Hybrid (6 page)

Erik tucked the necklace into his inside jacket pocket. He looked at her more softly this time. “This little girl is only a few years younger than my own daughter. Her mother feels absolutely helpless and the police can't do anything for her.” He paused, looking away. “She needs help, and I don't want to fail her as well,” he whispered quietly as he looked away.

She reached over and gently put her arms on him, allowing her hands to touch his powerful chest and arms. “Erik, if anyone can pull a rabbit out of the hat, it's you. If there's something to find, I know that you'll find it.”

He looked down into her face and smiled. Shanda always seemed to know the right words to say to make someone feel better. “For her sake, I hope you're right. Because right now things look very bleak for that little girl.”

Erik made his way back to his apartment. He'd been carefully watching for the black sedan, or any other car that followed too close, but his ride home proved to be uneventful. He pulled into Madame's parking lot and drove to the back of the building where his small apartment was located.

He glanced at his wristwatch as he opened his apartment door; he decided that he could spend some time at the Hopedale Park. Steve had claimed that there was nothing there, but Erik needed to see for himself. Somebody had to have missed something. He figured that he could grab a quick bowl of soup, help clean up after the lunch crowd, and be at the park by 2:00. He could look around for at least four hours before having to head back.

* * * *

Carol Carlin enjoyed running in the Hopedale Town Forest. The maze of trails offered a variety of courses and challenges for her. Her objective today was to break a nine-minute mile. She knew she would never be a world-class runner, but loved running for the sake of the exercise and a chance to get away from the humdrum of daily living.

As she progressed deeper into the forest, she had the feeling that she was being watched. Carol looked over her shoulder, but saw nothing. She picked up her pace along the winding trail.

She continued for another fifteen minutes, still with the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her. Carol turned to look over her shoulder again, causing her to miss seeing the divot in the path. She stepped into the depression and fell heavily on her shoulder. A sharp pain shot through her leg, and knew immediately that she had sprained her ankle.

“Damn!” she cursed aloud as her ankle throbbed with pain.

She crawled over to the edge of the path and untied her shoe. Her ankle was already swelling; she realized there was a good chance that she had broken her ankle. She knew that she was too deep in the forest to make it out without help. Her best chance of connecting with somebody would be to make it to a well-used walking trail.

She struggled to stand, leaning heavily against a tree she was near. She took one step forward on her good leg, and then dragged her bad leg behind her. Every motion sent a searing wave of agony through her body. She felt the perspiration rolling down her head as she struggled to endure the pain. As she took her fourth step, her leg gave out and she collapsed on the trail. Carol screamed out in agony as more pain rocketed through her body. She stood again and tried hopping on her good leg, but after fifty yards her other leg cramped up.

She sat down under a large oak tree to recover some of her ebbing strength. She could imagine her boyfriend laughing at her as she told him her tale of woe when she finally made it out of the woods.

She became aware of a drastic change in the light. It was almost as if someone put a dimmer switch on the sun. Her flesh became cold; she looked down the path and saw someone approaching her from a distance.

“Hello?” she called out. “Can you help me? I think I've broken my ankle.”

The figure was silent, but kept approaching. Carol felt a wave of fear sweep through her body; she struggled to her feet and began hopping away from the figure. She had gone only thirty feet, when she stopped. She didn't want to look back, but her body instinctively turned her head in the direction of the dark figure. She expected to see the figure closing on her, but it was gone. She still had that creepy feeling, but at least her pursuer was gone.

Carol laughed to herself. “You wimp. You're jumping at shadows now.”

She turned to head back down the path, not realizing that this mistake would be the last she ever made. As she hobbled down the pathway, a dark form leapt out from behind a large pine tree, tackling her. She tried to struggle, but her attacker was too powerful. Although her attacker was on top of her and she was wrestling with him, she couldn't make out his features.

She watched in horror as a black claw reached down and grabbed her throat in a grip of iron. She grabbed the arm that had her throat and was astounded by the intense cold of her attacker's flesh. She felt the pressure building on her neck as her attacker closed his hand tighter around her throat.

