by Liliana Hart
“Occasionally.”
Rachel had a feeling it wasn’t as simple as that. She wasn’t overheated. She wasn’t locking her knees. She wasn’t traumatized. A memory niggled at the back of her mind, and she tried to sit up, pulling against the restraints.
The book.
Josh.
On second thought, maybe she had been through a bit of trauma, even if it was merely a hallucination. “Was there a book lying open on one of the tables?”
“A book?”
“Yeah. A big, leather-bound book. The Complete Guide to Faery Lore by Maximillian Midnight.”
Chief Ryker released the straps, letting Rachel sit up, then reached into her car and pulled out the book. “Thought you might like this. After you fainted, I looked at it a little closer and noticed the name written inside. Joshua Meier.”
“Thank you.” Rachel took the book and clutched it tight to her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, turning the world to a smeared mess of light and shadow. “Where is Nate?”
“Is he someone special to you?” Chief Ryker asked.
Rachel wasn’t sure how to answer that. She saw Nate nearly every day and looked forward to the next day in the rare cases she didn’t. But special? That implied more. She’d had more once, with Steven, and she’d lost it. She wasn’t sure she was up to reaching for something so fragile again. “He’s my neighbor.”
“Well, Sergeant Olson had a few follow up questions for him. I’m sure you’ll have an opportunity to speak to him later. Right now, I need you to help me. It’s time to move to the next stage, Rachel. I want to get an Amber Alert out for Josh.”
It took Rachel several seconds before she could squeak out her question. “You think someone took him?”
“I don’t know,” the chief said. “But we’re going to cover all the bases, okay?”
Rachel hugged the old book. She would help the police cover all the bases they wanted, but she would also cover some bases of her own. “Anything. What do you want me to do?”
Chapter Six
Police Chief Val Ryker lowered herself into her office chair and arranged the notes in front of her. The search for Josh Meier was fully underway now. The Lake Loyal PD dispatcher, receptionist and all-around superwoman, Oneida Perkins, had already issued the Amber Alert, using a recent photo and description provided by Rachel, and the county had sent deputies to help finish canvassing the neighborhood surrounding the closed elementary school.
Every missing child case was treated seriously, even though every one of the handful Val had encountered since moving to Lake Loyal had been a false alarm. Kids running away from home only to return hours later. Kids who forgot to ask for permission to visit a friend’s house. Kids who lost track of time while out playing. Val didn’t know which group Josh fit into yet, but there was one giant element that was nagging at her.
The thing that disturbed her most was this happened to be the second incident involving the old school in as many weeks. Two Fridays ago, the Buchner kid was pulled out of the old school in a state of shock. He hadn’t spoken since, and no one knew what had happened to him. Val had personally made sure the school was locked tight with security chains. But today the chains were gone, and the door facing the playground was open.
She looked down at the description of what Josh Meier was wearing. Gray sweatpants with a white stripe. Red t-shirt, dark gray hoodie, socks, and Crocs. She also had a list of the names and addresses of everyone who came into contact with the boy over the past few months, and the computer Josh used. Rachel Meier had been very cooperative. She’d even eschewed a trip to the hospital to check out her fainting spell in order to provide every bit of information she could.
But still, there was something…
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “I have coffee for you,” a voice called in a sing-song cadence.
“Come in, Oneida,” Val said.
The dispatcher burst through the door. Big in every sense of the word, Oneida was as passionate as a mother bear, as efficient as an Aaron Rodgers touchdown drive, and as demanding as a diva. She set a steaming paper cup on Val’s desk. “I’ll bet you could use this.”
Val loved coffee. The good, dark-roasted kind. Hot and black. Unfortunately as much as she loved good brew, and as much as she loved the Lake Loyal PD’s dispatcher and overall woman-in-charge, Oneida Perkins did not make good coffee.
Keeping her reaction to the burned bitterness out of her expression, Val set her cup on her desk and smiled at the big, brash blonde. “Thanks, Oneida. You don’t have to bring me coffee.”
“I was walking in here anyway to tell you what I found on Nate Welks.”
Nate Welks. Another player in this case who didn’t add up. “I was just thinking about him.”
“Well, let me illuminate you. At first I couldn’t find a thing. It was as if the guy never existed. But then…”
“Yes?”
“With brilliant sleuthing work, even if I do say so myself, I discovered a federal ID issued to one Nathan Wells, with no k.”
Val let that gel in her mind for a second. “So his real name is Wells, and he changed it to Welks?”
“Looks like it. Brilliant, really. It’s an easy change to falsify, and yet the one letter difference would keep it from showing up in simple database searches.”
“And you have proof this is the same guy?”
“The picture matched the one Pete Olson texted me earlier.”
“So he doesn’t want to make it easy for people to find him, and he works for the government.”
“At least he did. An agency called IPPO.”
“IPPO?”
“Apparently it’s a branch of the FBI. Investigations of Paranormal Phenomena and the Occult.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. There’s no such agency.”
