INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) Page 16

  Through the fog, I hear a nasal voice. “Yeah, I have, but I’m still getting strange readings. We’ve never seen this before.” The body that goes with the voice emerges; this kid’s the poster child for geekdom. He’s holding a small black box with a series of lights flashing on it.

  Looking through the fog, I can see the bottoms of tripods and strange grids of light shining off different points. It looks like a Goth show at Halloween in here. “McNab, what is all this shit?”

  McNab doesn’t look at me; he’s busy surveying the room. “I don’t really have time to explain everything. I need to check all of the readings and see if I can figure out what happened to Shay.”

  “Sir?” Quag hands McNab a tablet with a series of graphs and charts on the screen. “Here are the initial readings. There are some very odd fluctuations here, the likes of which I’ve never seen.”

  McNab studies the tablet. “What do you make of this?”

  “There are multiple cold spots throughout the room. In a space this small, it seems to be an indication of a series of open portals or fissures. The EMF readings are off the chart, but only in this spot next to the bed.” Quag stands next to the bed and points to the floor.

  McNab nods, not looking up from the tablet.

  “The spectrometer readings are within a normal range, but the fluctuations aren’t,” Pitch chimes in.

  “What does all of it mean?” I ask anyone who might answer.

  McNab hands the tablet to Pitch. “I want all of these readings recorded. Do we have the voice recorders and IR cameras set up?”

  Pitch nods to three different points in the room. “There, there and there.”

  “Quag, get me the i3 infrared camera.” McNab is totally in control of the crew. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was impressed, but I’m sure they all have some fanboy hard-on for Mr. Paranormal. Carl is hanging back in the hallway.

  The smell in there is too overwhelming, so I join him. It’s not much better out here. “Pretty crazy in there?”

  Carl just nods, his jaw set tight with tension. “I guess McNab does this all the time.”

  Carl nods again. I look up at him, which is strange for me since I’m usually the tallest person in the room. “Are you okay?”

  He shrugs. He must feel responsible since he effectively left her alone and instructed me to do the same. “You know this isn’t your fault.” Not that I think it’s his fault directly, but whether it would have happened if he hadn’t left will forever be a mystery.

  “I could have stopped it.” Carl finally speaks.

  “Why didn’t you?” I ask.

  “Because I wasn’t here and didn’t realize this would happen.”

  “What exactly is this? I mean it seems like everyone has stopped looking for her, including me. Isn’t it just plausible that she went out the window?” There’s no way. The window hadn’t been disturbed, and neither had the flower beds or holly bushes right outside. It’s not as though Shay has developed the grace of a gymnast.

  He looks down at me with a hint of anger. “There is no need to patronize me. I let her down.”

  McNab is holding up some sort of box thing with a screen on it showing a blob of purples, pinks, oranges and reds. “Look at this!”

  Pitch and Quag gather behind him, looking at the screen. “Do you see this? Is it a replay or real time?”

  After studying the screen for a few minutes, Quag answers. “We can’t tell until we study the motions for repetition.”

  Peeking over them, I’m trying to see the screen. It looks like some kind of weird cartoon outline of a woman. “Pitch, I want you to do the analysis on this. I want an hour of data before we try to come up with any findings. Are there any EVPs?” McNab taps the screen.

  “Not yet sir, but we’re monitoring for them,” Quag says, tapping something on the tablet.

  “What is an EVP?” I ask.

  “Electronic Voice Phenomenon.” His tone is impatient.

  “What’s that thing?” I refer to what he’s holding.

  “This is a thermal camera. It records movement and temperature and extrapolates the two data sets to form the images.” He turns and looks at me. “Eli, I don’t have time for lessons right now. If we are going to get her back, we have to monitor fluctuations in this fissure. We may be able to send someone through to get her.”

  “Through to where?”

  “Carl, can you please take Eli to the living room and explain some of this to him.” McNab returns his attention to the bedroom. “Or better yet, Eli, why don’t you take a look at that backpack? I’m sure we’re both very curious as to its contents.”

