May 12
THE FIERY BURN SOARED up her nerves and pierced her brain. For a second, the world disappeared. Only the pain remained. Chloe turned away from the counter, choosing to suffer in silence rather than make a scene. The roof of her mouth was already going numb from the scalding latte.
The last thing she wanted to do was to offend Fiona. After all, she was one of the kindest people in Eagle’s Nest and Chloe was the one who had insisted both drinks be prepared extra hot. It was a precaution to ensure the drinks would be pleasantly warm by the time she made it back home to Jacob. He was preparing omelets for breakfast.
In another lifetime, Chloe had loved preparing elaborate breakfasts for her first husband. But everything had changed when Candace was born.
The memory of her dead daughter, and the guilt for the innumerable ways she had retreated from those who had needed her most, sat like an ever-present lead weight in Chloe’s stomach. Some days she fared better at ignoring it. On other days, the relentless march of appalling memories convinced her there was no possible path to forgiveness for her sins.
Shelving the self-hatred, Chloe turned back to the counter and picked up a cardboard carrier. She tucked her drink in one corner, then glanced at Fiona who was steaming the decadent full-fat milk for Jacob’s latte.
Working her tongue gingerly around her mouth, Chloe did her best not to wince at the searing sensation. As bad as the pain was, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Nothing could take away the gratitude she felt toward the universe for bringing her oldest daughter back into her life. While she could never make it right with Candace, there was a chance Kate might not be lost to her forever.
She turned to a nearby table where a glass carafe of water sat near a stack of paper cups. Eying the slices of cucumber and ice cubes floating in the vessel, Chloe’s entire life’s purpose suddenly coalesced into one simple goal—getting the icy liquid into her mouth. Snatching a cup, she barely registered the sound of the bell above the front door.
“Good morning, Sheriff!” Fiona called out brightly, as she finished pouring Jacob’s drink.
Chloe took a huge swig of water and held it in her mouth. The cooling sensation lasted no more than a few seconds before the liquid began to warm.
“Hi, Fiona,” The sheriff replied brightly.
The proprietor tucked Jacob’s travel mug in Chloe’s carrier. “Have a great day, Chloe!”
Chloe responded with a wave. Swallowing carefully, she took another drink. The water stayed cooler for a few seconds longer this time, numbing the burn a bit.
She watched as the sheriff entered into a brief exchange with Fiona. They spoke too quietly for Chloe to hear what they were saying.
Downing the remainder from the cup, Chloe tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. Oral nerves still screaming, she picked up the carrier and turned to find the sheriff standing a few feet away.
“Great way to start the day, right?” she offered. Her first impression was he looked disappointed about something, but his ready smile dispelled the notion.
“Absolutely. I’m here almost every morning.”
“Fiona is a treasure! Thank goodness we’re not reliant on the big chains.” Her expression shifted. “By the way, I wanted to thank you for working with us on the vigil for that poor girl. Everyone really appreciated the opportunity to express the community’s sadness.”
Something flashed in his features, but it passed too fast for Chloe to be sure what it meant.
“Thanks again. You and your friends did a great job coordinating it.”
A wave of genuine sympathy sidelined the pain in her mouth in a way the water could not. “What happened was such a tragedy. I was happy to do it.” She stared at his handsome features, idly wondering whether her daughter found him equally attractive. From what Chloe had heard, the two had been working together since Kate arrived. But it was none of Chloe’s business. Instead she asked, “Are you going to let the public know the case is closed?”
“Excuse me?” The sheriff’s expression remained pleasant and open despite the irritated tone.
“I mean, I assumed it was because Kate went back to San Francisco …”
He nodded. “I owe you an apology about that.”
“Why?”
“She came here to see you and the case monopolized her time.”
The lead weight in Chloe’s stomach did a flip flop. She wondered whether Kate had confided anything about their past to the sheriff. The thought made her feel small and horrible.
“Oh, please don’t apologize to me. I’m just sorry she had to leave so soon. Hopefully she can come back up. I’d love to get the chance to show her around.”
This time there was no mistaking the change in Tony’s expression. The wistfulness in his features confirmed not only was the man attracted to her daughter, but it appeared he was carrying a bit of a torch for her as well. The thought brought Chloe a level of maternal pride. The sensation was strange and wonderful all at the same time.
She beamed back at him. “Maybe we could all get together if she comes back?”
“I’d look forward to it.”
Unsure how to respond, Chloe voiced the next thing that came into her mind. “At least she got the chance to visit Neah Bay before she left.”
“Neah Bay?”
“Yes, I stopped by her place yesterday. She said she was going to stop there on her way to Seattle.”
“But Neah Bay is in the opposite direction from Seattle.”
“I told her it would take her out of her way, but once she found out about the Makah Cultural Center, she’d made her mind up. I told her about Cape Flattery as well, but she didn’t seem as interested. Which was better anyway, because if she tried to squeeze in both visits, she would’ve been stuck driving in the dark.”
