Dance For The Devil (13 page)

“What exactly happened at the club?”

“Elise... well, Elise was raped. A bunch of guys, I couldn’t see who, they all had costumes on. Look, Mr. Montclaire, I’m really tired and I feel kind of sick. I’ve told the police all about this, everything I know. Please, I’ve got to go home.”

“No, not yet, I need to ask –”

Before Jake could finish his sentence, Jason began to vomit. He retched again, the contents of his stomach spilling down his shirt, onto the pavement, splashing onto Jake’s pants and Cari’s shoes. A screech of tires, then Gil Vandercamp was there too, putting his arm around his son, guiding him to his car. “Always something,” Gil said, shaking his head. “These kids are enough to drive us crazy.” He was going to say something else, the words already tumbling from his mouth as he glanced at Cari, then stopped abruptly as if he’d been cut off with a knife. His nostrils flared briefly, doing a decent horse imitation, before he turned abruptly, hauling Jason away by the scruff of his neck. “Get your ass back to the office, Montclaire.”

“Friendly guy,” Cari commented.

Jake nodded, eyes narrowed as he watched Gil squeal from the parking lot, leaving behind the odor of burning rubber. “The illustrious Gil Vandercamp, Jason’s father and my boss. Until this morning, I’d have also said he was my good friend.”

“Strong personality.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him. Kind of odd that he’d show up just now.”

“Perhaps not.”

He waited for her to elaborate, and when she remained quiet, he asked impatiently, “Well, sense anything else?”

“I’d say he knows more about this than he’s letting on.”

“Which one?”

“Both. Jason was as nervous as a chipmunk, and daddy just about peed his pants when he saw me. He sensed my power and it bothered him. Jake, I’d like to see Gil again, as soon as possible, while his guard is still down. Can you arrange a meeting between us? Nothing obvious.”

“You think the Vandercamps have something to do with Amy?”

She shrugged. “Let’s explore all possibilities.”

Jake furrowed his brow. “Then let’s go to Marvelworks. That’ll kill two birds with one stone – I’ll show my face and you can interrogate Gil.”

**

The room was tiny, airless and dark. No... not dark, exactly, but her eyes were covered with a swag of scratchy cloth.

But her hands were free. Amy reached up and removed the blindfold. Light glared from a bare bulb suspended from the ceiling, forcing Amy to squint as she assessed the situation. She lay on a mattress on the floor, a thin blanket across her hips, no pillow. The mattress was mildew
y and stained, and she wrinkled her nose distastefully.

No windows. An earthy, subterranean coolness to the room, permeated by dankness linked only to spaces encased in soil. Okay, so she was underground. The walls were cement, unpainted, and aside from the mattress and the light bulb, the room was devoid of furnishing. Cell, she corrected herself. This wasn’t a room – it was a cell.

She had no recollection of arriving here. Nothing past the memory of last night’s calamity. The fall, the hospital, the ride home, then a deep, blessed slumber.

Now this.

What could it mean? Was Dad punishing her, relegating her to the basement until she admitted her sins? Amy shook her head. This wasn’t her basement, and Dad, despite her fondness for dissing him, was too decent to do anything this mean. Punishment wasn’t his domain, certainly nothing this creative. No, this definitely was not his style.

Her body hurt. She studied her wrist, wrapped tightly in Tensor bandage. She lifted the corner, alarmed to see dark bruising. A quick inventory: besides the wrist, which throbbed like crazy, her entire right side ached. Her jaw, forearm, ribcage, shin, foot. Even her toes hurt.

Amy shivered. She was cold and hungry – deliriously hungry. She thought about hollering to let someone know she was awake, then decided against it. The pain and hunger were easier to bear than the unknown.

She drew up the thin blanket, wrapped her arms around her knees and tucked in her chin, rocking slowly. Before long, she lay down in the same position, eyes pressed shut, tears trickling down her cheeks into a damp puddle on the mattress.

