Wonderland (31 page)

FORTY

V
anessa had tried calling Xander Cameron’s cell phone three times, but he wasn’t picking up. She then called Nate Essex, pulling him off surveillance on Oscar Trejo’s house. She told him to go to the Wonderland dorms to see if he could find the boy her daughter was supposed to be hanging out with. If they weren’t there, maybe someone there would know where they were.

“Wake everybody up if you have to,” Vanessa said. “It’s my kid. If she’s there, you have my permission to embarrass her on my behalf for scaring the shit out of me.”

“Sure thing, Deputy,” Nate said. “And don’t worry, Oscar Trejo went to sleep right when he got home. He went straight upstairs, then all the lights went out. Pete’ll keep watch. I only live three blocks away from here. I’ll run home and grab my car and head straight to the dorms.”

“Good man, Nate. Thanks.”

“It’s your daughter, Deputy,” Nate said. “Whatever we need to do, we’ll do.”

She and Jerry had gone directly to the beach after Katya’s, only to be informed that the bonfire party had ended at midnight on the dot, according the town employee whose job it was to clean up the mess. And no, he did not remember a girl fitting Ava’s description being around.

“Sorry, but all those kids look the same to me,” he said to Vanessa and Jerry. He could not have been more unhelpful.

Vanessa was struggling not to panic, but it was getting harder and harder. She might not have been so alarmed, except for the fact that all she’d done since moving her family to Seaside was work missing persons cases.

“Jerry, I’m going to lose my shit,” Vanessa said. They were sitting in her unmarked trying to figure out their next move. Jerry’s car had been left at Katya’s. “If she’s been taken—”

“She hasn’t been,” he said. “All the missing persons cases have been boys, fitting a very specific physical type—tall, blond, eighteen. Ava’s fourteen, female, with dark hair. Whatever this is, it isn’t that.”

“Then what is it?”

“She’s a teenage girl and she lied to you about her whereabouts. That’s all. We’ll find this Xander Cameron, and he’ll tell us. If he doesn’t know, we’ll talk to every single person at Wonderland. We’ll run her phone records. We’ll trace every move she made.” Jerry offered her a sympathetic smile. “And don’t forget, it’s Miss Ava. She’s far from a stupid girl. All those crime shows she watches, all those horror movies? They’ve made her savvier than most; she knows the dangers out there. She’ll be okay. We’ll get her home in one piece so you can ground her for the rest of eternity, don’t you worry, honey.”

Vanessa’s cell phone rang. It was Nate Essex. “You found her?”

“Just Xander Cameron,” the young officer said. “He was in his dorm room, sleeping.”

“Shit. Does he know where Ava is?”

“He says he doesn’t, Deputy.”

“Bring him into the department, anyway,” she said. “I want to question him.”

“I figured you would, which is why he’s sitting in the back of my car,” Nate said. “We’ll meet you at PD in ten minutes.”

Nine minutes later, Vanessa was walking so quickly into the department that even Jerry, with his long stride, had to jog to keep up with her. Nate Essex had stuck Xander Cameron in an interview room, and was heading back to resume his surveillance of Oscar Trejo’s house.

“You want me to wait out here?” Jerry asked. “I’m a civilian, after all.”

“No,” Vanessa said. “I need you.”

He nodded, knowing nothing more needed to be said. He followed her into the small room where Xander Cameron was waiting for them. The boy was half awake, slumped into the chair with his eyes mostly shut, his phone in front of him on the table. He sat up with a start when the door slammed shut.

“Am I in some kind of trouble?” Xander said, looking from Jerry to Vanessa and then to Jerry again. Her friend had subtly switched into cop mode even though his Seattle PD days were long behind him. He was standing differently, straighter somehow, and the expression on his normally cheerful face was unreadable. “The cop who brought me in said you were looking for one of my friends, but I already told him I don’t know where she is. I gotta get back to the dorm, I got an early shift tomorrow.” He stifled a yawn.

“Do you know who I am?” Vanessa asked.

