WFOL 2021 SEASON 3 ROUND ROBIN
(From February 2021 - Reformated with chapters in the correct order and reposted on 29 November 2022)
1
Mel
Diana heaved the large duffle bag onto the
freshly laundered quilted red blanket. "Is that all you brought, Alex?"
Her niece, Alex, plopped a dark green backpack
on the bed beside the duffle. "And this too."
Diana's blue gaze briefly studied the bedroom. While
she kept it clean, the room was normally sparely furnished; most nights, she
could barely check the clock on her nightstand before collapsing. But this
time, she had taken to decorating it with pictures and children's books. The
ten-year-old could have spent the week with various cousins and aunts and
uncles who would have spoiled her. Instead, Alex had chosen to spend it with
her spinster Aunt Diana.
Diana smiled to herself as she recalled her
sister Susan's words. Alex was certainly the most independent of her generation
in the Bennett family. Except for her black hair, she also resembled the
Bennett women with her pale skin and dark blue eyes. The eyes of a seer,
Diana's grandmother would have said. A gift Diana was said to have inherited
given her sensitive nature and line of work. If she wasn't careful, the girl
would follow in Diana's footsteps. And until recently, Diana had been content
with her single, spinster lifestyle.
Diana smiled to herself at how big her niece had
grown. Ten years old, time flies.
It still amazed her how much her life had
changed and yet stayed the same. Working on cases of criminal masterminds,
murders, and thieves most weeks, but also finding comfort and solace in the
most secret of places right below the streets of NYC. Most cases she worked on,
she was thanked for her service, and that was the end of, at times, months of
work and with no further communication. Vincent and the world Below were the
exception.
A growling stomach brought Diana back to the
present. "Are you hungry? Your mom told me you like mac and cheese. And
despite what she says, I can cook."
Alex nodded, following her aunt back into the
main loft area. Her eyes settled on the blank blue board Diana used for work.
"That's good. So, are you really off the whole week?"
"Yup, I'm yours all week. Do you want to
catch a movie tonight or just-"
A sharp buzz from the intercom broke into her
thoughts. With one last look around the room, she went to the buzzer and
pressed the button. "Susan, Alex is fine-"
"Diana, it's Joe. I know
you have the week off, but I need to see you."
Diana frowned at the intercom. How many times
would her vacation get interrupted before it even got started? And yet, it was
unlike the District Attorney to come in person to her apartment building on a
Saturday. Maybe he just needed a lead on some case before he handed it off to
his staff.
"Make it quick."
Diana turned and did a quick scan of the loft.
Everything was set for her niece's stay. It still amazed her that Alex wanted
to spend a week here, but then her sister was going out of town for her work.
The rattle of the old gates in front of the elevator opening drew her attention
as Joe stepped out.
"Hi, sorry-"
"Diana!"
Instinctively, Diana bent and scooped the little
boy into a hug. Sandy blonde hair scratched her chin a moment before she pulled
back to inspect him for any injuries. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a
simple red shirt, the child looked like any other. Only his jacket gave one
pause with its frayed edges at the shoulders.
"What are… how did you get here?"
Diana asked, staring into the child's blue eyes. "You're okay, right?"
Jacob nodded, taking a calming breath.
Diana watched him a moment more. She didn't know
the science or exact nature of the bond the child and his father shared, but
she knew Vincent could feel Jake's calmness whenever he was near someone he
knew. The last thing she needed was Vincent jumping over the city skyscrapers
to reach his son. A feat Diana knew would happen in an instant if he sensed
Jacob in any true danger.
"The kid said he wanted to see you,"
Joe said.
Diana glanced up at the edge in Joe's voice.
"Who’s that, Aunt Diana?” Alex asked.
Introductions were quickly made before the
children settled in front of the TV. The chatter of Nickelodeon characters
played in the background as Joe and Diana stepped over to her empty workstation.
The District Attorney tugged at the cuffs of his
gray suit. His dark eyes shifted between the kids and Diana, suddenly uneasy.
“I know. Diana, how do you know this kid?”
“I rescued him and helped reunite him with his
father; why?”
“Hm, I don’t remember that case.”
“I don’t only work with the DA’s office,
Maxwell.” She swallowed a smile at those words. Maxwell had been the one who
brought her attention to Catherine Chandler’s murder case, to begin with.
Without him, who knew where Jacob, Vincent, and even Diana herself would be.
