “Well, at least you’ll have plenty of stories for the next Scarlet Knight.”

  “After you, I’m sure the next one will be a breeze.” Marlin shook his head again. “Just try not to get caught out here. The police might not be so sympathetic.”

  “I won’t. Thank you for understanding.”

  “Yes, well, maybe I’m going soft in the head too.” The ghost nodded to her and then drifted out of the graveyard.

  Emma waited until she was sure Marlin had gone before she continued to dig up the grave. Her helmet had a rebreather in it that would have kept some of the dust out of her lungs, but she didn’t want to put it on. She knew if she did the other personality that she’d created since Louise’s death would take over and Emma couldn’t be sure what that side of her would do. The Scarlet Knight didn’t really care about Louise, not like Emma Earl did; the Scarlet Knight wasn’t a mother.

  At last she struck the lid of the tiny white coffin Becky had picked out. It was the first time Emma had ever seen it, as they had not let her out of the psych ward to attend her own daughter’s funeral. She couldn’t really blame the hospital, not after she’d nearly killed Dr. Pavelski and two orderlies. She was actually lucky none of the three had decided to press criminal charges against her or she might have spent the last two years in prison.

  With the scarlet armor on, it didn’t take long to clear away the dirt and then lift the coffin from the ground. Emma paused a moment and leaned against the shovel as she tried to work up the strength to peek inside. She took a deep breath and then held it as she opened the lid.

  There wasn’t much left of the child inside. Mostly there was the skeleton, a skeleton that looked more like an alien’s with the head disproportionately larger. The flesh and blood had all disintegrated to leave nothing that could be tested. She used a flashlight taken from the caretaker’s shed to search for hairs and located a few to tuck into a pouch on her belt. This might not provide enough evidence, nor for that matter could she be sure the hairs belonged to the child in the coffin and not a mortician or mourner.

  There was only one way to make absolutely sure. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before she snapped off the child’s tiny right arm. This she took down to her motorcycle and put in the storage compartment along with the duct tape and other supplies she’d used earlier that night.

  Then she returned to the grave. She patted the skull of the baby inside and promised herself that if this wasn’t Louise, she’d find out who the child belonged to so that girl’s mother could properly grieve for her daughter.

  Emma closed the lid and then set to work.

  ***

  When Dr. Laura Pavelski heard the commotion in the waiting room, she reached into her drawer. Not for a gun, a tube of mace, or even a phone to call the police. She reached into the drawer for the bottle of Jack Daniels she’d concealed beneath some old papers. She took a long pull from this, sealed the bottle, and tossed it into the drawer before the door opened.

  It didn’t really come as a surprise to see Dr. Emma Earl in the doorway. What came as a surprise was to see the woman’s white hair. She’d heard that after the shock of losing her baby Emma’s hair had gone white, but she’d never seen it for herself. She wished she could reach into the drawer for her bottle to take another pull.

  Before Emma could speak, Dr. Pavelski’s secretary bustled into the room. “Doctor, are you all right? Should I call—?”

  “I’m fine,” Dr. Pavelski said, her voice hoarse. “There’s no need to call anyone.”

  Her secretary stared at her for a moment, but finally nodded and backed out of the room. “You’re not going to try strangling me again, are you?” Dr. Pavelski asked. She tried to look casual as she leaned back against the wall, as far from Emma as she could get. She relaxed slightly as Emma dropped into a chair across from the desk.

  “No, of course not,” Emma said. Her hair might be different, but her voice was still the same, so soft that Dr. Pavelski thought she must have been dreaming to think a woman like this could nearly strangle her to death, not to mention incapacitate two orderlies. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s all right,” Dr. Pavelski said. It wasn’t all right, not really. Emma had nearly killed her two year ago. By all rights Dr. Pavelski should be terrified of her. But she wasn’t, which came as a surprise. She felt sad more than anything. Sad not only for Emma’s loss, but also for her inability to save little Louise. That failure more than the near-death experience had driven her to hide a bottle in her desk. She had lost patients before, but Emma had become like a friend to her. When she’d lost Louise, Dr. Pavelski had felt she’d lost a member of her own family. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine,” Emma said, but her haggard face told a different story. “I need your help, Laura. I know I don’t deserve it after what happened, but you’re the only one I can go to with this.”

  “I thought Dr. Richman was helping you.”

  “He is, but this is different.” When Emma looked down at her feet, Dr. Pavelski saw again the shy young woman who had come to her for a pregnancy test and then for prenatal care. “I need to know what you know about one of the nurses who might have been in the maternity ward that night. A Martina Tyutin.”

  “Martina Tyutin? I don’t think I know her.”

  Emma reached into her pocket to hold up a printout of a chubby young woman with black hair and a diagonal scar that bisected her left eyebrow. “Did you see her in the maternity ward that night? After Louise was taken there?”