“You’re . . . a detective, or something.” Xander’s eyes dropped to her belt, where she’d clipped her gold badge. “The other officer said you were in charge.”

“I’m Deputy Chief of Police Vanessa Castro.” She took a seat across from him. Jerry remained standing. “I’m Ava’s mother.”

“Oh
hey
.” Xander’s face visibly brightened. “Yeah, she said you were with the police, I think that’s so cool. And it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry, but I honestly have no idea where she is. We were supposed to meet at the Clown Museum, but when I got there, this guy told me that she’d gone home already.”

“What guy?”

“The janitor, I think,” Xander said. “I was surprised Ava even talked to him. I think she complained about him before, but he seemed nice enough, so I might have got them mixed up.”

Vanessa looked at Jerry, the name coming to her a second later. “Carlos Jones. You sure you didn’t find anything on him?”

“I did my standard check. Nothing came up.” Jerry looked upset.

“Describe him to me,” Vanessa said to Xander. “Be as detailed as you can.”

“Um, let’s see . . . he was short,” Xander said. “Like five six, maybe five five. Very stocky, broad shoulders, muscular. Short dark hair, dark eyes, kind of had a gap between his two front teeth.”

“Ethnicity?”

“Mexican? I don’t know . . . you said his last name is Jones? That’s not a Mexican name, but yeah, he looked Mexican.” Xander scratched his head. “Oh, and he had a neck tattoo. A red rose with black leaves, and beside it was the name Nora. Written in script.”

Vanessa pulled her keys out of her pocket and handed them to Jerry. “My computer login and password are on a sticky note inside the locked top drawer of my desk. The key’s on the ring. The software is the same as what we used in Seattle.”

“I’m on it.” Jerry left the room.

“So Ava told you about the creepy janitor,” Vanessa said. “And yet you believed him when he said Ava changed her plans and went home?”

“I . . .” Xander gestured helplessly. “He didn’t seem creepy to me. I mean, she and I had kind of an argument recently, and we just started talking again, and I thought we were cool. But when the janitor said she went home, I thought maybe it was her way of telling me to get lost. I mean, that’s something girls do. They get all, you know, passive-aggressive.”

Vanessa sighed. Xander Cameron didn’t strike her as the smartest kid in the world, but he was right about that.

“I’m guessing you argued about Bianca Bishop?” she said.

The kid’s eyes widened. “She told you about that?”

“No, I heard it from another person.”

“Awww, no, that’s not supposed to get out.” Xander sank into his chair. “Bianca’s going to kill me. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. I can’t believe Ava would tell—”

“Watch what you say about my daughter,” Vanessa snapped. “Remember why you’re here. This isn’t about you at all.”

The ounce of patience she had for this young man, who was handsome and tanned and impossibly blond, was disappearing rapidly. He had the classic “Wonderland look,” going by Glenn Hovey’s definition, and a thought occurred to Vanessa then.

“How long have you been sleeping with Bianca Bishop?” she asked.

He looked mortified. “Since the beginning of the season.”

“Who started it?”

“She did.”

“Are you aware that Aiden Cole, also known as Homeless Harry, was someone she’d slept with, too?”

“What?” Xander frowned. “No, she didn’t tell me that, but it explains why she was kind of upset the day they said who he was.”

“Are you aware that there are three other Wonder Workers, all the same age as you, all with the same look as you, who’ve gone missing over the past eight years?”

“Well, I heard about the Wonder Wheel Kid . . .”

“Blake Dozier, yes. There’s also Kyle Grimmie and Tyler Wilkins.”

“Tyler?” Xander’s head snapped up. “She mentioned someone named Tyler once.”

“In what context?”

“Well, we were, you know . . . we had just finished.” His cheeks reddened. “And she said I reminded her of someone named Tyler. Apparently we both made the same . . . noises. She thought it was cute. I didn’t like that she said that. I didn’t want to think about other guys she’d been with.”

“Who else did she talk about?”

“I dunno, we talked about a bunch of different stuff,” Xander said. “We talked about this guy who works with her in the office, who wants to leave to run a restaurant. She was kind of upset about that.”

