UNSEEN (15 page)

"
Okay. So we're at a dead end."

"
I don't know about that, I'm gonna keep reading that webpage and see if I can figure anything else out."

"
All right. So, Dan, do you mind staying again while I go check on Jenna?"

"
Yeah, I can stay, if you’re sure you don’t mind, Holly."

She bit the corner of her lower lip and gave a weak shrug.

Dan shoved his thumb toward the door. "I'll just watch T.V. And guard the door."

"
Whatever," she said again, and rolled off the door jam and into the kitchen.

Jake and Dan shared a look.

Then Jake made a quick exit, before anyone changed their mind.

Chapter 17

Jake drove through downtown Sunbury, past the Greyhound bus station, up to the Dunkin Donuts, and back down to the courthouse looking carefully at every child he saw along the way. There weren't many, and the few he saw didn't look in his direction.

He found a parking space near the intersection at the center of downtown, parked his car, and got out. The sidewalks were moderately littered with pedestrians, most heading toward the waterfront because there was a concert going on, but some were enjoying a little shopping at the local stores and open-air market behind the museum.

He started up the sidewalk then slowed. On the other side of the street, standing at the crosswalk, was a tiny Asian girl with a long black ponytail blowing in the breeze. A man stood nearby, but by his positioning, it was clear he wasn't with her. She turned and looked in Jake’s direction. Adrenaline surged in his chest. Was she looking at him? He increased his pace and crossed over.

Her eyes stayed locked on his as her thin arms dangled at her side and her flip-flopped feet turned inward toward each other.

Jake ran up the sidewalk and came to a crouch before her. "Are you one of them?" he asked abruptly.

She stepped back, and gave a tiny smile. "Yaw funny."

He almost reached out to touch her to see if she was real, but remembered that he could feel them even if they weren’t. It wouldn’t prove anything. How on earth could he find out if she was real without looking crazy? Or was it already too late for that? If she was only visible to him, it wouldn't take long for people to start staring at the weird man crouched down talking to himself on the corner.

He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Hello?" he said, still looking at the little girl. "Are you supposed to tell me something?"

The girl cocked her head, clearly confused. "Ah you talkin’ ta me?"

"
Yes!" he blurted, "Do you have something to tell me?"

Her face was a blank canvas and her answer a simple, "No."

He couldn't help but wonder why the sender of the message had decided it was a good idea to have children deliver it. If the message was so important, why not send someone who could articulate their purpose?

"
Can you at least tell me where you're from?"

Her chin jutted out. "Why ah you hoedin yaw phone?"

Jake struggled to keep his voice and expression from revealing his frustration. "The other little girl said she had a message for me. Do you have a message for me? I need to know."

A woman came swooping in. "What are you doing? I thought you were behind me! Don't ever do that to me again!" She grabbed the girl by the wrist and gave Jake a suspicious look.

The shock of her sudden appearance hit Jake like a wave, almost knocking him over. He pressed the phone to his ear and said the first thing he could think of to explain why he was crouched on the sidewalk near a little girl he didn't know, "Yeah. I can hear you now. Can you hear me?"

"
He's funny, Mama."

The mother gave Jake an irritated look, and he responded with a gesture that was meant to communicate how ridiculous it was that he had to crouch on the sidewalk to get better reception. The woman pulled on her daughter's arm and dragged her back into the nearby store, scolding her as she went.

Jake got to his feet and flipped his phone closed. That encounter could have been uglier, he thought, but not much. If he wanted to retain a shred of self respect, he would have to change his tactics. He needed someone, someone who couldn't see the children to tell him if they were real or not. If only he could have brought Dan, Jake could have spotted the children, and Dan could have confirmed them. That would be better than him looking like a stalker—or worse.

He left the intersection and walked around the block in the direction of his apartment building. The Schoolhouse, as it was called, was in downtown Sunbury across from the old federal building not far from the center of town. If he couldn't find any prospects on the streets, or in the park, maybe he could find the little girl he’d met in front of his building this morning.

Along the way he saw two suspicious children, but in both cases they were unapproachable, and neither showed any interest in him. He walked through the park, up the grass hill at the far end, and across the parking lot to The Schoolhouse.

The front of the building had three sets of granite steps which led up to a small courtyard surrounded by a low cement wall. Two trees offered shade for the courtyard, one on each side of the middle set of stairs.

Jake climbed the stairs and came to a stop when he noticed his new neighbor's daughter sitting on a finely molded cement bench under one of the trees. Her face was in her drawing tablet, so she didn't notice him approaching.

"
Hi there," he said, as he passed by.

She looked up with her pretty blue eyes and dragged her straight brown bangs to the side. "Hello."

"
Aiyana? Right?"

"
Yup," she replied.

"
What are you drawing now?"

"
Same thing," she said. Her hand rubbed across the thick pad in her lap.

"
I can't wait to see it when it's done," he said, looking back over his shoulder.

