The Longest Winter (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

S
he sat alone in the dimly lit room, her fingers passing over the beads of the rosary she held in her hands. She said her prayers as she passed each bead, just as she had done since she was young. It was something she knew by heart, something she could do without thinking. Things had changed and what had once been routine she made into a form of memory work, something to keep her mind sharp. She no longer followed the ritual by rote, instead she focused on every bead, thought of its position in the rosary as she rolled it between her fingers, thought of the prayer that came with that bead as well as those that came before and after, and tried to make a new ritual from the old.

She needed to keep her mind sharp and her faith sharper in order to survive. The rooms were still stocked with food and water, more than she would hopefully ever need. He had told her how much she could eat and drink per day; they were simple rules she had to follow in order to survive.

Her trust in him was nonexistent, and so she counted the stockpile several times, calculated the amount she would need per day and determined how much time she had. Then she took the daily amount and reduced it by twenty percent. She would be weaker as a result, but it would last longer. The red numbers on the wall told her when she should eat and drink, they told her when to sleep and they told her when to wake.

She tried to follow a standard schedule, but the absence of natural light and the boredom that she felt led to a different pattern. She slept as much as she could, hoping to pass the time unconsciously. After a few weeks she settled into a pattern of six hours of sleep followed by six hours awake. The waking hours she passed through prayers, memories that kept her company in the darkest hours and notebooks that let her record her thoughts – notebooks he had been kind enough to leave her.

She filled them with letters to her family, prayers to a force that had forsaken her, her fondest memories, her plans once she was free, and the disjointed thoughts that ran through her head. Her mind ran between the darkness and the light, thoughts hiding in shadows, darting from cover to cover, while others flitted about the flames and sparks, doing everything they could to stay close to the light.

She had only to survive. Her captivity was temporary, the duration marked by the numbers that counted down the seconds, minutes, hours and days until her freedom. It hadn’t even been a year yet and she still had nearly three to go.

It was a prison sentence, served entirely in solitary. People had been through worse, she told herself. If they could do it, so could she. She focused on her children and her husband, her parents and her friends. She imagined being reunited with them again. Did they know she was alive? Or did they think she was dead?

He had told her that this was all to teach him a lesson, to make him learn not to take things for granted. He apologized to her for it, almost as if he felt genuine sympathy for what he was doing.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said. “Your faith is strong, you will get through this. And when the time comes, the world you return to will be a very different place.” He spoke of prophecies and divine work, of destinies and rebirth, but she refused to listen. It was the ravings of a madman, and she paid no attention.

She sat in the dim light, the rosary in her hand, a prayer whispered on her breath, when she heard the sound of metal striking metal. Her ears perked up and she turned to look at the door, then cowered behind the chair she had been sitting on.

Her mind raced. He had returned, or someone else had found her. Or maybe his prophecies had come to pass and what stood at that door was unnatural in origin. She shook her head and forced the image from her mind. It had been hard for her to push the imaginings away; the longer she spent in her cage, the more the fantasies seemed like reality. They worked their way into her mind like tree roots. Once they had taken hold, nothing could stop them from forcing their way down into the soil; concrete cracked and rocks split as the roots took hold. Her mind weakened at the constant assault as images of angels and demons filled her thoughts.

She waited, hiding until she heard three rhythmic knocks on the door. They sounded safe to her, hopeful almost. She stood up and walked toward the door and raised her hand. There was a moment’s hesitation as she held her closed fist so close to the door she could feel the coldness of the steel. She took a deep breath.

Kat knocked three times.

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he television flickered for a moment before the football game was replaced by a breaking news announcement. Max didn’t even wait to see what the story was, he just changed the channel hoping to find the match on another station. He flipped through looking for the familiar jerseys of his home team. Nothing but breaking news announcements.

“This better be quick,” Max said to himself. He picked up the can of beer that sat on the coffee table in front of him and finished it off.

“We interrupt the regularly scheduled programming to bring a news alert regarding the abduction of a young boy. David Krier, aged ten, was taken from his bedroom in the middle of the night.”

