When we got up to the office, Allison was waiting. Slumped in a chair next to the desk she stared at the phone. A strange expression ghosted across her face.
I mention this because in the time I’ve known Allison she’s never had what is commonly referred to as expressions. In fact, the only expressions I’d ever seen on Allison’s face, up to this evening, were what body language experts call micro-expressions. Quick flashes of emotion, there and gone before the conscious mind registers the event. Allison kept such a tight rein on her emotions that one would be forgiven for wondering if she even possessed them. So, seeing anything beyond her normal range of facial tics caused my neck muscles to tense for impact.
I don’t have a degree in psychology, but I’m a good study of human faces, and just then it wasn’t difficult to tell what was happening behind her scenes. Equal parts confusion, rage, and fear fought one another for control, second by second, in the battlefield of her thoughts.
She didn’t look up until Justin kicked the door shut. All trace of what she felt vanished behind the cool stone of her features.
“They called,” she said with measured breath.
Of course, they did.
I would have saved Allison from having to take that call. I wish I could have, but I couldn’t be in two places at once. All the same, I wished it could have been different.
“What did they say?” Justin asked.
“They wanted to talk to Caleb,” she said. “They wouldn’t say anything else, except that they would call back when you were here.”
“Good,” I said.
“Good?” they asked in unison.
“People really have to stop doing that around me,” I said, dropping my hat on the desk, “And yes, good.”
“Why is it good?” Allison asked.
“It’s good,” I said, unbuttoning my collar, “Because it means they want to talk. It means they haven’t done anything irreparable yet.”
Allison gave me a hard look. Justin nodded and sat down.
“Listen,” I said to Allison, “If they had really hurt her, they would have called to gloat. And they wouldn’t have cared who was listening. So, the option still exists that they want to negotiate for something. Which is why they said they'd call back. They want me for something. Taking Hannah was just a way to force me into whatever play they have in mind.”
Justin whistled and shook a cigarette out of the pack. I walked as far away from him as I could get and still remain in the room. His lighter still flared up double its normal height. He cocked one caramel eyebrow at me.
“And there’s that,” I said.
“A defective lighter?” Allison asked.
“If that’s the case,” I said, easing closer to them, “Then there’s been a rash of them in the last two days.”
Allison stared at me, expecting a more intelligible answer. Justin looked puzzled.
“God, I could use some coffee,” I said, feeling the weariness settle on my shoulders.
I went to see if my percolator was still in working order. It lolled on a dented chrome side, halfway across the room from its usual perch on the tall filing cabinet. I bought the thing at a thrift store back when I first started this detective gig. It must have been fifty years old. I lifted it from the floor and gave it a shake. Nothing rattled. The plug looked to be in good working order. Save for the newest dent, it looked to be in about the same condition as when I bought the thing. I rinsed it out and set it to percolating. Whoever had built it had taken pride in craftsmanship, because it heated up and bubbled away like nothing had ever happened. A few dings and scratches were not going to deter this little coffee pot from doing its job.
I stood there, staring at it, wishing I felt the same way.
If Justin and Allison engaged in any non-verbal communication, I missed it. Hell, I don’t think I would have noticed much if they’d been yelling at full volume.
The percolator dinged ready and I hunted for an unbroken mug. I found several pieces, scattered chaotically around the office, but nothing solid enough to drink from. I checked the small bathroom just off the main office. It was mostly untouched. Everything seemed intact. My toothbrush was missing, but I figured it had rolled behind the toilet. I didn’t feel like looking for it just then. The mirror was unbroken. I even had toilet paper, still on the roll. Strange that the cult had trashed both rooms of my office but left the bathroom pristine. I stuck my head out the door and shared my find.
“Weird,” Allison said.
“Must’ve thought it was something else,” Justin said.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Probably they thought it was an adjoining door to another office,” he said, “Someone else’s.”
“Polite vandals,” I said. “Hah!”
Justin came bounding to the door.
By the time he got there, I was already swirling water in the mug I keep for rinsing out my mouth. I held up the cup, I imagine like a child that has just found his first Easter egg. I can’t remember my first Easter egg hunt. I wonder if my family had them. I wonder if we celebrated Easter. I wondered if there was ever a we. Justin relaxed when he saw the mug.
“This’ll work fine,” I said.
I have learned to be grateful for little things. Sometimes little things are all that come along.
I strolled back into the office, feeling somewhat lighter for the discovery. That first sip of java was hot and rich and felt wonderful going down. I took another sip before offering it around. Allison waved it off. I offered it to Justin, who waved it on. I crossed the room to hand him the mug, and the weirdness, as I had come to expect it, started.
