Chapter 25 #8
Castelletti gave Beth a sharp look of warning, but Beth was focused on explaining the path that had led to senseless killing.
“Albert Palmer blamed Captain Forrester for Darren Palmer’s death, even though the boy chose to go to Wyrd and chose to go through a moon gate—and he was killed within moments of his transformation, so there was nothing anyone could have done to save him.
Yesterday afternoon, four teenage boys rode the ferry to Wyrd with Colin Forrester.
They must have been joined by two other young men because there were seven young males involved in what happened.
Four of those boys went through a moon gate and were transformed into wild dogs.
We don’t know yet why that form was triggered.
The Arcana who look after Destiny Park were going to capture the dogs and bring them back to Penwych to what they believed would be a safe place where the boys could transform back into humans at sunrise. ”
“Sunrise.” Gibson blew out an angry breath. “Just a couple of minutes, and things might have been so different here. But we still have to identify these boys.”
“Their possessions are being sent over on the first ferry,” Beth said. “A detective on our team is picking them up.”
“This is your case,” Castelletti said. “We can take the first look for identification, since you’ll be busy questioning Palmer, or we can deliver the box to your team at the twelfth precinct if you prefer.” He waited a beat before adding, “The high school is in the twelfth’s jurisdiction.”
“Yes, it is.” Gibson frowned. “You said there were seven young men. We have the four who changed into dogs. What happened to the other three?”
Beth looked at Castelletti. He looked at her, offering no help—not because he wouldn’t give it if she needed that help, but he didn’t want to say the words.
“Two of those boys chose…unforgiving…modes of transportation, and it’s unlikely that they will be seen for years, if they return at all.”
“And Captain Forrester’s boy?”
Beth drew in a shaky breath. “Missing. The Arcana are looking for him, but it’s the Isle of Wyrd. There’s no guarantee they’ll find him.”
“God,” Gibson said. “So you have no idea who the missing boys are?”
Beth tipped her head toward the bodies that were being removed from the yard. “We were hoping they would tell us when they…”
Gibson nodded. “You know there is going to be a shitstorm over this. I’m aware of what Albert Palmer has been saying about…them…and this will give other people a reason to say he’s right.”
“Who persuaded those boys to go to Wyrd to do whatever they’d intended to do?” Beth asked. “Who paid them to go there?”
“There’s no proof,” Gibson argued.
Yet was the word that hung in the air.
“The Arcana are supposed to see people’s fate, aren’t they?” Gibson continued. “Why didn’t they stop those boys from going through the gate?”
“Why didn’t God stop those boys from getting on the ferry?” Beth countered.
“God doesn’t interfere with our choices because we have free will!”
“Free will.” Beth nodded. “I think the Arcana believe in that too.”
11
Colin Forrester loved his first full day in Llamalidia.
Sure, he felt anxious when he thought about his parents waiting for some word from him, but this was like being on a mission for Captain Picard and having his shuttle make a forced landing on an unfamiliar planet and then discovering a race of people almost no one else knew about—and a place that was a quarter turn to the left of reality as most humans knew it.
There was a kind of bunkhouse for seasonal workers who came to assist the Llamalidians with shearing, but Tia lived above the trading post and was letting him use her spare room as long as he followed the rules that were part of the deal of living in this land.
Plumbing was primitive, and water, which was a gift of the rainy season, was important enough to be rationed.
Humans were allowed quick showers twice a week.
The other days, you had a basin of water and a washcloth to wash your face, your armpits, and your privates.
The water from the washbasin and the shower was collected and used in the toilet to wash the solid waste through some pipes down to something called the sludge quarry—which was fortunately way downwind most of the time and not a place you wanted to visit in high summer.
The Llamalidians understood that he was a juvenile human who was far from home and whose education did not include their civilized language.
Their children, called cria, were curious about him and invited him to play some of their games.
So he played with the cria and began learning how to communicate in the Llamalidians’ language while he observed their culture and daily life.
Determined not to be a freeloader, since he wasn’t sure how his being there impacted Tia’s supplies and rationed goods, he also made an effort to help out at the trading post by sweeping the floors, wiping down shelves, and restocking goods—just like a good young officer would do while he waited for rescue.