Max crushed the can in his hand at the sound of David’s name.

“Police have released the name of a suspect in the case, a Maxime Peeters, age thirty-nine. Peeters, who goes by Max, is believed to be somewhere in the area surrounding the borders of France, Belgium and Luxembourg and may also be holding Jacques Lambert who was abducted over a week ago. His brother, Claude Lambert, has since been found after successfully escap-”

Max yelled. It was a deep yell, both anguished and angered, and it chilled Jacques and David to the bone. From their room down the hall they heard the scream then the footsteps charging toward them. The latch clicked and the door flung open. Max stood in the doorway, the crushed beer can still in his hand.

He threw the beer can at David. It hit him in the side of the head and bounced off, clattering across the floor until it came to a rest against the far wall.

“Who are you?”

David winced at the sound of Max’s voice. He looked up at the man, his face red with anger, veins pulsing in his neck. David had never been so scared in his life. Jacques had warned him of Max’s anger, but he had never seen anger any worse than when his dad would get mad at him. Max had actually been nice so far. David looked at Jacques who nodded gently and urged him with a simple look.
You know what to say, so go on and say it.

“C-Cl-Claude,” he said, stammering on the unfamiliarity of the name.

“Again!”

“Claude.”

Max stepped closer to David and raised his right hand across his chest. David saw the back of Max’s hand and the cuts and scabs that marred his knuckles. Max flexed his arm.

“Again!”

“My name is Claude Lambert,” David said, tears streaming from his eyes.

Max relaxed his hand and the colour began to drain from his face. “They are lying to the world. I know who you are.”

David took a deep, relieved breath and sunk down. As brief as the ordeal was, he was exhausted. And wet. He looked down at his pants and saw the dark stain on his khaki pants.

“Pissed yourself, huh?” Max looked down at him, his face snarled in disgust. “I knew you didn’t have it in you. Couldn’t get away, could you?”

David stared at Max, watched his mouth move with every word. He never saw it coming. Max’s hand came out of nowhere and struck him in the face, knocking him to the floor.

“Stop!” Jacques screamed as loud as he could. “He told you what you wanted to hear.”

Max looked back at Jacques and sneered before he turned back to the younger boy.

“What did you tell them?”

He swung again, the noise echoing through the small room. Jacques yelled again and tried to get up, hoping to help David as he had helped his brother. Max looked back and just stared deep into Jacques’s eyes.

“I let you live last time. I won’t do it again.”

Jacques swallowed hard. He looked into Max’s eyes and saw the seriousness in the threat. Jacques knew David would be okay – hurt, but okay. For some reason Jacques didn’t know, Max needed both of them.

“What did you tell them?” David could smell the beer on Max’s breath and feel the heat from his mouth he was so close. “What did you tell the fucking cops?”

“What? I didn’t tell anyone anything,” David said. His breathing was quick and anxious yet laboured. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

Max hit him again. David fell to the floor, his head hitting the wood. A trickle of blood ran from his right nostril.

“You escaped. Don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you. What did you tell them?” Max reached down and grabbed David’s shirt at the collar. He lifted the boy up and stared into his eyes. “What did you tell them about me?”

“Everything,” David said. “I told them everything.

They’ll be here soon. Is that what you want to hear?”

Max let go of David’s shirt and the boy fell back to the floor. “I’ll teach you not to lie to me.” He took a folding knife from his pocket and opened it with a flick of his wrist. Jacques screamed for him to stop and lunged toward him, his hand reaching for whatever he could grab hold of. Max swung the blade around, cutting Jacques’s hand as he reached.

Jacques reeled back in pain and clutched his wounded hand in the other. He took a deep breath and pulled his hand off of the cut. It ran from one end of his palm to the other but didn’t seem very deep. His hand throbbed as blood ran from the wound. He slid away from Max and held his palm tight to his pants, hoping to stop the bleeding.

