Connection, p.3
Connection, page 3
“Yeah, well if he does...” Tommy slammed a fist menacingly into his other palm, leaving no need to finish his sentence.
Julie rolled her eyes. “Good luck with that one.”
“Yeah, well a guy can dream.” He fingered the tape dispenser on Julie’s desk. “So, when are you going to go have that drink with me?”
“How does—never—sound?” Julie raised an eyebrow. “Unless Marcy is planning to come too.”
“Eh.” He waved her off. “My wife doesn’t understand what it’s like to be a teacher, you know? Doesn’t get how tough it can be.”
“Well,” Julie said unsympathetically, “I’m sure she would if you took the time to share it with her.” She glanced at him. “Ya think?”
“Maybe. Who knows.” With a sigh, Tommy stepped back from the desk. “I’m going to head out. Have a good day. I’ll see you next week. It sucks that we have to come back a week earlier than the monsters.”
“Welcome to Teaching 101.” Julie watched him leave the room with a small wave. “What a schmuck,” she muttered, turning back to the remaining posters she had bought over the summer. The posters were filled with words of encouragement for her students, as well as amusing little anecdotes for life—sixth grade style.
In less than an hour, the room was completely finished. Julie was pleased that she would be able to enjoy her week with Skylar, a week she very much looked forward to. With this thought in mind, Julie gathered her belongings, shouldered her purse, and snatched her keys from her desk. She flipped off the lights and closed the door, then went to the office to let the principal know she was leaving.
“Hey, Bob,” she said, leaning into the office. It was so strange to see him sitting behind his desk dressed in Bermuda shorts and a tank top, thinning hair covered by a baseball cap. Her boss looked up at her. “Thanks for letting me in, I appreciate it.”
“No worries.” His pen tapped on the tablet he was scribbling on. “I had some stuff to do today anyway. You outta here?”
“Yeah. See you next week.”
“Have a good one,” he said, returning to his work.
Julie dug her sunglasses out of her bag as she pushed out through the double doors of Woodland Elementary. Her little white car was one of three in the parking lot. The other was Bob’s sedan, and the third, an unoccupied blue van with the logo of a plumbing company. She gave it a disinterested glance, then took the tiny security remote into her hand, the car chirping to life as she pressed the unlock button.
Julie pulled open her car door and the oppressive heat from inside wafted out at her. She tossed her purse inside then suddenly was grabbed from behind. The sound of her cry was muffled by the iron-like hand that covered her mouth. She felt hot breath against her cheek and a strong body behind her.
Feeling herself being pulled off her feet, Julie struggled, kicking wildly, the heel of her tennis shoe making contact with a shin. She heard the short grunt from her attacker, but the grip only got tighter. She tried desperately to peel the fingers from her mouth, but then her arms were pulled roughly behind her, wrists held by a single calloused hand. She was hauled backwards, feet kicking uselessly as she was half-carried, half-dragged the short distance to the van. Her arms were released for an instant as she heard the metallic slide of the van door. Stark fear trickled down her spine and Julie began to kick and thrash wildly, doing everything she could to keep from being put into the van. Pain radiated through her hip when it smacked against the side of the van as she was heaved inside.
Tears sprang to Julie’s eyes when the van door slid into place with finality, the hand on her mouth not moving. Arms and hands still free, she began to claw frantically at the arm, reaching back behind her trying to pull hair, gouge out an eye, anything that might free her. Her assailant didn’t make a sound, said not one word. Julie’s struggling was cut off as a rich, dark pain engulfed her head, her vision going black around the edges. She was having trouble breathing; the hand over her mouth partly covered her nose, as well. She fought weakly, sensing that if she lost full consciousness, it was all over for her. She tried to fight, digging desperately toward the fading light, but to no avail.