“There is. Trust me. They operate under the radar.”
“Whatever you say, Oneida.”
“Glad I finally have you trained, chief.”
Val smiled. “Phone number? I think I’d like to make this call myself.”
Oneida handed her a memo sheet with a flourish then left the office.
Val set the number aside then booted up her computer to do a little pre-call research. Investigations of Paranormal Phenomena and the Occult. She’d visited her share of dairy farms since moving to rural Wisconsin, but this had to be the biggest pile of bullshit she’d encountered to date.
A Google search for IPPO turned up nothing but a series of Japanese boxing manga, so she picked up the phone. Cold call, it was.
It took over fifteen minutes to negotiate the layers of the FBI until she finally found a person who seemed to recognize the agency. Massaging a twinge of stiffness in her neck, she waited for the call to transfer.
When the music stopped and the line picked up, a male voice answered. “IPPO. How may I direct your call?”
Val explained who she was. “I’d like to find out some background on a former employee by the name of Nathan Wells.”
“I’m sorry. No one with that name has ever worked for this agency.”
“Are you sure? My source is over two years old, but I would think your records would extend back that far.”
“I wish I could help. Good luck.” The line went dead.
Val stared down at Rachel Meier’s list, focusing on the name Nate Welks, aka Nathan Wells. She didn’t believe him, she didn’t believe Rachel Meier, and more than anything, she didn’t believe the IPPO.
What Val did believe in was justice. And she wouldn’t quit until she found out what happened to that little boy.
Chapter Seven
By the time police officers left Rachel’s townhouse, the evening had disappeared and night had claimed Lake Loyal. Josh’s eight o’clock bedtime had come and gone, and the thought of him out there alone chilled Rachel more than the dropping temperature. Shrugging on a heavier coat, she slipped out the front door and walked to the next townhouse.
Oberon’s wide, yellow
eyes followed her through the bay window, watching her extend a trembling finger and push Nate’s doorbell. The chime echoed brittle in the night’s chill, followed by the creak of footsteps.
The door swung open, and Nate peered out. “I thought you might stop over,” he said, scanning the parking lot beyond as he gestured her inside and closed the door behind her.
“I need to know what’s going on, Nate.” Miraculously, her voice sounded stronger than she felt, grounded, resolute. “The whole truth.”
He nodded. “You might want to sit down.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Then I might want to sit down,” he said, but he didn’t move to a chair, just shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if not sure how to begin.
“What’s inside the school? What caused my hallucinations?”
“You had more when you were inside with police?”
She told him about the mouse that no one else seemed to spot. Then bracing herself, she described her shock at seeing Josh’s face in the faery book’s illustration.
“A faery book?”
“It was Steven’s. We lent it to the library late last year. The kids were fascinated by it.” She paused. She hadn’t come here to spill her guts. She’d intended for this to be the other way around. “What’s happening, Nate?”
“The book, is it The Complete Guide to Faery Lore?”
“Yes.”
“Written by Maximillian Midnight?”
“Yes.”
“We have to get that book, Rachel.”
For a moment, she almost told him she had the book safe on her kitchen counter. Again offering up all she knew without getting any information in return. Catching the words before they could leave her lips, she folded her arms across her chest. “Why is that book important?”
Nate looked away then paced across the room.
“Please, Nate.”
He stopped at the front window, staring outside over Oberon’s head. “The night Steven died I swore I’d protect you from all this.”
Rachel lowered herself to the leather couch. Nate hadn’t moved next door to her until after Steven’s funeral. She remembered the day. So how could he…
She gripped her thighs with strong fingers. “You knew Steven?”
“He and I worked together.”
“Worked together?” she echoed. Steven was an engineer who designed mining equipment. Nate taught in the University Outreach program. At least that’s what he’d told her. “Doing what?”
“You have to understand, we signed confidentiality agreements. We couldn’t talk about our work with anyone. Even family.”
The tremor that had afflicted Rachel’s hands and knees now moved into her stomach. In the past there had been times she’d sensed Nate knew a lot more than he let on. Like last fall when he’d commented on Steven being a closet Viking fan. Like his talent for always remembering Josh’s birthday. Like the night three weeks ago when he’d shown up on her doorstep with apple-cranberry pie, smiling as if he already knew it was her favorite.
More than once, she’d wondered if he was attracted to her, and that was the reason he’d picked up on things she hadn’t remembered telling him. She’d liked that theory, more than she’d wanted to admit, and as a result, she’d never questioned it further.
Obviously she’d better start asking some questions now. “Who did you and Steven work for?”
“The U.S. government. More specifically for an organization called IPPO.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Investigations of Paranormal Phenomena and the Occult.”
Rachel shook her head. “Steven didn’t believe in any of that stuff.”
“None of us did at first. We were hired to be skeptics, to investigate.”
“And you found things that were, uh, paranormal?”