“I told you not to try anything else,” Max said. He turned back to David and reached down, taking him by the collar once more. He slid the knife across David’s neck, light enough for the boy to feel the cold, hard steel but without leaving a trace behind. Jacques tried not to watch.

Max slid the knife inside David’s shirt and cut the collar. He put the knife back in his pocket then took the shirt in both hands and tore it to the hem. David lay on the floor, his torso bare and the remnants of the torn shirt bunched behind him against the ropes that bound his hands together. Max then took hold of David’s pant legs and pulled his wet trousers to his ankles, leaving him almost down to just his underwear.

David started to cry harder. He was scared and confused with no idea what was about to happen. Jacques didn’t want to watch. This had happened once to him and once to Claude, and both times he didn’t understand it. Max reached out to grab David’s underwear then reeled back as if he had been hurt. He grabbed his head in both hands and began to yell and scream as he shook violently.

“No!” His voice boomed through the room causing Jacques and David to jump. “I’m not you! I won’t do it, I won’t. I’m not a monster, I’m not like you.”

Max began to hit himself in the head with both hands. “No,” he said, “no, no, no, no.” He pulled the knife from his pocket, the blade still out and locked in place, then dragged it across his chest. His shirt split under the knife and blood dripped from his skin as the knife cut deeper.

“I’m not you!”

He pulled the knife fast, ending the cut with a long, shallow wound. Then, with slow and calm movements, folded the blade and put the knife back in his pocket as blood ran down his chest and stained his t-shirt. Max picked up the old gags off of the floor and silenced the boys once more. He didn’t say a word as he left the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

K
ara was asleep in the hospital bed as a variety of machines beeped and droned. Yuri put the cap back on the marker and sat down in the chair beside the bed. The cast on Kara’s right wrist bore only one signature thus far, a small “Yuri” written on the inside. He had questioned signing it at all, figuring that it could be seen as lacking in professionalism come their next press conference. He had chosen the spot with care; where he had written it gave her the option of holding the cast against her body to hide the signature.

There were traditions that had to be followed.

I should have dotted the ‘i’ with a heart. That’s what they used to do in school.

Yuri laughed at the thought. Kara might have taken it the wrong way though, and that was something Yuri couldn’t risk. Not yet, not when he was just starting to sort through the feelings he was developing. There would be time for that after the case.

She had been asleep for some time but Yuri had been there, waiting by her bed since she’d returned from having her wrist set and casted. The injury had been worse than expected – a combination of fractured and dislocated bones – but the doctors felt that Kara’s prognosis was good. The cast would need to stay on for four to six weeks, but she was expected to regain full use of her wrist.

She had been lucky. Even with two broken ribs added to the toll, she had escaped without serious injury given the severity of the crash. Yuri couldn’t shake the idea that Kara had been drunk at the time, that the alcohol in her system had kept her limber and loose enough to escape with relatively minor injuries. Whenever there was a serious, alcohol-involved collision, the drunks usually took the least beating.

Yuri shook his head. He had to trust her. She had been exhausted, they both had been, and with the weather as it was, he was surprised he hadn’t gone off the road.

Kara stirred and then opened her eyes. She took a moment to adjust to her surroundings then looked toward Yuri.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they brought you back from getting your wrist set. I was surprised they put you under for it.”

“Did you see my X-rays? I couldn’t believe how messed up it was.”

Yuri nodded.

Kara smiled then looked away. “Thanks,” she said, “for coming to my rescue.”

“I just wish I had found you sooner.”

“It was fine. I kept myself company.”

“Interesting. Good conversations?”

Kara nodded. “Quite good. At least I always won the arguments. Anyway, what’s happened while I’ve been out?”

“A lot,” Yuri said. “Where do you want me to start?”

Kara looked into his eyes, read the lines on his face and knew there was good and bad news. “Give me the bad news first.”

“It is not really bad news… kind of unknown news.”

“It’s about Kat, isn’t it?”

Yuri closed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “I just talked to Lincoln. They found an old bunker, probably from the thirties or forties. The door is welded shut though, but-”

“She’s alive. Oh my God, she’s alive.”

