Chapter Four
Four
“Of course I believe in demons. I’m Colombian and grew up Catholic. My mom couldn’t place the fear of God in me without including his satanic counterpart.”
I’m drifting off halfway through an article on Colombian witches who deal with demonic entities when my buzzing phone jerks me awake.
I nearly silence it but realize the area code is local.
“Hello?” I ask, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice at being woken up.
“Is this Brie Benson?”
The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. The question is punctuated by a sniffle, like the other person has been crying.
“This is,” I confirm. “And you are…?”
“Amelia. Krystal’s wife.”
Krystal. She should have been here by now. I check the time on my laptop. Almost ten. I was asleep for way longer than I thought. “Oh God, yes, so sorry! Amelia, hi. Is everything okay?”
She’s quiet for too long before she says, “Krystal never came home from work today. I know she was supposed to go to your place to watch Love Island tonight. Is she there?”
My stomach drops to my toes.
“No, she never came. Sorry, I got distracted and fell asleep and—”
“It’s okay,” Amelia cuts me off with a forced calm that screams motherhood. Still, I can’t miss her fear when she says, “She wouldn’t disappear like this. I think something happened to her.”
· · ·
After hanging up with me, Amelia officially reported Krystal as missing.
I stayed up all night pacing my apartment, waiting for updates.
Several times I grabbed my keys, wanting to take to the streets.
But I haven’t driven after dark since that night, and now’s no different.
Guilt chewed me up as I triple-checked that my door and windows were locked, my mind jumping to Poppi, the woman who disappeared over the weekend. Surely, the two can’t be related.
I get ready for work a whole hour early.
Unsure what else to do with myself, I swipe my keys.
Even with the sun up, I’m so frazzled that it takes an additional five minutes to hype myself up enough to start the car.
It’s only once I’m pulling into the driveway of Amelia and Krystal’s house with a bag of bagels and cream cheese from the corner deli that I pause. Krystal’s car isn’t here.
Amelia’s is, though. I ring the bell.
“Brie?” Amelia’s obviously been crying. If not evident by her swollen red eyes, then by the tissue clutched in her fist. “What are you doing here?”
I hold out the bag of bagels. “Thought you might need breakfast. I know it can be kind of easy to forget to eat.”
Her gaze softens as she takes the bag. “Thank you. I’m waiting for my parents to come by with the kids. Aurelia knows something’s up, but I’m keeping them out of school and away from home so I can deal with the police. Do you want to come in for a minute?”
“Um, actually—” I check my phone. It’s already 7:30, but work isn’t far. Besides, I can’t deny Amelia’s pleading blue eyes behind her smudged wire-framed glasses. “Sure.”
I’ve been to their house before, but a bolt of admiration hits me just like the first time.
It’s tastefully decorated in a mid-century modern way with pops of color and Amelia’s artwork on the walls.
“You never have to worry about me quitting,” Krystal once joked in the office.
“My wife wins the bread, but I got the benefits.”
“How are you doing?” I ask, even though I hated when people asked me that. Now, though, I see how there really is nothing right to say in the face of catastrophe.
She sniffles. “It’s been stressful. But Krys is going to be okay. She has to be.”
“Of course,” I agree. “And the police are on it, right?”
Something like contempt flickers across Amelia’s expression. “Supposedly.”
I raise a brow. “Or maybe not?”
She sighs, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter.
“I think they might be on it for all the wrong reasons. I don’t know how much Krys has told you, but she has a past with addiction, though she’s been sober for years.
They think her disappearing into thin air is part of that, even though I keep telling them it’s not.
I mean, for fuck’s sake, her car was literally found under the bridge by Court Street, still running.
With her bag in it and everything. You can’t tell me she would have left like that if it was her choice. ”
“She would never,” I say, because if there’s one thing I know about Krystal, it’s that she’s loyal. “That’s shitty the police won’t listen to you.”
“They’re trying to find a common thread between Krys and that other woman, Poppi, who went missing.
But the only link between her and Krys that we know of is that they both knew someone who passed from an overdose.
I feel like they’re trying to explain everything away instead of admitting that maybe there’s a kidnapper or creep out there. ”
“That’s awful. Did they both know the same person who died?” I ask.
“I doubt it. The person Krys lost was her younger sister, Shania. Her only sibling.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Krystal is one of the only people in Tarrentown who has managed to crack my walnut shell enough for me to spill about the death of my parents.
It’s not like she owed me a trauma dump in return, but especially after telling me yesterday that I remind her of her sister, I’m surprised to find out Shania’s dead.
“That was nearly eight years ago and made Krys finally get help. She met me a month later during an art therapy class I was teaching and has been clean ever since. Anyway, that’s why she calls you angel—your first day at Curated Care was on the anniversary of Shania’s death, so she felt like it was a sign from her sister. ”
It takes everything in me to keep my composure. But I’m not the one with a missing wife, so I swallow down the lump in my throat and say what I wish I had told Krystal. “She was my angel, too.”
