The Black Chronicle (20 page)

              It took Mary four attempts to punch the address Jeremy had given her into the navigation app on her phone. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking in weeks. Even during the tiny bit of sleep she was fortunate enough to get, she shook.

              How was she going to tell her sister Wendy that she'd known all this time where Cindy was? And that it's literally the worst place imaginable?

              The irony that her life had turned into some kind of slasher movie was not lost on her. Though she tried her best not to blame herself for everything that was happening, and if she could convince herself of that, maybe she could convince Wendy and Jeff also.

              Stuffing her hands into her pockets just to keep them steady, she stepped out of the elevator and into the main lobby. She tried her best no to look at the undercover FBI agent posing as the concierge.

              Should she say hello? She always said hello to Brian. But this wasn't Brian. If it was just a new guy would she still say hello?

              “Hello,” she chirped, as she made a beeline for the front door.

              The noise of downtown Los Angeles hit her like a rogue wave, washed over her and smothered her. There were cars parked and cars driving by. People walking and people standing along the bus stops. Windows, windows everywhere. Everywhere there were windows in storefronts and office buildings and the tall condominiums sparsely planted here and there, shooting up and away from the endless and epic concrete sprawl of L.A as if trying to reach the stratosphere where the air is still fresh.

              She looked down at her watch as she made her way to the parking garage across the street. It was seven on the dot. She was to leave at seven fifteen, go the coffee shop on Palm Way and Crescent, get a coffee then exit through the back door where a black sedan would be waiting for her. Then she would be taken to a hotel where she would meet with Jeremy, Agent Costa, Wendy and her husband Jeff.

              She reflexively stopped shy of the darkness of the parking garage and looked around. She knew there were more FBI Agents following her; protecting her, but didn't know what they looked like. If she caught someone glancing at her through the windows of the car as they drove by or as they walked passed her, she had no way of knowing if it was them, or
him,
or just some guy. She had long, long ago grown accustomed to men looking at her but suddenly that early teen panic of being leered at by every male she passed came crashing down on her harder than the first day of high school.

              Once inside the familiar confines of her car she was able to breath again, though she kept looking in the rear view half expecting Mister to be back there waiting for her, like that classic movie cliché.

              Driving up Oweiga road was an exercise in mental fortitude. No music, windows up, doors locked, hands strangling the steering wheel like it was Mister's throat. Red light, green light, left turn, right turn, the digitized voice of her GPS. Twenty minutes later she was at the coffee shop. She parked on the street like she was instructed and went inside.

              Stepping into the cafe, trying her best to seem as casual as possible she wondered if there were FBI agents in there too. It was a surreal feeling to have to wonder who around you in the world were real people, that is to say, themselves, and not pretending to be someone else.

              She got her coffee, medium black, and went the back where she found the exit and sure enough the black sedan she was told would be there, was. She dumped the coffee in the can on the street and got in.

              “Mrs. Stien. I'm Agent Green,” the man driving the car said. “Please keep your head down until we are on the freeway.”                                           

              Mary slouched down in her seat and tried not to cry. 

              The acid churning in her belly surged up her throat and sat sourly in her mouth no less than three times as she rode the elevator up to the hotel room where the meeting was to take place. The dinging of each floor sounded as loud as church bells. The final toll rang, crushing her soul, filling her with dread.

Mary stepped out into the hallway and straightened out her top, looked at herself in a mirror hung over an elegant console table across from the elevator. She wanted to run. She wanted to leave and never come back. Turn off her heart and her love for her sister and her niece and just treat it as though they had died. She had enough money to just leave. To just leave and mourn them as though they were dead and refuse to play the mother fucker’s game altogether. But she couldn't... She
could.
But just couldn't.

              “Miss Stien, right this was please.” The large agent said and led her down the hallway. He took a key card from his jacket pocket and opened the door.

              A  heavy set man who looked the part, greeted them at the door. His mouth was pushed into a half smile, half grimace.

              “I'm Agent Costa. But you can call me Jim. Please come in Mrs. Stien.”

              It was a very nice suite with a full living room and dining area and a long hall that stretched down to the two bedrooms.

              Jeremy was sitting on the couch doing that thing he does so well. Quietly brooding. Mary thought that if brooding was a competitive sport he would be the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world. The way he would just sit there, with his handsome face pulled taunt like a drum and his intense eyes focused still on some invisible point gave the impression that entire galaxies of thought rotated in his mind and he had nobody to share them with.

              Mary felt a sudden twitch of happiness when he looked up at her. His eyes were smiling but his mouth was frowning. She hoped he really was a brilliant as she sensed he was. But she could also see there was something very painful, something very cold and sad inside of him. She prayed that he would be able to hold it together long enough to help them all get through this.

              “Hello Mary. Can I get you anything?” He asked, standing up. “There's coffee.”

              “Coffee? God, no thanks. What's the opposite of coffee?”

              “Midazolam,” he said “but unfortunately we have none of that here. How about some water?”

              “Sure,” she said sitting down on the warm spot on the couch he just vacated.

              As Jeremy went to get the water Agent Costa sat down on the armchair across from her.

