INK: Abstraction (5 page)

“You just don’t
want
to get it, do you?” McNab looks at me with
frustration.

“This just sounds
like a strange string of events.” I await their rebuttal.

“We launched a
full-scale investigation. We worked day and night looking for
information and explanations. It’s always best if we rule out
all of the mundane possibilities before we delve into the
paranormal.”

Carl stands from his
chair and begins pacing behind McNab.

“That seems
wise,” I offer.

“After exhausting
every other possibility we started digging deeper and discovered that
the last four families that lived in that house had experienced some
sort of upheaval or tragedy.” McNab has a genuine expression of
remorse.

“What kind of
tragedy?” I’m intrigued, but I’m not buying it just
yet.

“Eli, the sort of
tragedies isn’t what’s important about this story. The
important thing is what we learned about Miranda,” Carl offers.

“She showed up on
the scene and offered to assist us with the investigation. She had a
real smooth touch and came off as harmless. We were really convinced
that she genuinely was there to help. Even Carl wasn’t able to
read her, which was slightly suspicious, but we were so focused on
the case we didn’t actually care.” Carl looks at McNab
with admiration as he tells the story. They exchange a glance when
McNab pauses.

“She talked to me
about the organization she worked for and said that they were looking
for people like me and that I should learn more about it,”
McNab recalls. “I met with them while Carl continued the
investigation. I went to Chicago. Miranda didn’t join me, I
went alone, and while I was occupied with them, she
eliminated
the threat.” McNab wraps the story up too quickly, and I still
have unanswered questions.

“What do you mean
she ‘eliminated the threat?’”

“She killed her.”
Carl walks further from where we are sitting as though he were
ashamed to be near us.

“Killed who?”
I ask.

“Miranda killed
Mrs. Wilson, the client’s wife,” McNab says softly.

“She killed her.
How do you know this?” I’m dubious at best.

“Because she was
the only one who had access and opportunity; she also as much as said
that she did,” Carl says, drawing closer.

“But why would
she kill her? I really don’t understand.” I really don’t
get what they are trying to tell me.

“Because this
organization is bad news, they work under the guise of the “greater
good,” when in fact all they are doing is murdering innocent
people and then possibly exacerbating the problem. They seem to think
that when something has been bound to a person the only real way to
unbind and stop the activity is to kill the host or the beacon,
whichever the case may be.” McNab is adamant.

“What do you mean
by beacon?”

“A beacon is
someone that is attracting spirits, demons or angels,” Carl
informs, though I’m sure he knows I’m not going to
believe this.

“So Harry is
involved in an organization that sanctions killing people if they
have a problem?” I don’t believe it.

“I honestly don’t
think Harry is aware of what’s happening, I believe that.”
McNab defends him. “I think Harry was brought in as a control.
My guess is that he’s brought in to solve a crime in the event
that there is any other explanation other than possession or some
other paranormal activity.”

“So Harry doesn’t
know?”

“No, and I have
to figure out how to tell him that Miranda should not be trusted.
That she was likely sent to investigate and eliminate if necessary.”
Carl sits next to McNab with worry clouding his eyes.

“So what’s
our next move?” I ask.

“We watch. No
move, just watch.” McNab’s beaten down by the impotence
of the situation.

“Well, if there’s
a chance she would try to hurt Shay I’ll do what it takes to
protect her,” I assert.

Carl’s eyes wash
me in pity. “Eli, this is a little more than I think you could
handle. But rest assured I’ll be watching Miranda, and now that
I know how she operates, I'll be able to protect Shay from her.”

Trish clears her
throat. “Eli, there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?”
I ask, heading toward her.

“Mr. Preston.”
As she says his name Preston appears in the doorway.

“Hey Eli.”
He has a sad smile on his face.

“Todd.” I
motion for him to come out. “What’s going on?”

McNab and Carl quietly
follow Trish back into the house.

“Eli, I just
wanted to stop by and see how things were going. I’ve not been
able to get ahold of Harry or you.” He’s unable to make
eye contact with me.