“Do you know why she wanted to go to the Center?”
Chloe watched the growing intensity in his expression, wondering what she might have stepped into. “Yes. Kate had a picture of a bracelet she was interested in. I had told her I thought it looked like one of the orca bracelets made by the Makah.”
“And she went there yesterday?”
“I think so.”
“Have you heard from her since?”
Another maternal instinct swelled inside Chloe. Another with which she had grown unfamiliar—apprehension. The emotion twisted her features into a frown. “No, she said she was going to text me when she finished up at the reservation, but she never did. I’m sure she was just busy …”
The uncertainty in her voice made the words sound more like a question than a statement.
The tightness at the corners of Tony’s eyes was not reassuring. “I’m sure she was. Well, it was nice to see you again.”
“You, too!” Chloe was not sure if he actually heard her.
He had turned and headed for the door without even waiting for his drink. Chloe forgot all about the pain in her mouth. Now her stomach was the problem. It was rapidly filling with dread.
*
Kate awoke to a frigid reality of aches and pains. Opening her eyes, she found herself lying in a world of absolute darkness.
Placing her hands on the smooth metal surface beneath her, she tried to raise her head. The world tilted and pitched, making it feel as if she were at sea in a hurricane. In an instant, her stomach swapped places with her mouth. As digestive acid edged its way up her esophagus, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
Easing herself back down, she rested her cheek against the cold, flat surface. Her thoughts could only be strung together in the lulls between the waves of debilitating nausea.
The cages.
The girls.
The stinging sensation in her neck …
An injection?
Who could have snuck up on her?
The lull between waves slowly began to grow in duration. After a few minutes, she felt well enough to attempt moving. Ignoring the impulse to rise, she slid her hands outward in either direction. In the inky blackness, it was impossible to determine where she was, or how safe it might be to move around.
Once her arms were fully extended, she waved them in sweeping wide arcs. Nothing. She held her breath for a full minute. Her ears came up as empty as her hands and eyes.
The cold bit ever tighter, enveloping the entire surface area of her body. Instinctively, she reached for the warmth of her jean pockets. Rather than brushing against denim, her fingertips skipped over an uneven field of goosebumps before stopping at the elastic leg band of her cotton panties. The shirt and jacket she had been wearing earlier were gone as well. Only her bra remained.
Fear pierced the latent veil of disorientation, bringing the world into hyperfocus. Although cloaked in darkness, she felt as exposed as if she were standing under a thousand-watt light.
Determined not to give in to the debilitating emotion, she tried to focus her thoughts. Was she still in the room with the other girls?
“Hello?” she rasped. One long moment after another. Nothing but silence.
“Hello, is anyone there?” Another long wait with the same result.
“Please, is anyone there?” Minute after minute ticked by.
“Zamira? Zamira, are you there?” Kate was met with the same emptiness. “Zamira, I want to help you. I came here to help you because of your sister, Haryati.”
An image of the arrest record for the doctor in Indonesia flashed in her mind. It had been completed in Malay, the language the girls likely spoke. Were they there in the darkness? Was it they couldn’t understand English, or had they been threatened not to make a sound?
It might have been a latent effect of the drug, but she grew increasingly certain she was alone in the darkness. The conviction was accompanied by a sense of utter desperation.
The world seemed to shift again. She could feel the bite of rusty, phantom handcuffs. In the next moment, an equally irrational fear seized her mind. Although he was safely behind bars, Kate held her breath, fully expecting to hear the familiar voice of the Tower Torturer.
Rolling onto her side she squeezed her eyes shut and curled herself into a tight ball. The defensive position offered no calming effect. In fact, she felt weaker and more vulnerable.
Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. Adrenaline spurred her thoughts to fly by with the chaotic panic of forest creatures fleeing a wildfire. The vile smells and grisly images of so many crime scenes—images of corpses, pain … fear …
One thought moved a little slower than the rest. It wound its way in and around every recollection, whispering to Kate as it worked its way deeper and deeper into her heart. It could be summed up in one word: victim.
Starting with her sister Candace, there had been so many victims. Some she had saved, and a whole host of others she had not. The word took shape around the edges of other memories, bringing each failure into vivid detail. The three girls the Tower Torturer had killed. The unimaginable horrors each victim had experienced before they died. The grisly image of Haryati’s ravaged body hanging limply in the pit. The grim faceless stares of the two unnamed skulls she had recovered. The bone fragments from six different victims in Celia’s bracelet.
She retreated further inward, feeling she was now taking her long-awaited turn. The belief manifested with a physical brutality, prompting her to gasp for air.
The issuance from her throat was a mix between a hoarse choke and a wheeze. The foreignness of it struck like a slap to her face.
As a Special Victims Unit detective, she’d met many victims, each of whom had faced a life sentence of bearing the burden of the horrors they had suffered. She had taken it upon herself to peddle hope to them by insisting they could take their power back.