I got within an arm’s reach of Justin and the cherry on his cigarette flared up a bright white-orange. A good portion of the unburnt butt turned instantly to gray ash. With one smooth movement, he swept the cigarette from his lips and flicked it out a broken window. The cinder died as it hit the humid summer air. Justin gave me a startled look. I gave him a somewhat less startled look in return. I would have chosen a less flamboyant way to have my suspicions verified, but the fireworks in Justin’s bad habit did just fine.
Justin’s eyes narrowed at me.
“No,” I said, holding up a hand, “I didn’t do that on purpose.”
His face relaxed and took on an air of contemplation. Allison tilted her head to one side and stared at the both of us as if we’d just been conversing in an alien tongue.
“I’ve been having a problem with fire,” I said, handing Justin the coffee.
“Since when?” she asked.
“A couple of days now,” I said.
“Think it has any connection to Yvonne Jorgenson?” Justin asked.
It was the next to last thing I wanted to think about. A picture of the charcoal sculpture that used to be Yvonne flared up in my mind. For a second, I could smell barbeque. I could not suppress the shudder.
“Yeah,” I said, “I think it does.”
“Fuck,” Justin breathed.
He stood up and walked to the window farthest from me. Cigarette screwed between his lips and lighter held out as far away from his face as possible, he flicked his Bic. The flame shot up impossibly high for a lighter. When it died, the cigarette was lit, and Justin still had his eyebrows.
You take wins where you can get them.
He smoked for a moment in silence. Allison looked on and I stared off into space, imagining the strange possibilities.
“I guess we had better get you fixed then,” he said, exhaling a thick stream of smoke.
“I’d prefer that to the alternative,” I said.
“What’s the alternative?” Allison asked.
Justin slid a hand into his jacket, stopped and looked at me.
“Go ahead,” I said, knowing what he was carrying, “Show her.”
Allison moved to where Justin stood. I walked to the other end of the room. He handed her the crime scene photo. She gasped and whispered something in Chinese. Justin slipped the photo out of her fingers and stashed it back in his jacket. Allison sat down on the edge of my desk, her complexion several shades paler than normal.
“They want to do this to you?” She asked me.
“I,” I started to say something else, but I had to admit to myself that it was a possibility, even the most likely one, “Yes.”
Just for a moment, a mix of fear and horror ran rampant over her face.
“Of course,” I said, “That’s not plan A.”
Justin snorted smoke through his nose. My ribs kept me from laughing but did nothing to suppress the grin that broke across my mouth. Allison looked back and forth at the both of us, something like disgust sliding under the surface, but after a second, she too let out a little giggle. Then the phone rang. All three of our heads swiveled to stare at it in unison. It rang again. I hadn’t been back that long.
We’re being watched.
The phone rang a third time. I walked over as calmly as I could manage, took a deep breath, and picked up the receiver.
“Third Eye Detective Agency,” I said into it, “What can I help you with?”
“Caleb Carson?” a male voice asked.
It sounded muffled, as if speaking through a rag to disguise its actual sound, but I could hear the command in his voice. It was Drake if that was even his name.
“Mr. Carson speaking,” I said, trying not to hold my breath. For a second, I actually wished it could have been a collection agency.
“I have something of yours,” the voice said.
“I’m listening,” I said, signaling to Justin that this was the call.
“She’s a pretty thing,” the voice said.
“You could say that,” I said.
“Would you like her to stay that way?”
I needed to throw a monkey wrench into this guy’s rap.
“I’m sure she would appreciate it,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could.
“I didn’t call to play games with…”
“Then stop,” I said, cutting him off, “You have something I want. I’m assuming I have something you want. What do we do about it?”
The silence on the other end lasted long enough to shred my nerves.
“I am not a man to trifle with,” the voice said.
“I’m sure,” I said, “but we’re nowhere near the dessert course, so, how’s about we talk turkey?”
I had the sudden urge to gobble and flap my arms. Must’ve been the lack of sleep.
“Very well,” the voice said, “I propose a trade.”
I could hear the smallest of tremors in his voice. He must have been straining to keep the anger out of it.
“Me for her, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll need proof of life first,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“Proof. Of. Life,” I said, emphasizing each syllable. “I’ll need proof that she’s alive and unharmed.”
The silence on the line taunted me. It whispered evil things about what was happening to Hannah and where the fault rested. I shook it off. She needed me at my best if she was going to get out if this mess. As it was, I wasn’t at my best, but I wasn’t going to the let her captors know that.
“Very well,” the voice said.
More silence.
I could hear the phone being moved, and hard breathing appeared on the other end.
“Hannah?” I asked.
