Chapter 25 #12
Charles Forrester packed the rolled T-shirts for a second time.
Or was it the third? Another pair of jeans.
A pullover sweater. Socks. Underwear. Shorts.
Chinos. Windbreaker. A variety of clothes to fit the weather in an unknown place.
He hadn’t found Colin’s spring jacket, so he had to figure the boy had been wearing it to school the day the bullyboys took him to Wyrd.
Had Colin been wearing it when he crossed the river, or would someone at the school find it in the boy’s locker?
He’d have to arrange to have Colin’s locker cleared out so that he could bring the boy’s things home—for the time being.
He looked at his wife. Aisha watched him pack the suitcase, a mix of hope and horror in her eyes.
She had spun between wanting to pack every article of clothing Colin owned to wanting to send nothing more than would fit into a backpack, as if the size of the suitcase would determine how long their son would remain lost in some piece of Wyrd.
Not lost, Charles reminded himself. Tucked away, yes. But not lost. Colin had sent a letter home, and that had to mean something.
Maybe being tucked away was the safest thing for Colin right now.
After months of Albert Palmer agitating to have something done about Wyrd, the uproar over the four boys he killed and the two that were officially listed as missing wasn’t going to die down soon.
He and Aisha were keeping a close eye on Jazz to make sure she wasn’t being bullied or otherwise bothered by children at her school.
A couple of her friends stopped talking to her, stopped going to the movies with her or any of the other things girls that age did.
But Davie was at the house every day, doing homework with Jazz and coaxing her into practicing dance routines that had Charles biting his tongue because they sounded more like elephants pounding on the floor than twelve-year-old…
people. Although, based on a nature show he’d seen recently, elephants were actually quiet when they walked.
“All his favorite clothes,” Aisha whispered when Charles reached for the sweatshirt she’d been hugging since he’d begun packing the suitcase this time. “What if it gets lost? You said they can’t promise it will be delivered.”
“Then we’ll buy him new clothes,” Charles said gently.
“What if he comes home and the suitcase hasn’t arrived yet?”
“Aisha.” He gathered her in his arms and held on.
“Beth Fahey called Lucas Frost and asked about the weather in that part of Wyrd. He told her to figure on hot days and chilly nights. We’re packing the same way we would if he was at summer camp.
He has a place to stay. He’ll have food.
The woman who reported Colin’s whereabouts to Lucas Frost seems like a solid individual. ”
“We don’t know anything about her.”
He knew a couple of things about Tia Downing.
She had been in the military, had served honorably—and had disappeared after her enlistment was up.
“We’ll send Colin his favorite clothes to remind him of home.
We’ll add the toothbrush and dental floss—and a couple of paperbacks of his current favorite series. ”
“E-reader?” Aisha asked, finally releasing the sweatshirt so that Charles could pack it.
“Fahey said there is no electricity where he is.”
“No…?” Aisha stared at him. “He’s a teenager. How is he going to survive without texting? Without the internet? Without…” She waved her arms to indicate all the things kids Colin’s age swore they couldn’t live without.
Charles laughed. “Maybe when he misses those things enough, he’ll find his way home.”
18
Lucas Frost met Charles Forrester at the hotel. A man with a suitcase walking into the hotel wouldn’t attract attention. A man hauling a suitcase into the pavilion? People would notice, and even a casual remark said to the wrong person at the wrong time could have unintentional consequences.
Lucas looked at the large suitcase, then at Forrester. The police captain was the only one of his team who habitually wore a uniform. Today he wasn’t dressed for work, had known not to call attention to himself that way.
“What are your intentions?” Lucas asked. “Are you thinking you can take that suitcase to where your son is now and somehow find your way home?”
He saw the conflict in Forrester’s eyes. The man wanted to do just that. Another man might have made that choice, and the Arcana would not have interfered with whatever fate came from that choice. But Forrester had seen enough of Wyrd to know what might happen.
“What are the odds that I could actually reach the place where Colin is staying and get back home to my wife and daughter, with or without my son?” Forrester asked.
“Long odds,” Lucas replied. “If that is your intention, I hope you provided your wife with all the information she’ll need to live without you.”