“I suspect there are a lot of things out there that we can’t see, that we don’t know exist.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m sorry. Yes, we found some things we couldn’t entirely explain.”
“What things? Whatever it is that’s in the school?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“You mentioned the book, the one about faeries.”
Of course. Steven’s book. And Gertie’s comments.
But this was nuts. The whole idea was too crazy to believe. “You’re saying a faery has my son?”
“Stories of faeries abducting children have been around for hundreds of years.”
“Yes. Stories. Fairytales.”
“Oh, faeries exist. But they aren’t part of this physical world. Instead, they exist on another level, an etheric level.”
Rachel nodded. “Like auras. Like the energies channeled by Reiki and acupuncture.”
“Yes.”
“Stories.”
“We were able to measure its energy, Rachel. Steven collected quite a bit of evidence.”
“Steven did?”
“He worked with the faery more than I did.”
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment. Her mind felt as if it had been scrambled, as if everything she thought she knew was turned upside down. “So this faery, it was a pet?”
“More like a captive.”
The hard edge to Nate’s voice felt more authentic than the rest of this whole conversation. Rachel looked up at him, trying to read his expression, but other than a slight pinch to the corners of his eyes, his face revealed nothing.
“What happened?” she asked.
“We discovered it in the forest surrounding Devil’s Lake. Steven visited it every day, just to learn about it. It was free then, and I think it was exploring us as much as we were it.”
“But then?”
“Then the IPPO was put under the umbrella of the NSA, and we got a different directive. We were to capture it and figure out how to use its powers for our own ends.” He let out a heavy breath. “We held it for two days, Steven did, and every second was horrible.”
“Horrible? How?”
“The fay folk aren’t all like those cute pixies you see in Disney cartoons. They can read your thoughts and feelings as clearly as you and I can see each other in the physical world. And they can use them against you.”
Rachel could feel those hands on her, pushing her toward the toilet bowl. “When I was a freshman in high school, there was a group of older girls who bullied me whenever they could.”
Nate watched her, silent for a moment, then sat on the couch beside her. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. “They shoved your head in the toilet, didn’t they?”
“That’s what I was thinking about, when I entered that girl’s bathroom, when I heard the sound of a girl crying the way I cried that day.”
Nate nodded slowly. “When every parent brings their kids to school, they also bring memories of their own schooling. Good or bad.”
“Why didn’t it read the cops’ memories? Make them see and feel things?”
Nate reached for her hand then pulled back, balling his fingers into a fist on his thigh. “It might not have cared about them.”
“And it cared about Josh and…” Rachel’s throat felt tight. “It’s because of Steven, isn’t it?”
“I got his call when he was already on the bluffs overlooking Devil’s Lake.” This time when Nate reached for her hand, he took it, enfolding her fingers in his. “That was when I found out he’d released the faery that afternoon.”
It was a question that Rachel had never been able to answer, and yet it had shaped the last two years of her life, of Josh’s life. “Why did he go up on those rocks at night?”
“He was convinced you and Josh were up there, that you were in trouble, lost, and needed his help.”
“That we…” Rachel’s throat closed, cutting off her words.
“I told him to wait, that I’d help. But…” Nate shook his head. “If I would have been there, maybe we could have kept each other grounded in re
ality. Maybe I could have kept him from going over that cliff.”
Quiet hung in the room, no sound but the soft purr of Oberon giving himself a bath.
Rachel stared down at their entwined fingers. Before Steven died, she’d been so careful to keep her hands moisturized and manicured. She’d wanted them soft to his touch, wanted to be at her best for her husband.
Now her skin was dry, her nails ragged and chipped, and yet Nate didn’t seem to care. His fingers wrapped around hers, squeezing just a little too hard, as if right then he needed her as much as she needed him.
“That’s why I bought this place the next day. I wasn’t there for Steven. But I swore I’d protect you and Josh. When nothing happened for so long, not even a blip on my energy meters, I figured the faery moved on. At least I hoped it had. I was wrong.” He rubbed his palms up her forearms then down, as if trying to warm her. “But I’ll figure something out. We’ll get Josh back. I promise you that.”
Rachel had lived alone most of her adult life, before marriage, then after her husband’s death. She’d always been self-sufficient, the person who took care of others, the one who always had more to give. But tonight, she was wrung out and terrified she’d lose her son. Nate, with his warm hands and strong words, was throwing her a lifeline.
She wasn’t sure she believed all this talk of faeries. Hallucinations could be caused by a lot of things. Mold in the school. A brain tumor. A drug. Who knew? But she didn’t have to believe in magic. She believed in something more tangible.
Nate.
That he cared about Josh, that he would help her find him, that he would pull out all the stops to get her son back. And she was going to grab that belief and hold on for all she was worth. Even if it meant suspending her understanding of reality for a little while.
“I have the faery book, Nate. It’s in my kitchen.”
Chapter Eight
The last thing Nate wanted to do was release Rachel’s hands, but they had little time to lose. “Show me.”
