Chapter 15

Canada, Twenty-Eight Years Ago

The boy squatted on his heels next to the mound covering his brother. He patted the snow with both hands. “Bye, bye, Sheshebens.” Tears streamed down his face and as they fell on the snow, landing as tiny glistening beads that froze into crystals. He stood, grabbed his father around the waist and squeezed tight. He didn’t mind that Daddy’s belt buckle dug into his chin. He was sure the warmth of his father’s body would absorb his pain, transmute it into something safe and ordinary. Noshi stroked the boy’s hair. He dropped down to his knees, and held his son away from him with both arms and looked into his face. “It’s fine to cry now, but we have to be brave. We have to take care of Mommy…”

Northern California, Present Time

Jimmy asked Maggie to keep the girls overnight. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I have a date. Mom and dad are at a tribal meeting, and they won’t be home until late.”

It was a rare and beautiful thing when Maggie got the girls to herself. She planned homemade pizza and chocolate chip cookies. She greeted them at the door with their favorite drinks, Shirley Temples with extra pomegranate syrup and five cherries in each glass.

“Aunt Maggie, we brought our Dora the Explorer game. Can we play?” Bird asked.

“Absolutely, but first, how ‘bout we make pizza and cookies?”

“Can we have pineapple on the pizza?” Flower asked.

Maggie plucked a can of diced pineapple off the counter and held it out. “Why do you think I bought this?”

That evening, after three games of Dora, all of which Maggie lost, she pulled the girls with her under a comforter outside on the deck where the three together snuggled and counted shooting stars. When the girls fell asleep against her, Maggie carried them in one at a time and tucked them in together in the guest room bed. Then she changed into her flannel pajamas and robe, poured herself a brandy, and sat on the couch with Chester at her feet and Samantha curled in her lap.

She had no idea what time it was when she dozed off, but she’d only been asleep for maybe an hour when the phone rang. She ran to side of the room where her cell was plugged in to recharge, almost tripping over Chester. She got to the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Maggie?”

“Mom? What…you’re dead. I’m dreaming, right? This isn’t real.”

“The problem is, you are always dreaming, but sometimes, your dreams are not dreams. Sometimes what you think is not real is real.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice.” Maggie choked with emotion. “Mom, I miss you so much. There are so many things I want to ask you, and things I want to tell you. You left so soon.”

“I love you, my daughter, and you need to know that, but that’s not why I called. I need to tell you to pay attention.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t. But you must learn to understand. Do not turn your back on signs and the messages. Do not.”

*

Maggie awoke with a crick in her neck. She’d fallen asleep with her head on the back of the sofa in an odd angle. Samantha was still on her lap. Chester was still at her feet. The phone was in its charging cradle across the room.

What a bizarre dream. Maggie rubbed her neck, and sat straight. “Sorry, kitty, but I gotta get up.” As she rose from the couch, the cat leapt off onto the floor and stretched. Maggie went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and washed her face, then put on a kettle for hot cocoa. Bird and Flower would be up soon, expecting hot chocolate and banana pancakes. She was mashing ripe bananas in a bowl with a fork, when Bird padded into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

“Good morning, sweetie. Cocoa will be ready in minute.”

“Aunt Maggie?”

“Yes, hon?”

“Who called last night?”

Maggie stopped her mashing, and turned to the little girl. “No one called.”

“Yes, someone did call. I heard the phone ring, and you answered it and were talking. Flower heard, too.”

*

A week later Jake showed up at Maggie’s cabin to deliver the news in person that Bird and Flower were missing. She collapsed to her knees. Jake offered his hand to help her, but she pulled away. “No. Leave me alone for a second.” She composed herself, and stood, knees shaking. “I’m going to find that fucker and strangle him with my bare hands.”

*

News reporters from agencies all over the country had descended in a swarm upon Wild River County. The case of the “Heartless Monster” had become the most talked about criminal investigation in the nation. Someone had shared with the press that the suspect was a cannibal.

“When I find the moron who leaked that info I’ll skin him alive for compromising our investigation. If he’s one of us, I’m going to shove his badge up his ass,” Jake told Maggie.

“I’ll hold him down for you. Cannibals jack up TV ratings and sell lots of papers. That’s why all these vermin reporters are crawling around Wicklow.”

When Maggie heard that Mario Panetti, an Italian writer and journalist, famous in Europe for his gory slasher novels and highly sensationalized articles, showed up in town, she had a conniption. “Why the hell is he here? The last thing we need is some pseudo-big shot in town taking everyone’s focus off the missing girls.”

Mario made a statement to local reporters that he planned to write a book based on the child murders called, “Il Mostro Americano,” (The American Monster). That is why he had flown from Rome to this ‘quaint little backwards town,’ as he referred to Wicklow. Maggie read the article over her morning coffee. She said, “Chester, we’ve got an authentic asshole in our midst.”

Later that day, the authentic asshole burst through the doors of the sheriff’s department accompanied by a fawning entourage, like a 1940s Hollywood celebrity. He wore a floor-length coat, black fedora pulled over one eye and an enormous emerald pinkie ring. Maggie thought him cartoonish. Oh, my God. He’s a walking, talking cliché.