Julie was gently laid on the flooring of the van, right next to the plumber’s wrench that still had her blood and bits of her hair on it. Breathing heavily, looking at the scratches that bloodied his arm, Sergio made his way up between the front two seats of the van and buckled himself in behind the wheel. Glancing around the parking lot to be certain no one had seen, he started the engine, shifted the van into gear, and carefully signaled before he turned out onto the street.
****
Skylar looked out the window for the umpteenth time and then returned to his pacing. His bag was packed, filled with all his favorite video games to play with his aunt. His shoes were already on, too. He hated shoes, but his dad told him Aunt Julie would be there by five-thirty, so he was ready.
“Skylar,” Matt called from deeper in the house. “Did you grab your toothbrush?”
The boy ran up the stairs, feet pounding as he ran into his bathroom and snatched the Oral-B from its holder on the wall. When he scrambled back downstairs, hoping that maybe Aunt Julie’s car would be in the driveway, he saw his father standing at the front window, looking out then glancing at his watch.
Matt met his eyes. “She’s still not here.” he said. The boy looked disappointed. It was nearing six. He would give it a few more minutes before he called Julie’s cellphone. She was notoriously on time, and in fact, usually early. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon, buddy,” he said, ruffling his son’s hair.
Chapter Three
The clock struck seven as Matt flipped his cellphone shut. No answer at Julie’s house, no answer on her cell, and no answer at the school. Grabbing his keys from the key board next to the garage door, he called out, “Skylar, lock the front door and get in the car!”
Sharply disappointed that Aunt Julie hadn’t shown up and not understanding the gravity of the situation, Skylar did as asked, sulking as he made his way toward the garage door. “She didn’t come,” he said, throwing himself into the back seat of the car and belting himself in.
“I know, buddy,” Matt said, belting himself in behind the wheel. “We’re gonna find out why.” They drove the streets of Woodland toward Julie’s house. Everything looked quiet, locked up tight. “Skylar, run up there and ring the doorbell,” Matt said, eyeing his sister’s house. The dome light flashed on as the eight-year old climbed out, scurried across the manicured lawn, and bounded up the stairs to the front door. Matt watched him reach up, press the doorbell, then stand bouncing on the balls of his feet. He could barely make out the boyish voice as he called his Aunt Julie’s name. Skylar rang again then turned to face his father’s SUV, shaking his head. “Come back, son!” Matt called out.
Back on the trail again, Matt drove to Woodland Middle School, where Skylar would be starting classes in two weeks. He drove around the building, looking for something, anything, that might give him a clue. His heart fell when he spotted Julie’s white Miata in the teacher’s parking lot. Pulling up beside it, he turned off his SUV. “Stay in the car, son,” he said tersely, letting himself out.
The car was quiet, hood completely cool to the touch. He tried the door handle on the driver’s side, surprised to find it open. That, in itself, was very wrong. Julie loved that car and never left it unlocked. He saw Julie’s purse in the passenger seat and nearly fell to his knees. “Oh, god,” he whispered, heart sinking.
He hurried back to his car and grabbed his cellphone, having to redial the three digit number four times before his shaking fingers would dial correctly.
“What is it, Dad?” Skylar asked.
“Hang on,” Matt said, holding the small phone to his ear. “Yeah, I need a policeman here right now. I think my sister’s missing.”
The seven minutes it took the police to show up seemed like the longest seven minutes in Matt’s life. He sat on the hood of his car, Skylar curled up in his lap.
“Get in the car and stay there,” Matt said into the boy’s ear, lifting Skylar off his lap as he got to his feet. The squad car pulled to a stop in front of Matt’s and Julie’s cars. A tall man stepped out of the black and white, putting his hat on as he pushed the door closed.
“Evenin’,” he said, walking over to Matt. “Are you Matt Wilson?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Officer Barrow. Tell me what’s going on.”
“My sister’s missing.” Matt did his best to hold it together as he told his story, starting from the last time he had spoken with Julie that afternoon. The policeman was attentive, writing down the details as they were given. After Matt finished his account, the officer, scratched his chin, re-reading some of his notes.