“Relax, Bennett, I was just saying my memory’s
horrible. And I met him in the lobby just now, but this is the third time this
month someone’s found this kid just wondering in Central Park.” He took a step
closer and lowered his voice. “If this keeps up, I’ll have no choice but to
call child services.”
“No, Joe, that’s not ness…”
“I don’t have a choice, Diana. The kid’s parents
clearly don’t care.”
“That’s not true. His father fought like hell…
heck for him after his mother…” Diana swallowed down the rage and bitterness.
Over the years, she had tried to convince Vincent to share Jacob with Joe, but
Vincent had been adamant that Joe would simply take his son if given the
chance. His wounds from six years ago at the hands of Gabriel hadn’t left him
unscarred. Even without a bond, Diana knew how tense Vincent became when his
son left his sight.
Diana tried again. “I know the kid’s dad, Joe.
He’s a wonderful man, but he likes to keep to himself. He has friends who come
and help. You know the saying it takes a village? Well, that’s the approach he
takes.”
“Is he…disabled?”
“No… like I said, he just likes to keep to
himself.”
Joe took a breath. “If this happens again, I
might have to speak to his father.”
“I’ll let him know, Joe. Trust me; the dad won’t
let this happen again. Now was there something else you needed?”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, Jenny and I wondered if you
and Alex might enjoy a concert in the city this Tuesday night.”
“Who's playing?”
“It’s a special holiday program. All the
favorites in Central Park.”
Diana raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t you have another couple you can go with?”
“All of them begged off,” Joe smiled, teasingly.
“Come on, Diana. It could be fun.”
Diana tapped her fingers against the desk in
thought. “Not really my thing, but Susan might like Alex getting some ‘culture’
while she’s with me.”
Joe stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That’s
the spirit. So, pick you guys up around 6:30??”
“I’ll let you know. Thanks, Joe.”
Diana led him back over the elevator.
Joe closed the gate and looked at her. “Just
remember what I said.”
Diana nodded. Her hand rested tentatively
against the grate as the elevator descended, and her mind raced. Joe couldn’t
have been further from Vincent's truth, but there were still several questions
unanswered. Why and how had Jacob become ‘lost’ for a third time when out in
the city? Even when she journeyed Below, Jacob was always surrounded by an
entourage of adults and children of various ages. While never given voice,
Diana had long suspected the community had taken it upon themselves to keep
Jacob safe. He was the rescued prince of the fairy tales Diana’s sister had
loved as a kid.
“Is everything okay?” Alex asked.
Diana turned back with a smile. “Yeah. Hey Alex,
can you go unpack some more? I need to talk to Jake alone, okay.”
Alex shrugged and went into the bedroom while
Diana sat beside Jacob.
“Jake, how did you get here?” Her loft, unlike
his mother’s apartment, was nowhere near the park.
“Climbed up the hole and then walked.”
“Alone?”
Jake nodded.
“Do you realize how dangerous that is?”
Jake shrugged.
“And your dad…how and where is he?”
Jake looked up at her. “He’s…okay. Sad
sometimes.”
“Jake, have you been going out to Central Park
by yourself?”
“No… got lost from the group.” His face lit up,
recalling something. Jumping off the couch, he ran and retrieved his backpack.
“I’m supposed to give you this.”
Diana took the tri-colored candle from his
outstretched hand. Had it been a year already since the last Winterfest?
Jacob smiled. “Dad would like you to come. It’s
this Friday.”
“Jake… I would like to, but I already have
plans.”
“Work,” Jake said.
Diana’s grin matched Jake’s teasing face. How
was it that he knew her usual excuse by now? Though her heart did quicken its
pace at the thought of seeing Vincent again. Her heart ached to realize it had
been three months since she had last seen him.
“No, you silly. Alex is staying with me for a
week and won’t leave until after Winterfest,” Diana said.
“But you have to come. Dad has this…” Jake
pouted and pointed to the candle. “You just have to come, Diana.”
“Maybe next time, Jake.”
Jake pouted but made no further comment.
“Cheer up, buddy. Alex, come out here,” Diana
called. “Who wants some mac and cheese for lunch?”
Tap, Tap.
Diana glanced up at the rooftop window, where
she could see a silhouette. She glanced at the clock and sighed. 1:30 am.
Carefully, she roused Jake and led him to the roof.
Despite the lay of the roof
blocking the worst of the chill, Diana tightened her jacket around herself. Her
fingers briefly tightened around Jacob’s small hand as if to make certain he
didn’t disappear from her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow shift
and step forward.