The door opened. Heavy footsteps echoed on the cement floor. Amy squeezed her eyes together even more tightly, afraid to look. The footsteps halted near her, observing and waiting. She felt the air stir as the intruder bent, heard the rustle of the coarse blindfold as he picked it up. Heard his breathing. A moment longer... then, abruptly, the intruder left. A click as the door locked shut, leaving her alone again.

Then another click.

The room plunged into total blackness.

Amy began to scream.
Not the dark!
She screamed until her throat turned raw and no sound came out. Then she just lay there, mouth wide open, lungs heaving, screaming on the inside, with only herself to hear.

**

A brief trip home to check on things, the chance to shower off the smell of vomit, the odor of despair. A cleansing wash to make him feel human again.

Jake hoped against hope that Amy would be there, knowing she wouldn’t. Carmen had strict orders to contact him the moment Amy returned, and Jake had been calling every half-hour... In case Carmen lost his cell number, although she knew it by heart. In case the lines were jammed and she couldn’t get through. In case an earthquake occurred, rendering Carmen senseless, unable to get to the phone.

He also wanted to see Skeeter, to be near his child, to breath the boy’s scent and hold him close. To both comfort and draw support. To protect his remaining child from every possible harm in the world. To get hold of Skeeter and never let him go. To take care of Skeeter like he should have taken care of Amy.

“No word yet?” Jake demanded.

Carmen shook her head morosely.

Skeeter was crying, and for the boy’s sake, Jake pulled himself together. “Hey buddy, it’s going to be okay.”

“Promise?”

No, he couldn’t promise. To deflect Skeeter’s question, Jake introduced Cari instead. “Skeeter, I have to grab a quick shower. Will you take Ms. Valentine to Amy’s room?”

“Why?” Skeeter sniffed.

“Because someone threw up all over my shoes and pant legs.”

“No, I mean, why Amy’s room?”

“Because,” Jake said, taking his son by the shoulder, “Cari is going to help us find Amy.”

Carmen looked skeptical. “How?”

Jake started to explain but caught a brief, almost imperceptible shake of Cari’s head. “Uh, Cari is an expert on teenagers,” he prevaricated. “At this point, I think we’ll take all the help we can get.”

**

“You’re very fond of your sister,” Cari stated a few minutes later. She was walking around Amy’s room, absently holding an old teddy b
ear, one Amy had since infancy.

“Uh huh. Sometimes she’s a pain in the butt. Well, mostly she’s a pain in the butt... but I still love her. When do you think she’ll come home?”

Cari stopped wandering and turned her full attention to the boy. “I’m not sure. Maybe five minutes, maybe a few days.”

“Maybe not ever?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Maybe I was, a little. Were you thinking that too?”

Skeeter nodded. He felt like a traitor.

“Did you hear anything weird last night? Or this morning?”

“Like what?”

“Anything different. Like voices, or footsteps. Funny sounds?”

Skeeter thought. “No.” Then, as an afterthought, “Sorry.”

“Hey, no problem.”

“But I want to help.”

“You can, actually. What is her favorite thing to wear?”

He went to the closet and came out with an old Mickey Mouse sweatshirt. “She likes this a lot, used to wear it almost every day. Now she just puts it on when she’s sad.”

“Good. That’ll do. Now a hairbrush. Do you know where she keeps her hairbrush?”

Skeeter went into an adjoining bathroom and returned with the requested item. “Perfect,” Cari said, running her fingers through the bristles to dislodge some blond hair. “What about a toy? Something Amy’s had for a long time?”

“That bear you’re holding. His name is Mr. Fuzz.”

“Ah ha. I thought this bear was important. Good, that should be enough. Let me just look around... Oh, perfect... here’s some chewing gum stuck to the night table. Do you think this is Amy’s?”

Skeeter wrinkled his face. “Yeah. Man, I get in trouble if I leave my gum around like that. Carmen has a fit. Why do you want something gross like that anyway?”