Jenna was coming down the sidewalk from the parking lot, and when she saw Jake, she began to jog. "Jake!" He met her at the bottom of the stairs. "Have you heard anything? Is Gabe okay?"

He pulled away gently. "No. We haven't heard anything."

Being highly attuned to emotion made Jenna an excellent actress, but didn't benefit her much in daily living. He could already see the tears encasing her eyes as her emotional meter tapped into the low end of the scale. For Jenna there was a narrow margin between the highs and the lows. Outside of that place of perfect harmony, she was usually crying. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"
Yes," he said evenly, "I'm fine."

"
You must be so worried."

He attempted to stabilize her by downplaying his own fears of losing Gabe. "They'll find him. The FBI are good at what they do. Until then, it doesn't help to worry."

Realizing her compassion would have no outlet with him, she leaped to a new target. "How's Holly?" she asked, her tears breaching her lower eyelids. She tilted her head slightly to the side and smeared the wetness across one cheek.

"
She's good. Dan's with her."

"
Oh," she said, choking back even more emotion. "Dan's with her? He's such a nice guy."

He grabbed her by the hand, "Come on. Let's go upstairs and see if anyone has left a message on the machine." It was a thinly veiled attempt to avoid an emotional scene in front of their apartment building, but Jenna was too overwhelmed to notice. He led her upstairs to their cozy couch with its big soft pillows, and grabbed her a cold glass of grape juice—and a box of tissues, just in case.

Like a professional race car driver, he steered the conversation toward the facts of the situation, avoiding any discussion of how anyone was feeling about the horrific events that were unfolding. He had learned early in their relationship to identify emotional triggers and steer clear of them at all cost. Piece by piece he laid out the facts of the case and what they were doing to help the FBI, including the big reveal that Holly's roommate was dating a man who had been present at one of the crime sites. Jake was careful to bring it up in an empirical manner, citing it as evidence the FBI could use to close the case, and avoiding the obvious feeling of betrayal Holly and her roommate were feeling. His careful handling of the report did not go unnoticed by Jenna. Instead of gratitude for sparing her wave after wave of emotional trauma, he was rewarded with contempt.

"
I don't know how you do it," she said.

"
Do what?"

"
Stay so calm about all of this."

Calm was an interesting word. He was hardly calm about this. It was more of a detachment. When he thought about what could possibly happen to Gabe at the hands of this murderer, it ripped at his heart. He had to choose to look at it forensically, examine it as a doctor would a gaping chest wound. There was no profit in compassion if it came at the expense of swift action. "It’s a simple matter of necessity. Gabe needs me to be strong and keep my head clear."

"
Aren't you worried about him?"

"
Of course I am."

"
How can you just blather on about facts and evidence as if you're talking about a frog you’re dissecting?"

"
Because I don't want you to do that thing you do, get all emotional when there’s nothing I can do to help. I can't deal with anyone else I love hurting right now. I don't have anything left."

A tear trickled down the side of her nose. She turned her head away and pressed her lips to her knuckles.

"
See. That's what I'm talking about. I can't do this right now."

"
I'm not trying to add to your stress." She sniffed.

"
Then let me grieve when I'm ready. For now I need to stay focused on doing what I can to help Holly—and I can't do that if I'm having an emotional break down." He released his stress in a long exhale. "Look. I'm going for a walk. I'll be back."

Jenna's response was silence. It was the best she could muster when her emotions began to peak into the red. He was grateful it wasn't hysteria. That was the next stage, which usually ended with Jenna in a fit of crying, unable to talk or breathe.

Chapter 18

Holly scanned page after page, devouring everything she could about the Cape murderer, hoping some pattern might emerge. Agent Grant was correct in her assessment of him, there weren't many similarities between the cases. His calling card was the children's blocks, and after the first case, he’d started connecting with the mothers through video. The first video was a recorded message, but that developed into the live streaming presentation she had witnessed. There were no videos on the website; Holly was thankful for that. She would not have been able to resist watching them, yet she was sure they would have driven her to the shattering point. The way her emotions were rocketing from one extreme to the next, there was no doubt she was pressing the tolerance of her ability to cope. Her only relief was to continue to search for answers. The searching offered her hope, and kept her mind busy.

Her head swam, the three Tylenol tablets had barely touched the incessant pounding which made it difficult to process the facts. She squeezed her eyes shut, then focused on the screen. Four children, all between the ages of two and six, taken from mothers on state assistance who had sought counseling for their pregnancies as teenagers. The author of the website also made a connection between the mothers and drug abuse, but his evidence was mostly circumstantial.

Each case was more elaborate than the last, yet each death less gruesome. The first mother found children's blocks on her doorstep: four numbers that represented a time, the time the killer intended to shoot her son dead in cold blood. When the clock struck 14:15, military time, a bullet broke through the glass of her living room and killed her son while he sat watching cartoons. That was it. It was over.