“Alright. Here’s where we stand, Mr. Wilson. Your sister is a grown adult. She’s twenty-eight, not some kid. The problem is that so many cases of folks disappearing are nothing more than the person not being in the place they’re expected to be. Did she maybe run off with a friend or boyfriend?”
“You mean the one she filed a stalking report on this afternoon?” Matt was growing angry. “That’s not Julie’s behavior. I’m telling you, she’s disappeared, and I want to know what the hell you guys are going to do about it!”
“Sir, I need you to calm down—”
“There’s no way I’m going to calm down! My sister is missing!”
“Sir,” Officer Barrow said, hands raised in supplication, but he stopped, noting something on the ground two parking spaces away from where Julie’s car was parked. In the fading light, he removed a small penlight from his shirt pocket, squatting as he shone the small beam on the anomaly that caught his attention. The droplet had dried, but the beam caught the deep, rich red.
****
The night was filled with red, blue, and white emergency lights, and the squawk of radios punctuated the air. The parking lot was filled with units, and a tow truck was loading the white sports car to take it back to the station for processing.
Detective Grace Cowan spoke with one of the crime scene investigators, the swirling lights glinting off the badge that hung around her neck. “I remember this woman,” she said, looking at the driver’s license that was in the purse left in the car. “She was in the station earlier today.” The African American woman recalled seeing the petite blonde waiting, as Detective Cowan now knew, to file a report against her ex-boyfriend. She had already spoken with the responding officer who took the initial report from the brother of the potential victim. Looking at the scene now, the white Miata heading down Freemont Street and only a small bit of blood remaining, she couldn’t help wondering what had happened in the parking lot. CSI had taken samples of the blood, which would be sent off for testing. Was it Julie Wilson’s? Who knew.
“Detective?” one of the officers said, stepping up beside Grace. She turned to him in question. “We’re just about done here. Anything else before we head out?”
“Nah,” she said, waving him off and surveying the scene one last time. “See you back at the station.”
Without another word, the officer gathered up his supplies and crime scene kit, and began to load up.
“So, what do you think of all this, Gracie?”
Grace looked up at her partner, Brian Wong. He adjusted his tie as she turned her attention to him. “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath, smelling the night air. “Something isn’t right here.”
Brian chuckled. “You would say that. Personally, I think this chick went off with a new boyfriend. Maybe that’s why the old one’s following—he’s pissed that she’s got someone else.”
“And the blood?” Grace said. Cops were skeptical by nature, but Brian was downright harsh.
“Could be anybody’s.” He shrugged. “Some kid riding around the parking lot today, fell and skinned his knee.”
“And the fact that Julie Wilson’s purse—including her wallet, license, and house keys—are still in the car? An unlocked car.”
“I dunno. I just don’t think you need to get your panties in a twist yet.” Brian walked toward their car to grab a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment. That was always his signal that he was finished with an investigation.
Grace could only stare after him, disgust curling her lip ever so slightly. She had lost respect for the man long ago. He had come onto the force as a cocky upstart. In the eleven years since, he had worked his way through the ranks. Seven years his senior and with four more years experience on the job, Grace didn’t have much patience with him anymore. She had learned ways to ignore him while still working alongside him. Most had. Brian Wong had few friends on the force, but it didn’t seem as if he minded. As Grace watched the slight Asian man light the tip of his smoke, she thought it was quite tragic, really, that he was such an ass. Brian was highly intelligent, but lacked the gut instinct that Grace had. He called it her woman’s instinct, but Grace felt it was more a matter of paying attention to what was around her. Things weren’t always perceived visually. If Brian didn’t see it with his own two eyes, or hear it with his own ears, it didn’t happen.
Grace had once gone to a medium at a town fair to have her fortune read. The woman, Mystic Robin, told her that she felt all cops were psychic in their own way. Perhaps…but either way, Grace knew there was nothing more that could be done in the school parking lot. It was time to pack up and head back to the station for the shit-load of paperwork that would keep her late again.