“I’m trying to sense who Amy is and her belongings help. She’s touched all these things. The hair from her brush and her dried saliva on this gum are a part of her. She wore the sweatshirt close, next to her heart, and she loved this bear – she probably slept with it.”

“Used to.”

“Good enough. These are positive things, and if I concentrate really hard, I might get a clue to where she is.”

“How?”

“Do you believe in magic?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Jake walked into the room and ruffled his son’s hair. “We need some magic
now, don’t we, Son? Listen, Skeet, I need to go to the office for a little bit, and I want you to come too.”

“And miss
the whole day of school? Sweet. You said I could only miss the morning.”

“Change of plans
.”

“Awesome. Is Ms. Valentine coming too?”

“You bet.” He turned to her. “Get everything you need, Cari?”

“Yes,” she said, “except for one gigantic thing: Sk
eeter, please call me Cari. Ms. Valentine sounds old-fashioned, almost as bad as ma’am.” Carmen entered the room, leaving them with the impression she’d been eavesdropping. But who could blame her? The poor woman was despondent. It was apparent she blamed herself for Amy’s disappearance.

“I feel nervous,” Carmen said shakily. “Can’t you stay here?”

Jake hesitated, weighing the suggestion. “I’d better go to Marvelworks, disaster seems to be striking everywhere today.” He paused. “On the bright side, it’ll give me something to do, because I’ll go stark raving mad if I stay here, waiting... doing nothing.”

Carmen nodded slowly, wringing her hands. Jake squeezed her shoulder gently, securing her promise to stay put, to phone immediately if Amy appeared, then he rubbed his eyes wearily. He’d been awake for twenty-nine hours and hadn’t eaten since last night.

Outside, daylight had turned to dusk, although it was only noon. Heavy clouds blanketed the island, low enough to touch and rain streamed relentlessly. It was one hell of a lousy day, yet somehow fitting – the weather a perfect match for his mood.

**

Marvelworks was not what Cari expected. The headquarters were smaller than imagined, taking up only one floor of a moderate sized building. The arcade intrigued her particularly. Street-level, filled with teenage boys despite the fact that school was in session. There was energy here... and something else, something she couldn’t define. When Skeeter elected to play here while Jake went to the third floor, Cari also felt the urge to stay. Later, she promised herself. Later she would check this place out, when she could give it her undivided attention.

Jake introduced Cari to his secretary, got her a cup of
tea and apologetically left her to her own devises. “I shouldn’t be long,” he explained. “I need to run over to Development, see if they’ve made any progress in determining which project to launch.” To Lisa, he asked, “Any word from Amy?”

“No,” Lisa answered, “and your housekeeper doesn’t want you to keep phoning, says you’re tying up the line.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “She’ll turn up, Jake.”

“Thanks, Lisa, I hope so.” He turned to Cari. “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

“Absolutely, take as much time as you need.” Cari meant it. She planned to snoop around a bit, see if she could uncover the vibrant energy emanating throughout the office.

The furnishings of Marvelworks were modern and simple. Cari began browsing in Jake’s office: it was sparsely furnished, meticulously tidy. A desk, leather swivel chair, file cabinet. Pictures of his kids on the desk. Pencil holder made from a macaroni covered tin can, painted gold. Plaster of Paris ashtray, indented with a handprint, signed
To Daddy, Love Skeeter, age-five
. A few plants, an abstract on the wall. So, this was the space he spent much of his life in. Interesting.

She told Lisa she needed to use the ladies room. Making an
effort not to appear nosy, Cari walked around, glancing in other offices, absorbing everything.

This strange energy was not consistent. She’d barely noticed it in Jake’s private office, felt it a little at his secretary’s desk, rather like the lingering odor of perfume minutes after the wearer has passed. Yet it was pervasive: to a varying degree it was everywhere. Strong now, torrid pockets in a swift current. Intensifying by the moment, she felt the excitement, felt the power.