              She nodded and smiled politely and looked down the hall anxiously in the direction Jeremy just left in.  

              “Have you spoken to your sister?”

              “No. Where is she? I thought she was going to be here.”

              “They'll be here soon. We wanted to speak with you first. Have you told anyone about any of this?”

              “No,” she said, staring down at her feet.

              “Mary, listen to me. It's okay if you have. I know how scared you are. You'd be crazy not to be scared. And I wouldn't blame you if you needed someone to talk to but for your safety and the safety of your family we need to know
exactly
who else knows about this.”

              “Nobody knows.” She insisted. “Mr. Costa, I don't have a ton of people in my life. Nobody I would trust to keep a secret like this anyways... If this didn't involve Cindy I would have told my sister about it... but it does and so I didn't.”

              “Okay,” he said, and seemed a little more reassured. “Okay good.”

              Jeremy returned with the water and she took it and sipped gratefully.

              “Has there been any more contact?” Costa asked.

              “No.”

              “Anything out of the ordinary? Someone hanging around the building?”

              “I've hardly left my apartment and when I have I can't walk ten feet without feeling like someone is about to grab me, or kill me, or something.  I've been scared to even order a pizza.”

              “I understand,” the agent said, though she doubted it. 

              “What are you going to tell them?”

              “Your sister and her husband?”

              “Yeah. What are you going to tell them? Do they need to know how long I've had the video?”

              Costa and Jeremy exchanged a look as though they were communicating telepathically.  

              “Well, I'm sure they know how long their daughter has been missing. And because of this video we now know why. I'd say how long the video has been in your possession is irrelevant, as far as they're going to be concerned.”

              Mary didn't have the presence of mind for this she just wanted a straight answer. And besides, she wouldn't be asking if she thought it would be ‘irrelevant’. It wouldn't be irrelevant to her if it was the other way around and she knew her sister and husband wouldn't think so either.

              “So you don't have to tell them or you do?” She asked.

              “If it's what you want, we can tell them you received the video in the mail yesterday and contacted us immediately.”

              “Yes, yes that's what I want.” She said in between long gulps of water. “Are you going to show them the video?”

              “No. Definitely not.”

              “Good,”

              “Do you have any idea why he would be targeting you? Do you know anyone who you suspect could actually be this guy?”

              “I have no idea... Has Jeremy told you what I do?”

              She felt ashamed even bringing it up. She had never felt embarrassed of her career before but there in that room with these serious men, in this context, it made her feel... like child.

              “Yes. You're an actress who specializes in horror films.”

              She was thankful for him framing it so tastefully but still she felt the need to clarify.

              “I was,” she said. “I run a magazine now.” But then had to add a reluctant concession. “About horror movies.”

              “So you think it has something to do with your work?” The agent asked.

              “Do you have any idea how many sick fucks have contacted me over the years? I've had a lot of twisted shit mailed to me. Messages. Emails. Pictures... Nothing like this though. Nothing real.”

              “Well it would be hard to imagine this is pure coincidence. He’s probably familiar with your work somehow. The video was sent to your magazine’s office after all.”

              The connection was likely but Jeremy probably just didn't want her to feel responsible for what was happening because he added:

              “He may be aware of her work but all of Mister's targets have up to this point, as far as we can tell, been random.”

              “Yeah,” Costa agreed. And then as if he understood Jeremy's intention added, “It's possible Mister discovered your career after the fact.”

              And then came the knock at the door.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck
, was all she could think. Her stomach tightened and tears began to moisten her eyes.
Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

             
Costa got up and answered the door. After a few moments she could hear her sister's Wendy's voice.
Oh fuck, oh fuck of fuck.

             
When Wendy and Jeff entered the room Wendy was already crying and for sometime it seemed. Which immediately caused Mary to lose what tiny scrap of composure she still held on to and began to cry also.

              Wendy and Jeff both looked down at Mary, the confusion stifling the sadness for a brief moment.

              “Mary? What are you doing here?” Jeff asked looking around at everyone in the room.

              Mary didn't know what to say. She just shook her head back and forth and cried.

              “Mr. and Mrs. Summers, please take a seat.” Costa said and motioned to the small sofa.

              “She's dead isn't she? My little girl is dead?” Wendy blurted out in between sobs.

              Jeff had his arm around her, trying to comfort her as best he could, while looking to each person one by one, searching for answers in their faces. It was clear he understood there was something much more complicated than he or his wife realized and so he did his best to keep his composure until he heard them out. He took Wendy gently to the couch and sat her down.

              “Okay. You asked us to come here. The fbi Asked us to come here. Well we're here. Where is our daughter?”                                                         

              Mary blanked out. She listened, but with a peripheral mind like the way you hear things while you're sleeping and they become a part of your dream. They told Wendy and Jeff about Mister. She glanced their accusing glares but kept her eyes down on the floor mostly. There was nothing she could say. Nothing she could do. Wendy and Jeff began to cry with such primal agony that she just couldn't take it. She let herself out on the balcony to get some air before she suffocated on her guilt and her shame and her sadness.