Oscar.
“Go on.”

“And there’s this guy at the police department who pretty much does anything she says. They had a thing a long time ago, but he’s still into her, will do anything for her.”

Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. “Who? Carl Weiss? Earl Schultz?”

“No, it was someone who used to be a Wonder Worker. Danny something.”

“Danny? I don’t know of anyone named—” Vanessa stared at him. “
Donnie?
”

“That’s it. Donnie,” Xander said. “He worked at the park for a few summers. Apparently he was obsessed with her, took it hard when things ended, kept trying to do all kinds of weird stuff to get her attention. Every time something happened at the park, he’d make sure he was the cop on the scene, and I think she was telling me about him so that the same thing wouldn’t happen to me. I mean, she said what we had was special, but I don’t know if I believe her now, although the sex was amazing . . .”

He continued to talk, but Vanessa had stopped listening. Her mind was swirling as she tried to process it all.

Donnie? Detective Donnie Ambrose had been one of Bianca’s special Wonder Workers? What did that even mean? He didn’t even fit the profile . . . or did he? The young detective kept his hair clipped so short she’d never given much thought as to what his hair would have looked like longer. And Donnie hated the park. Donnie hated Bianca Bishop.

Didn’t he? Or was Bianca Bishop the girlfriend he’d stayed in Seaside for?

None of this made sense.

The door to the interview room opened and Jerry popped his head in. “Need to talk to you.”

“Can I go?” Xander said, looking hopeful.

“No.” Vanessa followed Jerry out and shut the door behind her. She forced herself to focus on her friend. Whatever had happened between Donnie and Bianca Bishop would have to wait. Ava was the only thing that mattered right now. “What’d you find?”

Jerry handed her a printout. A black-and-white mug shot of a man fitting the description of Carlos Jones filled the top half the page, except his name wasn’t Carlos Jones. This man’s name was Alberto Ruiz. Short hair, dark eyes, rose neck tattoo with the name Nora in flowing cursive. He’d killed his mother when he was fourteen with a switchblade, and had spent four years in a psych ward until he was released at eighteen. He was the prime suspect in a series of violent rapes across Washington state and Oregon. His last known crime was two years ago, shortly before he’d started working at the park.

“This is a nightmare,” Jerry said, echoing Vanessa’s thoughts. “Every time I think Seaside can’t be more full of fucked-up, scary, violent human beings, it just gets worse.”

“We have to go to Wonderland.” Vanessa’s teeth were clenched so tight her jaw ached. Her daughter was in trouble, and it was taking every ounce of control she had to keep it together. She couldn’t let herself fall apart. Ava needed her. She had to get to Ava. “It’s the only place she could be. You bring your weapon?”

“Don’t carry one anymore, though right now I wish I did.”

“I have an extra thirty-eight special in the glove box.” Vanessa forced herself to breathe and speak normally. “Got your name all over it.”

FORTY-ONE

Under the Clown Museum

B
lake Dozier stared at the younger girl. After days upon days of not seeing another human face, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating, or if maybe she was just a mirage that his brain had conjured up because he was so thirsty for another human being.

She was staring at him the same way, as if she couldn’t grasp what she was seeing, either. He put a hand up, giving her a trancelike wave, and she lifted her hand and waved back.

And then she spoke.

“Hi,” she stammered.

“Hello,” he said. “Are you real?”

“Last I checked.”

Not more than fourteen or fifteen, she had messy dark hair and huge dark eyes, and was wearing a gray hoodie over what looked like a doll dress, right down to the petticoat. Her face was all cracked, and it was scaring him shitless, but it didn’t appear she was trying to scare him. She was like an antique porcelain doll come to life.

It was the hoodie that told him this was real. If he was dreaming, or hallucinating, she would have just been wearing the doll dress.

“Who are you?” she asked, sounding breathless, but before he could respond, her head cocked to the side, listening. “Oh god. Oh god, he’s coming.”

“Who is?” He continued to stare at her through the bars.