  The backpack; shit, I had momentarily forgotten about it. Carl leads the way to the living room and explains to Harry and me what everything is and what they are trying to do. I can’t wrap my brain around all of this. Different dimensions, Shay entering some sort of alternate plane of existence and we have no real way to know whether or not we can get her back. My head is swimming and I can’t understand how Harry is taking all of this in stride. My eyes keep going to the backpack. Carl notes my discomfort and lack of attention. If he reads minds, he also knows that I don’t believe any of this shit. I don’t know what happened to Shay, but I’m going to find out. I’m going to find her.

  “You know, Eli, it doesn’t matter what you find in that bag. I know you didn’t kill Taffy,” Carl says quietly as he leans back on the couch.

  “What do you mean?” Harry looks from me to Carl.

  I release a long breath and start. “Harry, Rex vomited up a breast implant.”

  Harry’s eyes round out in shock. “What?”

  “Look, you have to believe me; I don’t know where it came from.” I plead with him.

  “What are your plans? I’m assuming you’ll be bringing this to Glass.” Harry’s tone is insistent rather than questioning.

  “I don’t know. There’s been so much happening since we discovered her missing I haven’t had time to think about it.”

  “If you want to keep your job, you’ll do the right thing and turn in this evidence.” He leans forward to drive his point home.

  “Yeah, well it’s a little late for my job.” My lips pull into a thin line.

  “What happened?” Harry asks, and Carl’s expression drops even more.

  “Preston suspended me, but he suggested I start looking for work elsewhere and I should forget any hopes I ever had of running for the D.A.’s office.” I run my fingers through my hair. It’s the first time I’m saying it out loud. This has been an epically shitty day. I look over my shoulder at the back door. It’s dark now and I can’t see the bottle, but I know it’s there.

  “Look, none of that’s important right now. We need to find Shay and make some decisions on whether or not we need to report her missing.” The hesitation in my tone causes the words to drag on my teeth on the way out.

  “I’m not sure what the best move is.” Harry rests his head in hands. “If we call her in missing, we have to wait 48 hours before we get any help. On the other hand if we call her in, since she’s a person of interest then Glass will be all over this.” He pauses, then looks up at me. “As her attorney, what would you recommend we do?”

  “I just want to find her. Damn the court, damn the police, I just want to know she’s safe,” I answer hastily.

  Harry gives me a stern look. “Eli, we need your level head right now. I know my feelings on how much of this is happening, and none of it is going the way I would want it to. People should call it in when someone goes missing and turn in evidence to a murder.”

  “My inclination is to not call in the missing persons. As far as the evidence, we need to turn it in. This is a direct line to obstruction charges.” I let out a breath. “Besides, Shay technically isn’t missing; I mean, she’s sending text messages.”

  Carl perks up, remembering. “Wait, I got that text too. But her phone was in the bedroom.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out her phone to scroll through the
texts. “She didn’t send any of the texts.”

  “What do you make of that, Harry?” I ask.

  Carl stands to get McNab. “There’s been so much happening that we haven’t had time to talk to McNab about the texts.”

  McNab comes from the hallway with his nose buried in a tablet. “I’ve been trying to work out the text messages, but I already knew she hadn’t sent them. We just have to figure out who did. More importantly, we need to figure out why they were sent and why everyone was supposed to congregate here.”

  A memory comes back to me. “‘The collection is almost complete. Only a few missing,’” I mutter out loud.

  “What was that?” McNab looks up from the tablet.

  “I don’t know, something I heard.” I’m really puzzled. I have no idea where it actually came from. It’s familiar, but fuzzy, like trying to remember something that happened when I was five.

  “Carl, I need you to do a deep sea dive on Eli.” McNab nearly barks the order to Carl, then turns to leave.

  “Whoa, what?” I protest.

  Carl looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “It won’t hurt.”

  “Hurt? What the hell is a ‘deep sea dive?’” I ask.

  McNab turns momentarily. “We need to find out what happened to you, why Carl couldn’t read you and what you remember from the encounter.” His phone rings. “You’ve got McNab, what’s got you?”

  He pauses, listening; and his face contorts in surprise. “Nigel, I need you to slow down.” McNab walks quickly for the door and steps out front.