Even after six years, it took a split second to
recognize Vincent as he emerged from the shadows. The gentle breeze teased the
ends of his long golden mane, his large, powerful body hidden beneath the large
cloak he wore.
“Jake’s fine,” Diana said.
Vincent nodded and stepped forward to reclaim
his son. Despite his size, Jacob still seemed like the slumbering infant she
saw in his father’s arms during his naming ceremony. How was it possible so
much time had passed?
“I think he got lost from the group delivering
the Winterfest candles,” Diana continued.
Vincent’s sharp blue gaze rose to hers,
confused. “Diana, we never deliver candles more than a few days in advance. And
as I understand it, your niece is staying with you, isn’t she?”
Diana nodded as her gaze shifted between father
and son. Why would Jake lie about something like that? And the candle had
looked freshly made.
“Is… everything all right, Vincent?” Diana asked.
“Of course. Jacob might have gotten the dates
wrong. He’s still learning, why do you ask?”
Diana turned and looked over the city. The twinkling
lights a poor substitute for the stars their electric light hid in the night
sky. Only the half waxing moon could be seen. And even that held no answers.
“Joe Maxwell came by earlier.” She turned back
to Vincent. “He said Jake has been seen wandering around Central Park on his
own. Why isn’t anyone with him?”
“Is he certain it’s Jacob?”
“Enough that he threatened legal action against
the father. Vincent, why can’t we just tell him the truth?”
“Do you think he would allow me to raise
Catherine’s child?”
“You wouldn’t know unless you try.”
Vincent watched her for a moment. Diana stood
her ground even as her body felt like squirming beneath such an intense gaze.
“And there’s something else I wanted to ask,”
Diana said.
Vincent nodded for her to continue.
“You’ve been avoiding me these past two months.”
She peered over at him. “Have I done something wrong?”
“No.” He paused; his eyes flicked to the ground.
“I’ve just been busy.”
Diana sighed. She could admit that they both
tended to become obsessed with whatever task they had. They were both guilty of
canceling plans or just not showing up if something more important came up.
“Well…Jake said you wanted to see me. So, what
do you need to…” Her voice trailed off as Jake yawned against Vincent’s
shoulder.
Vincent shifted his son into a more comfortable
position. “I should go. Jake needs his rest, and you do too. I’ll come to see
you soon.”
Diana offered a small smile. “Good night, then,
Vincent.”
“Good night, Diana.”
Diana followed his retreat until father and son had vanished into the darkness.
Sunlight streamed in through the long row of
windows. Diana stretched and pushed stray pieces of red hair from her face with
a frustrated sigh. Vincent’s late-night visit hadn’t gone as well as she had
hoped. Why would Jake lie about Winterfest? He clearly thought his father
wanted to tell her something, but what? And what was the reason behind Jacob’s
escape acts? None of it made any sense.
Rolling onto her side, she blew out a breath of
frustration. How could she get into the minds of the most deranged and sick
criminals but have not a clue where to start on this puzzle? One thing at a
time, she told herself.
“Morning, Aunt Diana,” Alex said.
Diana swung her legs over the bed. “Morning,
Alex. Did you sleep okay?”
“Yeah, the bed was comfy.” Alex eyed the pullout
bed Diana had slept in. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Diana patted the mattress beneath her.
“I’ve certainly slept in worse places. Now, how about some breakfast?”
Together, aunt and niece tucked the pullout bed back into the couch, and Alex grabbed the remote. She flipped through the channels as Diana got up and went over to the kitchen area.
“Do pancakes sound good?” Diana asked.
Alex’s head popped over the couch. “Yum, with
blueberries?”
“And maple syrup, coming right up,” Diana said,
smiling. “Anything else?”
“No, but…” Alex’s eyes scanned the opened loft.
“Will Jake be joining us?”
“Ah, no. Jake’s Dad came and got him last night.”
Alex propped her hands on the back of the couch
and pointed upward. “Is that who you were talking to up on the roof last night?”
2
Allison
"Yeah, I'm
sorry if we woke you. Jake's dad came to find him when he didn't return with
the other children. He was getting worried and wasn't sure if he was here, but
this was the first place he thought of after checking where he usually goes and
not finding him. Come on, you wanna help me make these pancakes?"
Alex nodded, and
they set about getting their day started.
Across town, Joe
was in his office, going over some paperwork for the Mitch Denton appeal that
was coming up in a few weeks. There was a knock on his door.