“We don’t
have any news on Shay.” I get to the point. I’m a little
irritated with him how things have played out. “What’s
really going on? I seriously doubt you’re making a house call
out of concern.”

“Do you really
think I don’t care what happens?” He’s hurt.

“Do you?”
He’s not my boss anymore. There was a time when I had a lot of
respect for him, wanted to follow in his footsteps and be just like
him. That's until he lost his backbone and isn't even helping to find
her. He's treating her like a fugitive, like a criminal. I’ve
lost respect for him, and honestly, if I ever become that much of a
cog in the machine, someone kill me.

“Of course I do,
Eli, I’ve been friends with Harry Baynes for years. I drove him
to the hospital when Katherine went into labor with the twins. I
loved those girls. I'm Shay's godfather for Christ's sake” He
trails off and looks past me.

“Then stop
letting Glass go after her. He isn’t exploring any other leads,
how can he get the real killer if he’s focused on her? I also
know that her disappearance isn’t being treated seriously. I
don’t like his implications that she’s just skipped town.
We both know that’s not the case.” I take a breath from
my tirade.

“Wow, you’ve
grown some real balls, or did they come with your new partnership at
Roth, Carmichael, Eddins, and Brunner?” His tone bites when I
hear the words laced with disappointment. “Oh, and Walker.”

“Todd, you can’t
judge me for my decisions. Besides, I was about to
lose
my
job.” I stand and walk to the edge of the deck and lean on the
railing.

“You don’t
know that. I was going to protect you, Eli.” He joins me at the
railing. “I just had to follow the rules, since you weren’t
heeding any of the warnings. You were reckless and I had to pull you
back.”

“It doesn’t
matter now.” I blow out a remorseful breath. “Has Glass
heard anything about Shay?”

“No, but I did
want to tell you that your name came up today.” He looks at me
with an eyebrow raised.

“Really?”

“Yes, Glass is
coming after you for the Ringgold murder.” He just says it
plain and simple.

“Of course he
is.” I run my fingers through my hair. This should concern me
more than it does. “I’m not worried, I didn’t do it
and I know that the evidence shows I didn’t. Not to mention I
seriously doubt they can place me here in town during the T.O.D.
window.”

“I just wanted to
make sure you were ready and that you let your new partners know that
you may have some
complications
.” His meaning is
layered.

“That sounds a
lot deeper than one trumped up murder charge,” I challenge.

“It is what it
is.” He looks straight ahead out into the yard.

“Let me show you
out.” It’s time for him to go; I don’t have time to
play this game of hidden meaning.

“I know the way.”
When he reaches the back door he stops and says, “Please have
Harry call me.”

“Harry’s a
big boy and can answer his phone if he chooses.”

My eyes close with the
weight of everything coming down on me. I’m only concerned
about finding Shay and bringing her home. Hearing Carl talk about her
is tearing me up. The thought of her in pain and scared rips through
me like a cold wind.

I have to find her. I
have to bring her home and I can’t be concerned about Miranda,
Preston or Glass. I only need to worry about Shay.

Bailey

“
This
is not what we discussed. This isn’t the way it was supposed to
be.
” The Specter's voice carries in my mind, but not like
it used to. I'm stronger than him, he can't control me like he
before. It would seem as though I'm the one in control as the power
surges through me. He needs
me
to kill to feed him.

“It doesn’t
matter, I’ve taken her for my own,” I answer out loud.

“
No.
”
The Specter's voice roars through my mind, reverberating from one ear
to the other. “
She is mine, but I was willing to share her
for a time in return for your help. But this isn’t how things
are supposed to go. When I said we needed to eliminate Detective
Glass I meant murder, not mind games. How is she supposed to trust
us? She knows it’s you.
”

“No, she
doesn’t,” I defend. “Besides, you aren’t
seeing the big picture. I’m going to rescue her and put Glass
behind bars and he will never be a problem again.”