  Dr. Pavelski stared at the picture for a moment and then closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Emma. There was so much going on—” she stopped as her memory finally kicked in. While she had tried to breathe life back into Louise, a woman who looked like the one in the photograph had stood off to one side, both hands over her mouth. “Yes, she was there. At least at the end. You could probably check the hospital records—”

  “I did. She was working that night. I wanted to make sure it was actually her and not someone using her name.”

  “Emma, what’s going on? What do you think this nurse did?”

  “She switched Louise with another baby, one who looked enough like Louise that no one noticed the difference. She probably gave her some kind of poison to make sure she died before I could see her and know the truth.”

  “What? That’s impossible. We have security measures—”

  “I cracked your computer system in forty-five seconds.” Emma leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I know she had the help of some very bad people. The type of people who know their way around security systems.”

  “Have you talked to her about any of this?”

  “I can’t. She died two months after it happened. A mugging gone bad—supposedly.”

  “Come on, Emma. This is crazy.” Dr. Pavelski resisted the urge to reach into her drawer for some liquid courage. “I know today would have been Louise’s birthday and you’re feeling sad about what happened, but all this stuff about switching babies sounds like a paranoid delusion.”

  Emma reached into her pocket for another picture, one of a baby with curly red hair and very familiar blue eyes—her mother’s eyes. “This was take
n a few weeks ago—or so she said.”

  “Who?”

  “My friend. She worked with the people who took Louise. She’s in Russia. My little girl is in Russia, being raised by a gangster.”

  “Emma—”

  “I know, you think I’m paranoid.” Emma held up a newspaper. Beneath the headline story about Don Vendetta’s capture was a smaller story about a woman being gunned down in a diner early this morning. “They killed her as she was trying to tell me what happened.”

  “Who killed her?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t see them. Probably people working for Bykov.”

  “Bykov?”

  “That’s his name. Sergei Bykov. Google it and you’ll find him tied into just about everything in Russia: real estate, oil fields, mines, and even the military. He’s a very bad man and he has my daughter. Do you understand?”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “That’s another reason I came to you. I have to make sure that this girl really is Louise and not someone made up to look like her.” Emma reached into a paper bag and took out what appeared to be a skeletal human arm.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes.”

  Dr. Pavelski was glad it was only nine in the morning and she hadn’t eaten anything yet, though the Jack Daniels burned her throat again before she could get it back down. She lowered her voice to make sure no one else heard her as she asked, “You took that from Louise’s grave?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus Christ, Emma, that’s sick.”

  “I have to be sure it’s really her in that grave. I need a DNA test. Today.”

  “Today? Are you kidding?”

  “No.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No it’s not, just really difficult.” Emma sighed. “If you don’t want to help, I’ll understand. I can do it myself at the museum. I thought it might be better if someone objective looked at it.” She stopped again and time ran a hand through her white hair. “I don’t know if I can trust myself. I might want it to be her so badly that I make a mistake with the results.”

  Dr. Pavelski knew she should say no. She should say she wasn’t about to risk her career for a woman who had nearly killed her. But when she looked at Emma’s tired, frantic face and white hair, she knew she couldn’t. If there was any chance Louise was still alive, she owed it to Emma—and herself—to find out. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you, Laura.” Emma left the arm on the desk but took the pictures of Tyutin and the little girl to stuff these back into her pocket. Dr. Pavelski waited until Emma had gone to reach into her drawer for the Jack Daniels. She dropped this into the trash. Then she stood to get back to work.

  ***

  The receptionist at Dr. Richman’s office didn’t react as negatively as Dr. Pavelski’s. She nodded as Emma stepped off the elevator. “Dr. Richman is expecting you,” the receptionist said.

  “He is? My appointment isn’t for today.”

  “Just a hunch, I guess.”

  Emma thought to ask more about this, but decided against it. She opened the door to Richman’s office to find the chair already turned to face the window. The doctor sat in his chair and scribbled some notes to himself. “Good morning, Dr. Earl. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of moving the chair for you.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  He waited until she’d sat down to ask, “Did you visit Louise this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “About how sorry I am that she died.”

  “Do you blame yourself for her death?”

  “Yes, but she might not be dead.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “A woman came to me—a friend of mine. She told me Louise was switched with another baby, that she’s really alive in Russia.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I want to believe it, at least I think I do.”

  “Why wouldn’t you want Louise to be alive?”

  Emma leaned forward in the chair and buried both hands in her hair. “I know I haven’t really gotten over her dying, but I’ve accepted it. If she’s alive, I could lose her again. I’m not sure I could take that.”