A small smile blooms across Amelia’s tired face before withering.
She looks out the window as if Krystal might be standing on the back deck, and says, “I know it’s not a relapse like the police want to believe.
They look at Krys’s past, and Poppi’s, and see a commonality.
But that doesn’t explain Madeline Valero.
She’s another woman who was reported missing Sunday night.
Unlike Krys and Poppi, Madeline apparently doesn’t have a substance-abuse history.
But it sounds like she’s had her fair share of mental health struggles.
Her family died in a fire when she was a kid.
If they really are connected somehow, I want to pop whatever asshole is behind it all. ”
“We’ll find them,” I say surely, though I don’t feel very sure at all. The notion that this could be part of a greater scheme makes a shiver race through me.
My eyes catch on the clock on the stove, its neon-green numbers sending me to my feet. “I have to go. If you need anything at all or hear more, please let me know.”
I’m nearly out the door when Amelia’s worried voice stops me. “Be careful, alright? If some sicko really is out there…”
She trails off, but I know what she means. It’s a dangerous time to be a woman.
But isn’t it always?
· · ·
When I get to work, news of Krystal’s disappearance has already hit the office. The vibes are bleaker than usual. Debra is still out, and Krystal’s cubicle is empty.
I’m numbly going through my mundane morning tasks when Ted clears his throat.
“Sorry,” I say, realizing he’s been standing in front of my desk. “What’s up?”
Ted gives me a pitying smile. “I know you and Krystal are close. If it’s too hard to be here, you can head home for the day.”
It’s a kind offer, but can’t come from him. Luke would need to approve it.
But I haven’t seen Luke all morning. His door is firmly shut, blinds closed.
As if reading my mind, Ted turns to address the room.
“Hey, everyone, smidge of an update. Luke had to take some unexpected time off and asked me to fill in until he gets back. He’s not sure when, but hopefully, for all our sakes, it’s not too long.
” The joke falls flat, earning crickets. “In the meantime, I’m your guy!”
He jabs his thumb into his chest and nods at everyone as he walks back to his desk, like he’s the mayor and not just a stand-in.
Everybody returns to their work, but something itches at me.
Where would Luke need to go so unexpectedly?
And to leave Ted in charge, of all people? It feels like a personal offense.
Something from all my googling last night brims on my mind. It was about how demons can get territorial. I tilt my screen away from wandering eyes and try to recall the site. It takes a few searches and changing up my keywords before it pops up.
Monsters and Mayhem, the site is titled. Everything to know about what lurks in the shadows.
I click on the article I was reading last night, wondering if our IT guy pays attention to our search history. Each sentence puts me more and more on edge.
“Some demons are known for being territorial. They blend in better than the rest and can even live entire lives with families and children among us. If their existence feels threatened by a smaller demon, they’ll eradicate it. They’ll do whatever it takes to keep up the ruse.”
I stare at the paragraph for so long my eyes blur. On Friday, Luke clearly knew what he was doing. But I never questioned how he knew what he was doing. It’s not like Exorcism 101 is taught in management school. What if the reason he knew how was because he’s a demon himself?
Demons feed on misery, I recall, pulling up another article from a different site. Death, despair, guilt, grief, you name it. It’s a delicacy.
Amelia said the police are trying to link Krystal’s and Poppi’s histories with addiction to their disappearances.
But what if they’re looking too closely at it?
Maybe it’s not about their addiction at all and just the fact that they both lost someone.
If the common thread is women dealing with grief and survivor’s guilt, that would also make Madeline’s disappearance make sense.
If Luke is the culprit—which means he’d be a demon—then that means he could have exorcised Debra because she was a smaller demon on his turf, and now he’s preying on grief-stricken women because he’s…hungry?
Jesus.
“So what do you think?”
I jump a foot, exiting out of the tabs like my life depends on it. My job status might.
“What do I think of what?” I ask Ted.
“Are you staying the rest of the day?”
I already forgot about that offer. If I go home, I’m just going to sit there and spiral even harder. I want to look for Krystal, but I don’t know where to start.
Except maybe I do.
“No,” I say to Ted. “I need to do one more thing and then I’ll head out.”
“Sounds good.” He pats the edge of my desk. “Don’t forget to clock out.”
Annoyance burns me. I should have known that Ted’s offer wasn’t for free. I haven’t been at the company long enough to accrue paid time off or sick time, so leaving early means a cut paycheck. Something that will dig into my carefully construed budget.
But that’s a concern for after I find Krystal, and Poppi, and Madeline. I could be their only hope. After all, I’m the only one who knows Luke might be a demon.
With a quick abuse of my receptionist search powers, I know just where to find him.