“Carlos Jones.” She looked back over her shoulder. “The janitor.”

The name meant nothing to Blake, but he could only assume that Carlos Jones was the man who’d snatched him and had been keeping him here.

“He tried to rape me and I fell down the stairs.” A tear fell down her cheek, cutting a streak right through what he could now see was makeup. “I don’t know how to get out of here.”

They both heard footsteps approaching, and she looked around wildly, panicking.

“Hide,” Blake said.

“Where?”

“There’s a corridor over there.” He pointed to the left of the dungeon. “Go there, crouch in the dark. I’ll stall him.”

“How—”

“Go
now
,” he said.

She disappeared into the darkness, and a few seconds later, a man dressed in a gray coverall materialized. Blake could only presume this was Carlos Jones. Like the girl had said, he was a janitor, and Blake vaguely recognized him from the park, even though they’d never spoken to each other. Carlos Jones wasn’t his captor. This man was much too short, and much too wide. But just because he wasn’t the one who kidnapped Blake didn’t mean he wasn’t still a villain in his own right. He hoped the girl stayed out of sight.

“What the hell is all this?” Carlos Jones approached the bars of the dungeon slowly, looking both confused and suspicious. “What the fuck kind of sick—”

“Help.” Blake kept one ear tuned to any sound that might emanate from the corner where the girl was hiding. “Help, please. I need you to let me out. I’m being kept here against my will. If you don’t help me, he’s going to kill me. I need you to help me escape and then we have to call the police right away. Hurry.”

“No,” Carlos Jones said, backing away. “No cops. Fuck that, no way. Whatever sick shit this is, I’m not getting involved.”

He turned and started running back the way he came, his footsteps growing more and more faint until they could no longer be heard. Blake waited an additional ten seconds just to be sure.

“He’s gone,” he called out softly. “You can come out.”

There was no response. Not even a sound. Blake’s heart sank. Had she gone? Had she left him here?
Oh god, please still be there. Please.

But then he heard rustling, like the sound of a petticoat rubbing against skin. She emerged from the darkness slowly, looking around, at him, at the cage, at the bars, and back to him again.

“What the
fuck
is this?” she said.

“Let me out and I’ll tell you.” He rattled the bars to keep her focused. “My name is Blake Dozier. Please, the key is on the wall right beside you. Please, please let me out. I have to get out of here.”

“You’re the Wonder Wheel Kid.” She spoke softly, walking toward him. “That’s why you look so familiar. Holy shit. You’re not dead.”

“What?” he said, not understanding.

“Your selfie,” she said. “Of you on top of the Wonder Wheel. It went viral and everybody’s been wondering what happened to you. They were starting to think you might be dead.” She took the key off the wall. “I’m Ava. My mom is the deputy chief of police of Seaside, and she’s been looking for you. Let’s get you out of here.”

She sounded confident, but her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the lock. Finally, she got the door open. She extended a hand and Blake stumbled as he reached forward to take it. The relief he felt was so powerful his knees almost buckled beneath him.

He felt the warmth of her palm, but before he could close his fingers around hers, he heard a loud snap. A sharp, hot, fierce pain emanated from somewhere in his midsection, and dropping her hand, he looked down in disbelief. A dark, wet spot was spreading fast over his purple Wonderland shirt.

The girl screamed as his knees finally gave out, and he collapsed to the floor of the dungeon.

It was cruel to have come so close to freedom only to die now, and the last thing he saw was the girl crouching over him, her face streaked with white makeup and tears, while his captor loomed over them both with a gun pointed toward them. His captor had never brought a gun with him before, at least not that Blake had seen, and he knew instantly that this wouldn’t end well for the girl, either. She held his hand and touched his face, then turned and said something to the captor Blake couldn’t quite make out. The dungeon was beginning to fade away.

Squeezing her hand with what strength he had left, he said the only word he could think of to say, the only word his brain seemed able to process.

“Run,” Blake whispered, closing his eyes. It was so cold down here, colder than it had ever been. “Run.”