“He isn’t sure. But there is someone in there. Lincoln said he knocked on the door and someone knocked back. They can’t hear anything through the door though, it is solid steel.”

“Where is the bunker?”

“He didn’t say exactly, just said where Crawford told you Kat was buried.”

Kara’s face reddened and she clenched her teeth. “No. All this time… all this time she was right there. Fuck!”

“If it is her, they’ll have her out soon. They were getting someone to come and get the door open. That was a few hours ago.”

“But she was right under our noses for the last – it’s almost been a year. We could have saved her a year ago, Yuri.” Yuri looked at the sadness in Kara’s eyes, the tears welling up in the corners. “Her kids, I can’t even imagine what they’ve been feeling.”

“It is not your fault. Everyone missed it. Lincoln said the entrance was buried, hidden from view. Blaming yourself is not going to solve anything.”

Kara’s hands were shaking. The guilt and anger were building and with it a need for the only thing that could calm her. “Dammit, Yuri. If there’s anything wrong with her-”

“If she is alive, Kara, then that is all that matters right now.”

Kara shook her head. “She’s been in there too long and all alone. How would you be?”

Yuri looked away. He didn’t want Kara to see the pain in his eyes. “People find ways to cope, ways to keep themselves strong.”

There was such honesty in his voice that Kara didn’t know how to react. “I guess. I hope you’re right.” She paused and took a deep breath. “The good news?”

“We have had a lot of response to the press release on Max. There have been tips coming in from all over, and we have already identified a cluster of sightings in the Hespérange area, just south of Luxembourg City.”

“What kind of sightings?”

“The usual, people seeing him in shops and on the street. Nothing too spectacular, but with enough people seeing him, he must be in the area.”

Kara nodded. “So, increased patrols and public awareness then?”

“Exactly. With any luck we should have him soon. No one seems to know where he lives, no one has seen him leaving an apartment or anything, but he has to be somewhere around there. And Hespérange is not that large.”

“Put yourself in his shoes, where would you be?”

Yuri thought for a moment. “Somewhere less populated, otherwise someone would see or hear the kids. Maybe on the outskirts or an abandoned building somewhere.”

Kara nodded. “Do the sightings support the outskirts?”

Yuri shook his head. “More central. It is not a big place though.”

“Maybe look for something like a building that’s abandoned or being renovated. Something like that. I’ll bet that’s where you’ll find him.”

“Where
we’ll
find him.”

Kara shrugged. “Not much use to you like this. It hurts to move and there’s no way I can shoot like this.” She held up her cast and noticed the signature. “Cute. I’m sure the Chief will love it.”

There was a playful lilt to her voice that let Yuri know she was joking around.

“It’s sweet,” she said. “Thank you.”

Yuri turned away for a moment and Kara thought she could see some colour surfacing on his cheeks. When he turned back it was gone and he was once more his usual stern self.

“This sucks,” Kara said. “I need to be out there trying to find this guy, not in here lying in bed.”

“I know,” Yuri said. “But you are of no use to anyone if you don’t heal.”

“Two days. If I can move, I’ll be back out there. You just have to do all the driving and heavy lifting.”

“Done. Think the doctors will give you the green light?”

Kara smiled. “I can be very persuasive when I need to be. Learned it from Lincoln. Although he usually persuaded doctors to let him go through veiled threats and exaggerating the danger the public was in.”

“Whatever gets the job done.”

“Exactly. All’s fair in love, war and chasing down scumbags.”

“I have never heard that one,” Yuri said. He looked at his watch. “I should go and coordinate the search. Some of the city cops need to be on really short leashes.”

Kara laughed. “You and Link would definitely get along. Good luck, Yuri.”

“Thank you. Get better soon. I need someone to sing off-key in the car.”

Kara shot a glare Yuri’s direction. He stood up, nodded in her direction and turned to leave.

“Wait,” she said. “Before you go…”

Yuri turned back to look at her, wondering what she might say.

“Could you hand me the TV remote?”