Carol knew she was going to die the moment she hit the ground. She knew instinctively that her life was over. She felt the pressure on her throat increase, and she began to see black spots hovering around the corners of her vision. Then, she felt her throat crush. The rest of her body went mercifully numb. She tried to close her eyes, but couldn't.

Her last sight was to finally see the face of her attacker, to see the red pupiless eyes and that malicious evil grin as it squeezed the last remnants of her life. Carol's last thoughts were not of herself, but of all she was leaving behind: Her boyfriend, whom she knew intended to marry her; her family, friends. Would they find her out here? Would they anguish over never knowing, or would she turn up as a half-eaten corpse somewhere?

* * * *

Carol's attacker dragged her lifeless body deeper into the woods. It had fed deeply upon her fear. The fear of an adult was not nearly as satisfying as the fear of a child, but the creature still hungered and needed to feed.

* * * *

Erik had spent two hours carefully walking every inch of Hopedale Park. He checked out both bathroom facilities and the grounds surrounding them. Nothing—no overlooked item, no hidden shard of cloth, no mysterious footprint.

Erik had spoken with some of the children that were at the park; a few that he spoke with were actually there the day of the disappearance. As Stephen had claimed, they saw nothing, but spun the same elaborate fairytale he'd heard earlier.

He walked over to a park bench and sat down, pausing momentarily to adjust the holster carrying his 9mm Ruger. Erik didn't feel that he was in any danger—it was just from his training. His mentors had beat it into his head; the one time he didn't have his gun would be the one time he found himself in a situation where he needed it. He normally wore his twin Wilson Super 45s, but a shoulder harness and intimidating weapons were too much for this atmosphere. A concealed pants holster was much better for public gathering places. The last thing he needed was to cause more tight nerves.

He could sense that the parents there were hyper-cautious about watching their children. He imagined Brianna on a swing or near the monkey bars, and pictured himself being just as tense and nervous.

There had to be something, he just wasn't seeing it. He reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out the plastic bag containing the child's locket. Erik was reluctant, but he took the locket out of the bag and dropped in into his open hand. He instantly felt the sense of fear and dread. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to focus only on the locket in his hand.

Erik accessed a part of himself that he kept hidden from others—latent skills of telepathy and something more, a sense of nature and the supernatural. He opened himself up to all the sensations and phenomenon that were around him, and then took that reception and focused it on the object in his hand. He began to mumble in an alien language that he instinctively knew but never understood how he knew it, or where it came from. Shanda had told him that it was a Sorcerers’ Tongue, inherent in all people with their specific gifts.

“C'mon, talk to me,” he whispered.

He felt himself being drawn, pulled toward the road, away from the park. He continued walking, crossing the street an heading up the street. He still felt that he was moving in the right direction. He was almost a quarter mile away from the park and still walking. The further he got from the park, the faster his body propelled him. The essence of absolute terror still shrieked in his mind; the child was frightened beyond all rational ability. Her fear was so strong that he actually felt his own flesh crawl.

He continued to walk until he came to a protruding yellow gateway, the entry into the Hopedale Town Forest. As sudden as he was pulled to this area, the inkling that pulled on him stopped. Erik realized he was trembling, actually shaking. The girl's terror had been so powerful that it seemed to be emblazoned upon the piece of jewelry.

He again caught the scent of something foul, a scent that was unfamiliar. Erik held up his right hand in front of his face; it still trembled. He felt lightheaded and had to sit down on the side of the road. He leaned his back against a yellow railing. He placed his face in his hands and closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the emotions passed into him.

He slowly opened his eyes, staring into the sand and debris that had accumulated on the edge of the road leading into the parklands. If he hadn't been looking down he would have missed it completely. There, half buried in the sand, were three shiny objects. Erik picked up a nearby twig and stirred up the debris.

“Damn, I was hoping this wouldn't pan out,” he whispered to himself.