Her ragged breathing melted away in the face of those past promises. The words she had uttered so many times were not meaningless. Kate had truly believed them. She had looked up to every person who carried such a burden, because each of them had given her hope. Their example proved no matter what came your way, you could persevere.
The epiphany she had found illusory in the comfort of Dr. Wissel’s office in San Francisco now revealed itself in the infinite emptiness of this nameless place. The real reason she had been drawn to law enforcement was not simply because she wanted to help people. She desperately needed them as much as they needed her. She had been on a subconscious quest—hoping to learn the secret to triumphing over cruelty from those who had been blessed with the ability to endure. Beyond pain. Beyond suffering.
Her work allowed her to experience what she never seemed to get enough of—the indomitable human spirit. It could not be demeaned or diminished by mere experiences. It was not transitory, nor was it a commodity. It could not be bought, sold, or stolen. No matter what, it endured. Even in death. Like her little sister Candace.
Opening her eyes in the darkness, Kate stared into a growing certainty. This was not about whatever might happen to her. It was about finding justice for Haryati and saving the girls. No matter how Kate’s fate was about to play out, she had to continue to fight.
Clenching her teeth, she rose to her knees. Resolve building, she reached out blindly. With nothing before her, she inched forward. Right knee, left knee. Right. Left. Right.
A loud metallic squeaking sound, akin to a rusty door hinge opening, reverberated through the emptiness. At the same time, the surface beneath her began to dip forward.
She came to an immediate stop.
The sound petered away and eventually faded. Pulse pounding, she pulled her right knee backward then the left. The sound rang out again, as the surface drew level once again.
She was on something, but what it was and how much immediate danger she was in, had to be determined. Kate dropped onto her rear end.
Perhaps if her arms were not long enough …
She gently raised her right leg and probed the air in front of her. Just as she was about to extend the limb completely, her toes made contact with cold metal. Keeping an isometric hold on her muscles, she carefully probed the obstruction. It was almost the full width of her foot and ran vertically. The edges were smooth and rounded, like a pole.
Moving her foot to the right, it slipped off the poll, encountered dead air, then hit another pole. This time she worked her way up and down the length of the obstruction. It had been fitted into the surface upon which she was balanced.
Shifting her weight, Kate repeated the motion over and over again. Each time she moved to the right she encountered the same situation. When she was confident, she had made a full three-hundred-sixty-degree rotation, her suspicions were confirmed. She was in a cage, but one entirely different than those the girls were held in. She had not seen anything like it in their room.
A faint scent reached her nostrils—entirely unpleasant, but distinctive. Oil. Like the kind used to fuel lamps. She raised her chin to try to confirm it, but the aroma disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Rising to her knees, she placed her hands on the floor and carefully stood. With no idea what might trigger the platform to move, she inched her feet apart until they were separated by an arm’s width. Confident in her balance, she extended her arms upward. A metal roof hung about two feet above her head. Kate braced her hands against it, worried any imbalance might shift the platform beneath her.
With her arms separated in a V-pattern above her, and her legs positioned similarly below, a more recent memory came to the fore. The sight of Delford’s security badge as it had lain against the cage right before she blacked out.
Frowning, she pictured the Aaru logo as it had appeared in its topsy-turvy state. The sun which normally shone at the apex of the pyramid, had rested at the base of the inverted triangle. The exact opposite of the way she had seen it represented on Delford’s jacket, his badge, or the resort’s entry gates.
As she focused, her mind superimposed a bold outline over each of the geometric shapes. In a split second, the hypotenuse of the triangle disappeared. With only two sides remaining, it now resembled the letter “V” hovering above a circle.
The familiarity of the image seized hold of her consciousness. If only she could remember …
Calming her mind, Kate slipped into detective mode. Methodically, she started retracing the places she had been over the past few days. The Makah Cultural Center, the rental cottage, the coroner’s office, TekPharmaCel …
Kate’s heart dropped as the memory of Martin’s Cruther’s penthouse office took hold in her mind. Their last conversation, about context … she had mentioned the painting on his wall …
The stag’s head—interpreted loosely by the artist as a small circle with a “V” over it. Memories flooded her head.
The first time she had arrived at the security gate at Aaru. The guard … who had moved with the precision of ex-military.
The meeting with Hyland at the motor pool … discussion of the upcoming annual event—Oceana Week. His blatant refusal to their request to search the grounds.
Walking into the room with the cages … there had been far more girls than Kate had ever imagined. Why so many? Surely not for one man?
Cruthers’ last words to her … his use of the pronoun “we.”
And a longer memory … the research she had done into psychopaths during the Tower Torturer case. The fact they gravitated toward powerful positions where their lack of guilt, remorse, and empathy formed a guaranteed recipe for success.
A malignant thought seeped out of the darkness into the base of Kate’s spine. It crept upward with excruciating deliberation into her brain. It was a name familiar to most San Francisco Bay Area natives—Bohemian Grove.
Kate winced at the enormity of what lay before her. If she was right, it meant certain tragedy for her and every one of the girls in those cages.