“That’s what I thought.” Forrester placed a hand on the suitcase.
“So my intention is that this suitcase containing my son’s clothes and a few of his personal possessions reach him in a timely manner.
I exchanged some money for the coins used on Wyrd and tucked those into the suitcase so that he’ll have spending money.
I also tucked in some stationery and envelopes to encourage him to write.
He’s a teenage boy, so we should be grateful we heard from him at all, but it would ease our hearts to hear from him now and then. ”
“A person’s fate is his or her own, but the Arcana can assist in some things,” Lucas said. “Like adding my intention to yours that the suitcase finds the correct destination with alacrity.”
“Thank you.” Forrester studied him. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“We’ll call it a favor.” Lucas removed an envelope out of his jacket pocket and held it out, along with a sheet of paper. “Instructions. The timing is critical because it will happen only once in that place and at that time.”
Forrester’s eyes widened when he saw the name on the envelope. “What is supposed to happen?”
“Closure.”
19
Charles Forrester changed into his uniform and was about to check in with his team when Tom Castelletti stepped into the doorway.
“Detective Gibson is here to see you,” Castelletti said.
“Send her in.”
The woman who walked into his office looked haunted. That look was the reason there was a special team of police officers who assisted the six towns around the Fate River when an investigation indicated a connection with Wyrd.
In Amanda Gibson’s case, Charles thought she had more reason than most to look haunted.
“How are you?” he asked when they were seated.
“My mother was murdered by her stepbrother and was a ghost who tried to protect me for the last three years of her existence.” She tried to smile. “I’m having trouble coping with that.”
“Can you sleep?”
“Not really. The dreams are…” Gibson shivered.
“Anyway, I’ve taken a leave of absence—a few weeks to get some counseling, to think about things that happened during those years in light of what I now know.
Another detective in the twelfth precinct will be handling the Albert Palmer investigation—or as much as he can investigate.
He may contact you.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“I also wanted to let you know that officers will be patrolling at the high school, middle school, and grade school for the remainder of this school year. Some of the boys who died or are missing have siblings who might react badly to what has happened and want to blame someone else for their brothers’ bad choices. ”
“I appreciate you telling me.” Gibson wasn’t the first who had told him about the patrols to reassure him that his daughter would be as safe as possible.
“Are you going to stay in Penwych?” After a brush with Wyrd, some officers stayed on the job but wouldn’t go near the river.
Others found jobs in towns far enough away that they could pretend the Fate River and the Isle of Wyrd didn’t exist—and didn’t realize that denying the existence of a place that was a convergence of the uncanny didn’t mean they couldn’t brush against the uncanny somewhere else.
“I’m going to a luxury resort with a couple of close friends and get away from everything. They are people I trust, friends I can talk to about…my mother. About that place.” Gibson stood, preparing to leave. Then she hesitated. “Any news about your son?”
“He’s safe, but his location is unknown.”
“A bit like witness protection.”
“Yes.” Except Charles had hope that they would hear from Colin, that he would come home someday.
After Amanda Gibson left the team’s area of the 13th precinct, Charles sat at his desk and placed a phone call to Grace Russell.
20
Grace Russell parked her car and walked to the dock reserved for police patrol boats—and wondered what was going on with Charles Forrester that he wanted to meet her here. The police dock was located at a waterfront park, which was officially closed at this hour.
“Should I bring my officers?” she’d asked.
“No. This is personal.”
She saw the lights and heard the motor of the Penwych patrol boat. Standing at the land end of the dock, she waited for Forrester to disembark.
“Captain Russell,” Forrester said when he reached her.
“Captain Forrester. What’s this about?”
Forrester removed a piece of paper and a small high-powered flashlight from his coat pocket. After studying the paper, he looked around. “We need to take that path along the river.”
“Why?”
The flashlight didn’t illuminate his face enough for her to see his expression. “Closure,” he said.
Did she trust him? He was a colleague, and she believed he was a good man, and she relied on his skill to deal with what came out of Wyrd.
But it was that connection with the place and, more, the people there that produced that kernel of doubt—especially when someone from that team asked for something… unusual.