The objects were buttons. Clinging to one of the buttons were tatters of thread and a small piece of cloth. Erik guessed that the buttons were forcefully ripped from a garment. Erik, carefully making sure he didn't touch the objects, scooped the fabric shards, thread, and buttons into a small handkerchief that he carried in his back pocket.

Erik was playing a long shot, but he would need to actually touch the objects. If this was evidence, he would have to turn it into the police immediately and he didn't want his fingerprints and body secretions corrupting a potential piece of evidence. He would have to show this to Mrs. Reynolds tomorrow. Only she could shed more light on his find.

He stood up, feeling a little better, and headed back toward his truck. If the girl had been taken forcefully to this area, he had little hope for her being alive. He also didn't understand how someone could abduct a child in broad daylight, force her all the way here, and no one witness a thing. People jogged, fished, and rode their bikes in the parklands constantly. Yes, there were remote sections of woodland higher up in the mountain, but there was also a maze of paths leading up to that wilderness area, usually with people on them. Somebody had to have seen something.

The more he considered the odds, the less likely he believed that what he had found had any bearing on Lisa Reynolds. Erik knew he had to play out the odds, no matter how remote. To ignore even the slightest possibility would be irresponsible. Erik was sometimes shortsighted, even reckless on occasion, but never irresponsible when it came to somebody else. He would bag the objects and have Mrs. Reynolds examine them. At this point, it was all he had.

* * * *

Erik was seated at his favorite booth in the back of Madame's nursing a glass of water and a bowl of vegetable beef soup when Shanda walked into the restaurant. She spotted him, walked over to his booth, and seated herself.

“Hi,” she began. “I decided to stop by and pay a social call. Also, I'm hungry; and since you've always bragged about the food here, I figured I'd give you an opportunity to buy me dinner.”

“I'm touched,” Erik responded. He gestured to one of the waitresses and she immediately walked over.

“Alissa, my friend here will have a cup of vegetable beef soup, a grilled chicken breast sandwich, steamed vegetables in place of French fries, and a medium Coke, lots of ice.” Erik recited the order he gave every night for his own dinner.

“Hold the veggies, keep the fries,” she corrected. “Plus an extra pickle slice.”

“Excellent.” Alissa smiled as she headed toward the kitchen.

Shanda looked around the restaurant, admiring the unique décor of Erik's favorite haunt. “I can see why you like this place so much; it must be nice to have your office in such an interesting place.”

“It puts people at ease,” Erik answered.

Erik and Shanda exchanged polite, pleasant conversation for nearly half an hour, discussing a variety of topics. She was finishing off the last of her fries when Erik decided to cut through the pleasantries.

“Shanda, it's been great to see you again, and I've enjoyed the dinner conversation, but considering that I've been here for almost six years and this is the first time you've come here, I tend to think this isn't a social call,” Erik gently hinted.

Shanda blushed. “No, it's not. Curiosity got the best of me. I was wondering if you had any success with your case so far. I had this hunch earlier today that you found something.”

“Actually, I did,” he replied. “I won't know much until I meet with my client tomorrow.”

Erik reached into his pants pocket. He pulled out a small sealed plastic bag and tossed it on the table.

“I found these. I'm sort of hoping it's a bogus lead, because if it's not, things suddenly don't look very good for our missing person.” He took another sip from his second glass of water.

Shanda picked up the plastic bag and studied its contents. She looked up at Erik, who seemed to be very distant. “How did you manage to find these? More importantly, what makes you think they're related to this girl's disappearance?”

“I spent over two hours combing the park area; I couldn't find anything, not a single clue,” Erik began. “I was getting desperate, so I followed my instincts. I wound up at the Hopedale Town Forest, over a quarter mile down the road. I sat down by the entry gate to collect myself, and when I looked down, there they were.” He pointed at the sealed plastic bag. “Can you tell me if they're hers?”

Shanda looked at the bag and whispered to herself. She clutched the bag to her chest and held it tight. Shanda looked up at him after a minute, tears welling up in her eyes.