He wasn’t sure how much time he would have here, so he wanted to do and see and learn as much as he could. And despite the worry it would cause his parents, part of him hoped the bus that would be able to take him back to Destiny Park wouldn’t arrive for a few days.
12
Charles Forrester didn’t pay much attention to the radio station’s local news segment until the editorial.
“The uncanny, the strange, the powerful currents of fate, are all around us. People go to practitioners in their own towns to have tarot cards read or have their palms read. They are looking to bring their intuition into the realm of conscious thought. They choose to do this, just like some people choose to ride the ferry and visit the Isle of Wyrd. They choose to go across the river knowing that most of the island is dangerous and potentially fatal to anyone who disregards the warnings. If someone enters the tiger enclosure at the zoo, despite all the warnings and ignoring all common sense, we should not blame the tiger if the person is killed. We should not blame the people living on Wyrd for tragedy that is not of their making.”
“Captain?” Castelletti stood in the doorway of Forrester’s office. “Detective Gibson is here to see you.”
Charles turned off the radio. Albert Palmer’s claiming the four boys he killed were dogs when he shot them was the hot story in local news—and fodder for all kinds of reports and speculation.
Did Palmer have a mental breakdown after the death of his own son and blame his son’s friends for not going with the boy on that fateful trip to Wyrd?
Or had he known what he was doing when he shot those boys and was now using a diminished capacity defense as a get-out-of-jail card?
Or was he telling the simple truth?
“Detective Gibson,” he said when she walked into his office.
“Captain.”
“Have a seat.” He offered her coffee or tea, which she declined. “What can I do for you?”
“Using the items in the box of possessions you sent to my team, we were able to confirm the identities of two Penwych High School boys who were part of a ‘pack’ that called themselves Dare’s Doggs.
The other two boys, who were older and out of school, worked for the same construction company as Albert Palmer.
Coworkers confirmed that Palmer and those two went out drinking after work several nights a week and had been doing so for the past few months. ”
“He denied knowing any of the boys who were in his yard.”
“He did,” Gibson agreed. “However, when she returned from visiting her sister in Lovecraft, Mrs. Palmer identified the boys who were her son’s friends, saying they’d been to the house often.
She didn’t know their actual names; she knew them as Butch and Stick.
She said there were two others, Devl and Acid.
She thought they were a bad influence on Darren. ”
Charles sat back. “Why are you telling me this? I’m under orders to stay away from any investigation involving Albert Palmer because he may directly or indirectly be responsible for my son’s disappearance.”
Gibson gave him a sour look. “I have questions, and I’ll have to talk to those people to get the answers.” She hesitated. “I have to go to Wyrd, and I’d like one of your detectives to go with me since they have experience dealing with…”
The Arcana, Charles thought. “Have you talked to any of the Arcana before?”
“No.”
But someone who mattered to you had crossed the river—and wherever that person’s fate had taken them, it hadn’t ended well. “Do you intend to ask about the missing boys?”
“Yes. I also want to see this moon gate and determine if there was some negligence on their part that allowed those boys to get turned into dogs.”
“Your prejudice will taint all your transactions with the Arcana,” Charles said. “It would be better if you gave us your questions, and we’ll go over and get the answers.”
Gibson shook her head. “I don’t want answers that have been filtered by someone who is sympathetic to them.
I want to ask the questions and hear the answers.
Damn it, Forrester, we have four dead boys and two others whose parents are calling every hour asking if we’ve found them yet.
” She closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths.
“I’m sorry. Your son is missing too. I haven’t forgotten that. ”
“But I’m not calling you every hour looking for answers.” Charles sighed. “I’ll send Detective Fahey with you.”
“I’d prefer someone other than your junior detective.”
“Your hostility toward the Arcana is unmistakable. That being the case, they won’t talk to you, let alone answer questions for a police investigation. You want answers? You need Fahey. They’ll talk to her—or overlook your rudeness because she’s with you.”
Gibson stared at him. “What’s her deal with them?”