  “What do you think you would do if you lost Louise again?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’d jump out a window.” She stood up to turn the chair back around to face Dr. Richman. The psychologist showed no reaction to this. For the first time, she gathered the courage to look him in the eye. “I’m afraid to find her.”

  The doctor made no move to try to comfort her. “What are you afraid of, Emma?”

  “That she’ll hate me. That she’ll think I abandoned her.”

  “Why do you think she would think that?”

  “Because I wasn’t there for her. Her first steps. Her first words. I wasn’t there.” She reached into her pocket again for the picture Markova had given her. Ever since she’d dug up Louise’s grave, she’d had terrible visions of meeting her daughter only for Louise not to recognize her, for those beautiful eyes to look at her like a stranger. “I know I can’t leave her with this man, but I’m afraid of what will happen if I go there. What do I do?”

  Dr. Richman considered this for a moment. Emma waited for him to ask her more questions, to force her to reveal more of her deeply-guarded secrets. Instead, he said, “I think from what you’ve said that you love your daughter very much. When you find her, I think you need to communicate that very clearly to her.”

  “Don’t you think she might be scarred by this? Emotionally?”

  “Perhaps. Children are very resilient, though.” The doctor scribbled something down on a prescription pad. It wasn’t a prescription, it was a name: Dr. Lorena Nagel. “She specializes in child psychology. If you find Louise and bring her home, give her a call.”

  “I will. Thank you, Doctor.”

  She had her hand on the doorknob when Dr. Richman said, “Good luck, Emma.”

  “Thank you,” she said again. She would need all the luck she could get.

  Chapter 7

  Though she knew no one expected her to work today, Emma went back to the Plaine Museum North to get things in order. Leslie looked at her with concern as she came in and Emma supposed she must look like a mess with her wild hair, bloodshot eyes, and dusty clothes. She probably smelled even worse; she hadn’t had time to shower since she’d left Dr. Richman’s office. She was grateful there had been no classes in the museum this morning or they might have thought she was an exhibit—a primitive witch doctor.

  “I told Jenny you weren’t going to be in today,” Leslie said, referring to Emma’s assistant director.

  “That’s fine. I’m going to catch up on a few things.”

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Dr. Earl?”

  “It’s been a hectic morning.”

  Leslie continued to look at her with concern, but in the end Emma was the boss and could do as she pleased. “I left your messages on your desk.”

  “Thank you.” Emma sorted through these and found most to be obnoxious donors who wanted attention; she could have Leslie pass these along to Jenny. The other messages pertained to the upcoming audit of the museum. This audit should go smoother than the last one, where she had worked around the clock for weeks to prove to the auditors she wasn’t corrupt like her predecessor.

  Beyond that she found her Email box full of minor fires in need of snuffing out. The geology department wanted more space for a display of volcanic rocks while anthropology wanted the room for an exhibit of samurai artifacts. As a geologist Emma wanted to side with the geology department, but as an administrator she knew rocks never brought in patrons quite like ancient weapons. And selfishly she wanted to take a look at the samurai items to compare with her armor and the Sword of Justice, which had been made in Japan at nearly the same time.

  After she answered the Emails, she went over the budget reports
on her desk to make sure everything was in line for the audit. Her eyes grew heavy as she read the reports. She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until her BlackBerry rang. She looked up and saw it was already three o’clock. She found a turkey sandwich and cup of tea beside the BlackBerry; Leslie must have left it for her while she slept.

  She picked up the smart phone; her heart began to race when she recognized Dr. Pavelski’s number. “You have something?” she asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “This is really preliminary, so don’t get too excited.”

  It was too late as Emma already felt a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “What is it?”

  “I talked to some friends of mine at the lab and they say the sample you took from the grave doesn’t match your DNA.”

  Emma stared at the display for a moment, not sure if she should cheer or groan. If the child in the coffin wasn’t Louise then that meant Markova had probably told the truth. Bykov had Louise in Russia to raise as his daughter. “You’re sure?”

  “Well like I said, it’s preliminary. There’s a chance they could find a match.”

  “You really think that?”

  “I don’t know what to think. This whole thing is crazy.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to find her.”

  “Good luck. I hope you do.”

  “Thanks for all of your help, Laura. I know I can’t repay you—”

  “You just bring that girl home safely. That’s all the thanks I need.”

  Emma was already heading for the door as she said goodbye to Dr. Pavelski. She turned back to grab the messages she hadn’t dealt with. These she pressed into Leslie’s hands. “Can you have Jenny take care of these? I have to leave early today. I’m not feeling well.”

  “Of course, Dr. Earl. Feel better.”

  “Actually, I might not be here tomorrow either.”

  “I understand.”

  “Thanks.” Emma didn’t think Leslie knew she was the Scarlet Knight; her secretary probably thought she was grieving because of the anniversary of Louise’s death. Except Louise wasn’t dead—probably.