“
Bailey, I
chose you because you were a clean slate. You and I could have been
great together. We could have been with her and been happy.
”
The Specter’s voice sounds more abrasive the angrier he gets.

“I’m
planning on going over there tonight and 'rescuing' her. I’m
going to bring her home and she’s going to be with me,” I
proclaim, bursting with pride at my master plan.

“
You really
think this is going to work? You think that now you’re going to
be able to replace two lifelong loves? You are a fool.
” The
Specter manifests in front of me and spirals around me, leaving a
trail of black fog behind him. His anger runs away with him and I can
see it flaring in the deep, black core of him.

“It will work and
I will have her. You are just jealous because she’ll be mine
and I did it without you.” I goad him into silence.

After awaiting a
response that never comes, I call out to him. He never answers.
Eventually I go back to sketching Shay and I entangled in an embrace.

Shay

He’s
been gone for a long time. My brain is still trying to process the
fact that Glass did this to me. I know he hates me and wanted to
arrest me, but I never thought he was capable of something like this.
My mind wanders off to even darker territory.
Am I the first one?
Has he done this before? Will he do it again? I have to stop him.

The zip ties have cut
into my wrists and ankles deeper than the rope ever had. I’m so
sore from struggling to get out of them. There’s little comfort
that I’ve been able to see the day come and go. Now through the
small window I’m able to see the sky changing to a mixture of
orange and brilliant reds as the sun begins its departure, making way
for the darkness.

Dust dances in the
beams of light streaming through the small window. The light is a
double-edged sword, allowing me to see night, day and what's around
me. I can also see what's above me—chunks of meat dangling from
the ceiling like a gory mobile of flesh.

There's no sign of an
intact body of my short-lived companion. I can’t decide if
that's a good or bad thing. At least I don’t have to constantly
stare at his lifeless body and know the face of the man who I heard
take his last breath.

My imagination runs
wild trying to put a face to the terrified screams like you would a
radio announcer. His screams still resonate in my memory like a
haunted choir of bells. It’s probably his flesh hanging there,
so I guess it isn’t much different than having his body here.
Giving it more thought, I think seeing his body would be worse.
Wouldn't that make him more human? More real? Imagine going into the
grocery store and seeing the hollowed-out carcass of a cow when
you’re buying that pound of hamburger. I think I just became a
vegetarian.

Carl hasn’t come
back for some time. The loneliness is magnified now that he’s
been with me. It concerns me that he hasn’t been back, and I
wonder if something happened or what could possibly be keeping him
from coming back.

I rotate my head to
relieve the strain of sitting in the same position for hours on end.
My neck bends forward to stretch my spine and something glints off
the light streaming into the room. The box cutter that Glass had, he
must have dropped it.

Hope surges through me
at the prospect of being able to free myself. I've hit the jackpot,
and I think my guardian angel has finally sobered up and is giving me
fighting chance. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to
get the cutter. This is going to require me to tip the chair over,
scoot over there, get it and cut the ties on my wrists. I’m
weak, but I know I can do it, I have to.

Wiggling the chair, I
scoot it over closer to the razor, trying to angle myself so that
when the chair falls over, the knife will be near my hands. I hop
three times, scooting over, and then lean my weight to the right to
bring the chair crashing down. I land on the knife and there’s
a sharp pain in my side. I can’t tell whether the pain is from
the knife or the fall. With as much energy as I have to expel, I
bounce forward, lining my hands up with the knife. I scoop down
several times with it just in reach of my fingertips. Over and over
I grab for it, but it slips further out of my grasp. Finally, long
after the sun has gone down, I’m able to wrap my fingers around
the blade. The sharp edge cuts through my fingers, bringing pain that
I ignore.

The plastic is so rigid
it takes a long time to saw through and I make several cuts on my
wrists in the process. I doubt I’ve done more than just a
series of shallow cuts, but they sting like a bitch from my sweating.
I’m rewarded when I hear the snapping of that last bit of
plastic that was hanging on. There's relief in knowing I'll be able
to sit up and stop breathing in the grass clippings and dirt on the
floor.