He approached Maggie. “I’m sorry, Signora, about your nieces.” She nodded, but was on edge and it felt like the Italian was stepping on her last nerve. When he demanded assistance for his research, Maggie leaned into his face so close she could smell stale garlic and cigar smoke on his breath. “Sir, you are as out of place in Wicklow as a turd on a birthday cake, and about as welcome, too.”

Jake and his deputies howled with laughter.

Maggie smiled. “You know, Mr. Panetti, there’s a plane out of Redding this afternoon that’ll take you directly to LAX. I’m pretty sure you can get back to Rome from there. If I were you, I’d consider going home now.”

“I’m only here to help, Signora.”

“You mean you’re here to help yourself.”

Jake laughed. “I’m telling you, Mr. Panetti, I’ve known this woman for a lot of years, and one thing I know with certainty, you don’t want to screw with Maggie Sloan. She doesn’t much like newspaper writers, and if you ignore my advice, I’ll guarantee you, sir, she’ll break your balls into itsy bitsy pieces.” Jake rolled his thumb and forefingers together to demonstrate.

Again, the men broke into laughter.

Mario worked up an indignant scowl and his puffy cheeks turned bright pink, which made everyone in the room howl with even more gusto. The swarthy man turned heel, snapped his fingers in the air as though summoning a maître d’, and stormed out of the station cursing in Italian. His sycophants, a foppish man and two young women with exaggerated boob jobs, followed behind.

“Good work, everyone,” Jake said, “I think we got rid of the asshole and bimbo contingency. Did you all see the look on that jerk’s face when Maggie called him a turd? Priceless.”

Maggie didn’t laugh.

“Mag, go home for a while and get some rest.” Jake said. “I’ll cover this. You haven’t rested since the girls went missing. You’re no good to me if your senses are dulled. I’ve got deputies searching 24/7 for Flower and Bird, and I won’t let up until we find them, I promise.”

Although reluctant, Maggie was exhausted and she’d developed yet another crippling headache. She sighed, looked at Jake and said, “Oh, what the hell. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

The ten mile drive to her A-frame took forever. Her neck felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, and the punishing pain behind her eyes overwhelmed her. She couldn’t shake the image of her grandnieces’ faces. The more she thought of them, the more her head hurt. The harsh brilliance of the midday sun didn’t help.

She arrived home and plopped down on the couch for a nap within the welcomed darkness of her living room. Samantha curled on her abdomen and purred. As Maggie began to doze and dream of ravens, someone knocked on the door. “What the fuck?” She dislodged the cat and struggled to her feet. Chester and Samantha at her heels, hugging her wounded ribs with one arm, she answered the door. Sunlight intruded into the cool darkness of the room. Maggie made out the figure of a female reporter standing on her porch wearing flame red lipstick, teetering on six-inch spiked heels. A cameraman stood behind her with a handheld perched on his shoulder.

“Ms. Sloan? We’re from KLAA Los Angeles, and we are here to talk to you about your involvement in the case of The Heartless Monster.” The reporter stuck a microphone in Maggie’s face. When Maggie glared at her, the reporter withdrew the mic and spoke into it. “I understand you’ve been investigating the murders, and that your nieces were reported missing yesterday. We’d like to…”

“Get the fuck off of my front porch now, and leave my property pronto or I’ll shoot your asses. Oh, and that’s off the record, by the way.” Maggie slammed the door in the reporter’s face.

She watched from her window through a small part in the drapes until she saw the “vermin” climb into the KLAA van and drive away roiling dust in its wake. Maggie settled back down onto the couch. Samantha jumped back onto her stomach, and the two slept for five hours.

When Maggie awoke, it was night. She felt groggy as a drunken farmer and her head still hurt. She stumbled into the kitchen, popped a couple of aspirin, and put on a pot of coffee. “Okay, Chester, coffee, a quick hot shower, and then we’ll head back to the sheriff’s office. You think everyone did all right today without us, fella?”

Her cell rang. “Hello?”

“Good news,” Jake said. “We got a lead on the girls. Found their bikes not far from Bear’s property.”

“I’ll meet you there,” she said.

Maggie pushed the off button on the coffee pot. She and Chester almost flew out the front door. She jumped into the Chevy, slammed it into first gear, and sped off toward her brother’s house.

*

When she pulled into Danny’s driveway, a half dozen other vehicles were already parked in the driveway, including Jake’s squad car. Cathy, in tears, ran to greet her. “If they don’t find my granddaughters livin’, I don’t think I can take it.”

Maggie wrapped her arms around Cathy and rocked her from side to side, her own unbidden tears sliding down her cheeks. She knew there was nothing she could say to make things better for her sister-in-law or for herself, and she had a sickening knowledge that the girls were gone. It had been some hours since Jimmy had last seen them. By now, the killer would have fed them, given them a Hershey bar, broken their necks, and eaten their hearts. He would have then posed them in a grotesque hug somewhere in a shallow grave or on top of the cold ground where coyotes could tear them into pieces. Please, let them at least be in a grave.