“C-C-Caleb?” her voice echoed off the inside of my skull.
She’d been crying, but she could still speak. Her voice didn’t bear the weight and rasp of someone in shock. At least, I hoped that’s what I heard.
“It’s alright Hannah,” I said, trying to be as soothing as possible, “I’m going to come get you and bring you home.”
She tried to say something, but the phone was yanked away from her face.
“Is that sufficient?” the voice asked.
“If it isn’t,” I said, the anger searing each syllable, “I’m going to kill every last one of you.”
“I don’t think so,” the voice said.
“Good,” I spat, “Don’t. I’ll like to see the surprise on your face when it happens.”
“Mr. Carson…”
“Don’t fuck with me,” I said, “Name the where and the when. I’ll be there. And if she’s hurt, I’m going to take it out on you and your toadies.”
“If she is hurt it will be because you did not abide by the conditions of the trade,” he said. “She is a pretty thing but understand this: to me she is just a body. And my boys haven’t had a pretty body to play with in a long time. I’m certain they could find all manner of unseemly games to play with her flesh if you do not do as you are told.”
I thought I had been getting under his skin, but he was back to the cool customer act.
“Name your conditions,” I said.
He did.
I scrambled to jot it down on the few scraps of paper left on my desk. I repeated it back to him. He confirmed it.
“In one hour, then,” he said.
“One hour,” I said, “You remember – she gets hurt, you get killed.”
“Oh, I won’t forget,” he said almost laughing.
Then the phone went dead.
Allison looked at me. I looked at Justin. Allison looked at Justin. Justin nodded to me. Allison looked back at me.
“Are you out of your mind?” she asked.
Very probably.
“Not much of a choice,” I said.
“Neither is going in alone and unarmed,” she said.
“She’s got a point there,” Justin said.
They were both right, but what could I do?
“I’ll be fine,” I said, not believing it much myself.
“No, you won’t,” she said, “They’ll kill you.”
“I’m sure they’ll want to,” I said, “but they won’t. Not there or then. They’ll wait until they can enjoy it, somewhere else, somewhere private.”
Allison looked aghast. I went into the other room and fetched a safe from its hidey-hole under the floorboards. When back in the office, I set it on the desk.
“What’s that?” Allison asked.
“It’s a safe,” I said.
I couldn’t help it. She looked at me as though she thought I might be retarded. She might be right.
“All of my important paperwork is in here,” I said, opening the safe, “If this doesn’t work out, I need one of you to take care of it for me.”
“What?” she asked.
“Like I said, it’s not plan A, but just in case…”
“This is the dumbest thing you have ever done,” she said.
“She’s got a point there,” Justin said.
I couldn’t argue. It was the dumbest thing I had ever done. Or, at least, the dumbest thing I remembered ever doing. I wondered, for just a moment, what kind of mistakes had I made in my life, the life before this one. What kind of person had I been? What kinds of things had I done? Was I ever married? Were there any children out there that looked vaguely like me? Was I the quiet type? A thrill seeker? Did I work a straight job or was I a layabout? What were my parents like? Were they even still alive? If so, did they think I was dead? What had I missed? And, if I went out now, had I lived a good life? Did it even matter?
I usually can’t entertain those types of thoughts. I’ve tried, but they’re slippery, too hard to hold. I break out into a cold sweat and freeze up when I try to focus in that direction. That didn’t happen this time. I felt a clarity concerning those questions I could never grasp before. Maybe the real possibility of my imminent and painful death had something to do with it. Maybe it was just the beatings and lack of sleep. I couldn’t tell what it was, but something was allowing me to explore these thoughts. Could it be something I could replicate later? If there was a later. A hollow place opened up inside. A sense of loss at never being able to answer those questions pressed down on my chest like lead.
Snap out of it!
Anger flared up in my guts, hot and growing. It flash-burned the weight off my chest. Infant tears not quite fully welled up, evaporated in the wave of heat. My skin flushed red as the ghost fire spread in ripples along my limbs. There was no pain, no fear, just the heat of rage, spreading. I felt like I could explode and leave a crater. Then, just as quickly as it came, the anger and heat vanished, leaving only cold and certainty in its wake.
I gulped the last of the coffee and poured another cup. I needed to be clear-headed before this thing went down.
Always been quick on my feet. Might be the only thing that gets me out of this in one piece.
I drank coffee and thought about the options.
What did I have, and what did I know?
Justin was trying to charm Allison out of the state she had worked herself into, but I tuned them out to think.