  Carl is still looking at me. “Eli, this will only take a minute.”

  I put my hands up in front of me and stand from the couch, backing away from Carl. “Just explain to me what you are going to do first. Am I going to feel anything?”

  Harry is looking from me to Carl. “What did I miss?”

  Carl’s face drains of color and he sits back on the couch. “Okay.”

  “Tell me what you are going to do,” I say, still backing away.

  “I’m done.” Carl stands and heads toward McNab.

  “You’re done?” I ask, bewildered. “What exactly did you do?” I follow after him.

  We open the door, and McNab is on the phone giving someone my address. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” McNab hangs up the phone. “Eli, please call the guard gate and put Nigel on the approved list.”

  “Who’s Nigel?” I ask.

  “He’s a reporter, Eli, a reporter that has had contact with Shay. He just told me that Aiden tried to kill him.” His tone is deadpan; there’s no emotion behind it.

  “What?” I’m shocked. “Wait, we met a Nigel at the hotel. He was a reporter?” Now my head is swimming just trying to keep score of everything that’s happening in this moment.

  Harry opens the door to be in on the conversation. “What’s going on?”

  “Yes, and Aiden would want to kill him, but I don’t think this was Aiden. As a matter of fact, I know that it wasn’t. Aiden isn’t even in the country right now,” McNab answers. Carl stiffens.

  “So you do know where Aiden is. I’m very disappointed, McNab,” Harry says, pulling his mouth to the side in a grimace.

  “Yes, Harry, I do know where he is. He is somewhere that is keeping Shay safe. But he didn’t try to kill anyone, including Shay.” McNab defends his position. He turns to Carl. “What did you find, anything?” He cracks a smile, glancing in my direction.

  Carl’s demeanor remains stiff. “Yes, he’s been visited.”

  “‘Visited?’” Harry and I both say at the same time.

  “What the fuck?” I’m losing my patience with all of this now. “What do you mean by that?”

  Carl describes a scene. Someone whispering in my ear, and Trish slapping me. The memory comes back. “So what was that?”

  “Basically, you were visited by the Specter.” He looks from me to Harry, waiting for a reaction.

  “The Specter? From the comic?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Yes,” McNab answers. “Carl, as you know, has certain abilities. He can get a reading on people’s thoughts, but he can’t do that when the Specter is present. He can, however, extract memories.”

  I look at Harry. “Harry, are you buying into this?”

  “I don’t know; it all seems a little farfetched.” Harry gets up from the couch. “Look, this has all been a bit much. I’m going to go and see if I can find her. I’ll check in later.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep you updated.” I stand and give him a hug. He looks like he could really use one.

  “Eli, do the right thing.” He looks down at the backpack leaned up against the wall, then back at me. “Or I will.”

  Chapter 25

  Send Me a Sign

  Shay

  His eyes are boring into me with the familiar intensity that embodies Aiden especially when he’s trying to dodge a question. With his jaw set firmly, in spite of how he looks so frail and old, he seems strong and unrelenting. He has no intention of answering me. But I think I have every right to know. In the end, it’s his eyes that betray him, swirling with confusion and fear.

  My lids feel heavy and hood my eyes to shield me from his powerful gaze. I ask again quietly, “Aiden, please, I want to know.”

  Aiden inhales a fortifying breath. “Shay, please, I don’t think this is a good time.” He turns his back to me, looking out onto the water.

  “It’s the best time, because there is apparently a good reason that a man who professed his undying love to me tried to kill me.” My tone is sharp but still quiet. I know the quickest way to lose Aiden’s attention is to act too upset.

  “It won’t do any good for you to know, so just drop it.” He tries to get up quickly but is unsuccessful and needs my help up from the dock. As soon as he’s upright, he snatches his arm from my grasp. “I can stand on my own; I don’t need your help.”

  “Aiden.” My eyes widen with concern. “Please let me help. You don’t have to do this on your own. We’re in this together.” I try to wrap my arm around him, but he won’t have any part of it.