****
When Matt arrived at Julie’s house, everything was exactly as he knew she’d left it: not a thing out of place, clean, and kid-friendly. Skylar’s video game system had already been set out, ready for the insertion of his favorite games. The one thing that troubled Matt the most was walking in to find two desperate dogs. Unable to wait any longer, one had already peed in the corner, while the other nearly clawed through the glass to get out into the backyard as Skylar opened the door to let them out. Both their water and food bowls were empty, something Julie would never have allowed. From the beginning, she had fed them at precisely the same time every morning and every evening. Repressing his despair, Matt loaded Skylar, and Bonnie and Clyde into his car.
Taking one last look at the small, neat house, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb. Damn it, Julie. Where are you? Glancing in the rearview mirror, Matt could see Skylar, head leaning against the glass, hand absently petting a needy and visibly anxious Bonnie. He knew his son didn’t fully understand what was going on, for which he was thankful. Even so, the disappointment oozing off the boy in waves made Matt feel sad.
“Hey, kid, want to play Mario Brothers when we get home?” he asked, meeting tired hazel eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
Skylar shook his head. “Nah.”
“How about some Dairy Queen? Get you one of those cones you like, dipped in the strawberry stuff.” Matt offered, hopeful. Skylar shook his head. With a heavy sigh, Matt turned his attention back to the road, his mind abuzz with what he needed to do when he got home. He should probably make some calls of his own to Julie’s friends and co-workers, anyone who might know anything. What he wanted to do was go hunt Ray down and beat the living shit out of him. The only reason he didn’t was because he couldn’t leave Skylar alone, and he wasn’t about to take his little boy along to witness that.
As Skylar disappeared upstairs with Julie’s two dogs, Matt stayed in the living room, pacing and constantly glancing at his phone, though he knew in his gut that Julie wouldn’t be calling. All his own phone calls had been made; no one knew a damn thing. Matt walked over to the front door, staring back at his reflection, the night beyond making the window work as a mirror. He took in the light brown hair that needed a trim, and the dark shadows that were green eyes, just like Julie’s.
Stepping out into the warm night, Matt hugged himself, looking up at what could be seen of the stars. It made him think of when he and Julie were young, growing up in the country lanes of Pueblo, Colorado. They would sneak out to the corn silo and climb the narrow ladder up the tall, metal building. They’d find comfortable places to perch at the top and stare up into the night sky, trying to count stars or figure out where a falling star might land. Being seven years older, Matt had tried to explain to his younger sibling just exactly what the night sky was made up of, and that it was not crushed Oreos, as Julie thought it was.
He smiled at the memories, a sad smile. He would have given a lot to have his wife Lori by his side at that moment, putting an arm around his waist and filling him with the logic of her Capricorn mind. Looking up into the heavens again, he sighed. “I need you tonight, Lor.”
Chapter Four
The stacks of newspapers had been arranged so that the dates were in order. Chronology was important in collecting. Next, the bottles had all been taken from the shelves and washed with extremely hot water and soap, drained, and dried to perfection.
Sergio sang along with his La Traviata soundtrack as he stirred the big pot on his stovetop. The smell was nauseating, but his guests needed protein. His dog scratched and whined at the back door, perhaps to get away from the stink. “Stop it, Romper!” he called to the mutt, who stopped the scratching but not the whining. Turning back to the pot, he smiled. “Only the best for them.”
He turned off the heat, continuing to stir with his other hand. After a moment, he brought the wooden spoon out of the pan, brown contents plopping from the spoon as he brought it up to his nose. Wincing at the strong smell, he dropped the spoon back in and removed the pan from the heat.
Sergio scooped one of the cans from the trash and eyed the label. It stated that the contents were full of protein and vitamins, just what every happy, healthy dog needed to live a long life.