There was at least one less cultist than before. The tortured corpse was a testament to that much. At least one of them was watching the office. He would most likely shadow me to the meet, make sure I came alone. So, I would have one behind and an unknown number ahead of me; had to be more than a few. A couple of guys, even ten, are a gang, not a cult. I also knew that neither Justin nor Allison intended to let me do this on my own. Oh, they might try to make it look like I was, even if I told them to stay away. The safe money was that one or both of them would lurk somewhere nearby. If they were careful enough, I could use it to my advantage. But it had to appear, to all parties involved, that I had no notion of their attempts. That meant on-the-ground coordination, just in case anyone was listening as well as watching. The combination of my newly broken windows and our heated conversation meant that just about anybody down on the street would have a fair idea of what was being said in my office. I had to work something out because there was just too great a possibility of either Justin or Allison being hurt if I didn’t. I couldn’t have that.
So, I drank coffee, and I thought about what might happen next. And I drank more coffee. I drank the entire pot, long before the hour had passed.
What I needed was something to give me an edge. Something to put me on even ground at least. There would be one moron following me to the trade. I could use that, although I wasn’t exactly sure how I could use it at the time. I needed more. I knew I was sunk if he pulled the magic whammy on me again. Not being a magician myself, as Diana pointed out, magical defense was not an option. There had to be a way of dealing with the fire juju that was decidedly non-magical. I wracked my brain for a while, trying to figure out what that could be.
And then it hit me.
“I have an idea,” I said, "but for it to work I need to get going right now.”
“The meetup isn’t that far away,” Justin said.
“I need to make a stop first,” I said.
“I still don’t believe you’re going through with this,” Allison said.
“Believe it,” I said, but I didn’t much believe it myself.
Even if I had been a total loon in my previous life, I probably had never done anything quite as crazy as this.
“I’ll walk you out,” Justin said, flicking yet another cigarette out the shattered glass teeth of my window.
He had spent the last thirty-five minutes one link shy of chain smoking. He flashed Allison his best, stern policeman look, but all the transmission lines were down. She wasn’t receiving any messages.
I unslung my shoulder holster and draped it across a chair. The .45 I palmed and slid into a jacket pocket. If anyone had been watching through the windows, he would be none the wiser.
Gingerly, I pulled on my jacket. My ribs still hurt like a son of a bitch – the half a hydro never quite blocked it out – and my shoulder ached. What little effect the painkiller had was wearing off. I didn’t dare take another pill, even a half before the swap went down. My hat on my head, the brim straight and neat, I walked out. Of course, Justin followed. I didn’t look at Allison. My head needed to be as clear as it could be. As it was, there was a sharp pain in my sides that got sharper every time I inhaled. Then there was the exhaustion. No need to add abject confusion to the mix.
Justin was so close on my heels that, when I stopped midway down the stairs, he nearly knocked me down the rest of the flight.
“I’ll make this quick,” I said, “I’m working on a plan, but I need you to look after Allison.”
Justin's expression was hard to read, nearly blank.
“Neither one of you intends to let me do this alone,” I said. “Fine by me, but make sure you keep your distance. I don’t want them to have a clue about my reinforcements.”
“That why you pocketed the pistol?”
“That’s the other thing,” I said, fishing the gun out of my pocket and pushing it towards him, “I thought it might make Allison feel better. Hold this for me.”
Curiosity fairly oozed from Justin’s pores.
“They’ll probably pat me down,” I said, trying to imagine a magical X-ray machine, “I’ll want this if everything goes to hell.”
He took the .45 and slid it into a pocket.
“You know the place,” I said, “Hang back, out of sight, until things stop going as planned.”
“And how will I know that?”
Good point.
“You’ll know when I know,” I said. “It’ll be obvious, I think.”
“Uh-huh,” he said.
“Keep Allison out of trouble,” I said.
“I will.”
I knew that he would. He would keep her safe or go down trying. My respect doubled for Detective Justin Hagen right there and then, so did my affection. I realized I really didn’t want to lose any of them: Hannah, Allison, or Justin. In three years, they had become my family. Maybe I’m selfish, but it’s my small world and I wanted to keep it.
“All right,” I said, “Time to go.”
Justin followed me outside. I made a show of unstrapping and handing over my fighting knife. If I was lucky, the mook they had watching the office would be just as clueless as the rest of the rank and file I had run into so far. If I was lucky.
I left Justin standing in a pool of yellow light cast by the streetlamp Diana hadn’t mojoed. I headed off down the street; mostly in the direction, I was supposed to be going. The mook would surely be following me, but in the darkness, I couldn’t make him. I wondered, for a brief moment, what he would think of my short detour to the drug store. Mostly I wondered how I would play it when everything went to hell.
Plan or no, it wasn’t going to be long before I found out just how far to hell everything was headed.