  “Would you stop feeling sorry for me,” he snaps, and then leans over on the railing of the dock for support.

  “Look, you can sit here and have your pity party if you want. But I’m not going to stop until you tell me why you shot me.” I fold my arms across my chest in defiance with my feet firmly set.

  Aiden’s head droops in defeat. He begins low. “I really just don’t know.”

  My head tilts in disbelief. “You don’t know? You shoot someone twice and you don’t know why.”

  He turns, squaring his shoulders. “I think I panicked.” That confession was hard for him to make. I can hear the anguish in his voice. His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he awaits my response. When I take too long, he tries to fill in some blanks. “There was a lot happening in those few moments. It’s kind of a blur. I still don’t believe it myself.”

  “How can you not remember why you shot me?” It’s so hard not to scream and lash out at him.

  “How can you not remember getting shot?” he fires back.

  “Because you fucking shot me in the head, asshole.” As soon as the words fall out of my mouth I regret them.

  Aiden can’t look me in the eye and hangs his head lower. “I’m sorry.”

  The wind begins to howl; it’s heavy with sorrow, as though despair itself has gone to seed. Aiden’s frail frame shivers in the cold. I wrap my arms around him. “I’m sorry Aiden, I just want to understand what happened.”

  He looks up at me with watery eyes that carry an incredible pain I’ve never seen before in him. It’s as though something fundamental in him has changed. “This is my fault, and I’m sorry for all of the pain I’ve caused you.”

  My embrace firms around him as much as I can without feeling as though I’m going to hurt him. “I know you are. I know you’ve never meant to hurt me.”

  He barely whispers. “I love you and need you to love me.”

  �
�I do love you.” My response is quick and reassuring.

  “How could you? Look at me. I’m old and can barely stand on my own.”

  “Aiden, don’t you think that every time I agreed to marry you that I knew one day you would be old and decrepit just like this?” I motion to all of him and continue with a heartfelt smile. “I made the choice to keep loving you. Not because of how you look, but because of how I know you can love. Because of what’s in here.” I rest my hand on his chest and watch his expression for enlightenment. “Because somewhere deep down inside I’ve always known we belong together.” My head falls at the shame of my own mixed feelings and half truth I just told in the interest of providing him with some hope.

  Aiden lets out a barely there whisper. “Shayden.” After he takes a few minutes to bring himself back to center, he pulls me down to the dock. “Let’s get some rest.”

  “What? I want to get out of here.” No way I’m going to actually sleep here.

  “I want out too, but I need to rest.” He lays back flat on the dock and motions for me to join him. His eyes plead with me in a way that has always been irresistible.

  “Fine, only for a few minutes, then we have to figure out how to get out of here.” I lie back reluctantly and lean my head on his chest lightly. His rib bones dig into my cheek, and I’m fitful at best trying to get comfortable. His breathing becomes regular and I can hear him snoring lightly.

  Aiden’s scent has always been soothing, and I’m hoping that tonight will be no exception. I inhale deeply, but the smell of sulfur and foul death fills my nostrils with its toxic blend. There is no familiar scent of comfort for me tonight, even though I’m lying with him.

  The roaring of the water and the tormented hanging from the trees crescendos to decibels of painful proportions, yet Aiden still sleeps soundly. My ear presses tighter against his chest in hopes that the sound of his heart will drown out the rest of the noise.

  My eyes close over trying to shut this world out, until the darkness washes over me in a sensation of relief.

  ***

  My surroundings have changed drastically. There is light in this place, and though it’s completely foreign, there is comfort in the sun kissing my skin with its warmth. I feel and smell clean, like I’ve just showered, and there is the sweet scent of Chickasaw plums in the air. September, I think, knowing they only flower in the fall. Last I checked, it was April. I scan the faces and landscape for a clue whether this is real, a dream or an extension of my personal Hell courtesy of the Specter. A reprieve, perhaps? Wouldn’t that be nice? Reaching up, I run my fingers along where the stitches were on my head and feel my hair is intact, not the shaved stubble it was. I’m still not totally ready to accept this as anything other than some sort of cruel joke designed to lull me into a false sense of security.