For the first time since the girls’ disappearance she allowed herself to cry over her grandnieces, and having another woman to share her grief made it somehow okay to give in. Still holding her sister-in-law, Maggie lifted her head and wailed. Above her, ravens circled.

“Glad you’re here, Mag,” said Jake as he approached her.

Maggie released Cathy wiping away tears with her sleeve. “All right. What’s the status? Search party assembled and briefed?”

“We recovered the girl’s bikes about a half mile from here on an old logging road. We’re using Bear and Cathy’s house as a base. Everyone is inside waiting for you.”

“What do you mean waiting? We don’t have time to wait. What’s wrong with you? Those girls are probably dead already with their hearts ripped out, and the team is waiting?”

Maggie caught site of Cathy’s stricken expression. “No, Cathy, I didn’t mean that. The girls could be alive, really. I’m sorry, I only…”

“I’ll go in and make more coffee.” Cathy turned toward the house.

Another truck pulled up behind Maggie’s, and Mingan stepped out.

“What’s he doing here?” Jake said through gritted teeth.

“I heard in town the girls’ bikes were found nearby,” said Mingan as he walked to Jake and Maggie. “I figured you’d all be here. I came to offer my help.”

“We’ve got enough help, thanks,” said Jake. “Why don’t you go on back to wherever it is you came from, buddy? This is a touchy situation. We don’t have time for amateurs slowing us down.”

“Jake!’ Maggie said. She extended her hand to Mingan. “Thank you for coming. Of course we are happy to have your help.”

“You know how fond I am of Bird and Flower. I want to do something.”

“Come into the house and grab a cup of coffee. We’ll be headed out in a few minutes to find the girls.” She put her hand on Mingan’s arm. “Thanks for being here. It means a lot.”

“It’s the least I could do. I’ve been sick with worry about the girls. I can’t imagine what Jimmy, Bear, Cathy and you are going through right now. I’ve got my entire church in a prayer circle for all of you, but I wanted to be here personally.”

Jake had started back to the house so he could have not caught more of the conversation beyond “Jake,” and that was just fine with Maggie.

Sally showed up with a basket of blackberry muffins. “I got here as soon as I could,” she said as she set the muffins on the hood of a car. “Ah, honey. I’m so sorry.” She folded Maggie into an embrace and the two women clung to one another for a long while.

There were twelve in the search party, deputies and townspeople. In groups of twos and threes, each team claiming a separate direction, carrying flashlights, whistles, cell phones and walkie-talkies. One of the men from town brought his pair of Walker hounds and held the girls’ unwashed nightgowns beneath their noses. The man and dogs headed off toward the logging road. Chester remained in the bed of the truck because, as Maggie said, “That hound is as useless as tits on a boar hog.”

Jake and Maggie headed toward the river, and cried out, “Flower. Bird.”

The sounds of the dogs baying, and the search teams stomping through the brush calling for the girls echoed through the forest.

“I’ve lost track. How long have they been missing?” Maggie asked Jake.

“More than eleven hours.” Jake put his arm around Maggie. “We still have time.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“He’s always kept the kids for at least 24 hours before he…I’m sorry, Mag. We do still have time. We’re going to find them.”

“You’re a good friend, Jake.” Maggie leaned into Jake’s chest. He put his arms around her. After a moment, Maggie dislodged herself from Jake’s embrace. “Let’s keep on. We don’t have time to waste.” She tramped down the hill closer to the river. It was colder than she thought it would be, even for this time of the year. Maggie felt frozen inside and out as though her bones and her skin were made of ice.

Ravens called from the trees. It seemed to Maggie they were talking to her rather than to one another. “If you could just tell me which way to walk,” she said to them, “I’d double your corn rations. Please. I want to find my nieces.”

“What did you say?” Jake asked as he caught up with her.

“Don’t listen to me,” she said. “I’m going so crazy that I’m even talking to the birds now.”

The further down the hill, the denser the forest.

“It’s going to be difficult to see much of anything,” Jake said.

Two ravens flew overhead, circled. Maggie looked up. The birds rocked and clicked, then flew north.

“We’re going this way,” Maggie said, following the ravens.

“Why? It’s more likely we’ll see them in the clearing this way,” Jake said directing the beam of his flashlight in the opposite direction.

“I said, we are going this way.” Maggie clenched her jaw. “Don’t fuck with me, Jake. Please.”

The ravens settled in a gray pine right ahead of where Maggie and Jake walked.

Happy’s voice crackled over a walkie talkie. “Jake, Maggie, you there?”

Jake pushed the button. “Yeah, Happy. Any sign of the girls?”

“Not yet, but there’s someone here who needs to talk to you, so you might want to meet us back at Cathy and Bear’s.”

“Damn, Jake. We don’t have time for this,” Maggie said. “The house is nearly half a mile up the hill from us.”

“Really. You better come up,” Happy said.

“Just tell us who it is, Happy.” Maggie said.

“FBI.”