"Come
in," he called without looking up.
He heard footsteps
come closer to his desk after hearing the door closed. He looked up into the
vivid blue eyes of Talia Winters, 5'8, dressed in a black business suit, her
long blonde hair framing her lovely face.
"Miss Winters,
what can I do for you?"
"I wanted to
make sure you had everything you needed for the Nolan appeal," Talia
answered as she took a seat across from him.
"Yes,
Catherine Chandler was very thorough when she prosecuted the original case.
Your notes regarding Jonathan Nolan's injuries and his home life helped her win
that case."
"I'm glad I
could help." Talia smiled a small coy smile.
"Can I ask you
a question?" Joe inquired.
"Sure,"
she replied.
"Have you had
any reports of a little boy, about five or six years old, wandering Central
Park on his own?"
"I happened to
run into a young boy at a colleague's place last night. Dressed exactly as you
described. She told me his father dropped him off to see her. I didn't make too
much of it since she seemed to know the child." Joe tried not to look too
guilty, telling the white lie to her.
"Can you tell
me this colleague's name at least so I can ask her some questions to make sure
the child is okay? I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't check this out to see
if this is the same child."
"Diana
Bennett," Joe told her.
"Thanks, Mr. Maxwell.
I appreciate the information."
"Please, call
me Joe. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No, I must
get back to my office. Like you, the work never waits."
"So true, Miss
Winters, so true."
"Talia,
please."
Joe and Talia rose
at the same time. She extended her hand, and as Joe clasped it, a little
electric shock shook him. He held her hand a moment longer, then let go.
Escorting her to his door, he held it open.
"Nice meeting
you, Talia."
"Likewise,
Joe."
She shyly slipped
past him, and he watched her as she walked down the hallway. Shaking his head
in reproach for his thoughts, he returned to his desk and again started poring
over the paperwork in front of him.
Talia returned to
her office and started pacing. How can I defuse this situation with the
DA's office? Talia thought. I've got to think of something and
get a message to Vincent to keep an eye on little Jake.
Talia composed a
message. Soon, it was on its way with Benny to be delivered to Vincent via the
Helpers network.
"That's
all I can do for now. I'm sure I'll be hearing from Mr. Maxwell again,"
she said aloud.
She then returned to her desk, where she called her secretary and asked her to pull all the recent reports on a child seen in Central Park. The secretary returned a few minutes later with a thin folder. Talia quickly looked through it and then put the file into the bottom drawer of her desk.
Diana and Alex
finished eating their pancakes and were cleaning up the kitchen after the
batter fight they had while making them, laughing and giggling along the way.
"So, what do
you want to do today?" Diana asked.
"Can we go to
the park? Maybe Jake will be there." Alex said as she put the towel back
in the door handle of the refrigerator.
"We can go to
the park, but I'm not sure Jake will be there. He may have chores to do, and he
may be in trouble for showing up here yesterday on his own." Diana grabbed
her army field jacket and helped Alex into her denim jacket.
"Oh."
Alex pouted a little.
The short time Alex
had spent with the child made her wish for a little brother. She thanked Diana
and ran to push the button for the loft elevator. "Come on," she
insisted.
Diana laughed and
went to join her. They rode the elevator to the ground floor, and together they
went out into the bright sunshine, ready to start their day.
3
cb mcwhorter
Vincent watched his little boy
inhale a bowl of oatmeal. Beside him, Father chuckled.
“You were like that at his age.
Voracious.”
“I thought that was when I was
a teenager?”
Father chuckled again. “You
were always voracious. It just took more to feed you when you were bigger.”
“I see.” Vincent finished his
muffin and contemplated having another, but the conversation made him self-conscious,
and he decided against it. He went back to staring at his son. “Jacob.” He
finally said.
The boy smiled at him.
“Why did you go to Diana’s
yesterday?”
“I wanted to see her,” the boy
said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“If you wanted to see her,
Jacob, you should have said something to your father or to me,” Father said.
“You know that you shouldn’t just leave home like that.”
“I know the way,” Jacob said.
“I’m glad you do,” his father
said. “But son, you don’t leave the Tunnels alone. You don’t leave the Hub
without permission. Those are rules for all the children, and you’ve known them
since you could talk.”
“You go Above,” Jacob said,
sounding rebellious now.
Vincent nodded. “But I didn’t
when I was your age. Do you have any idea how worried Mary was when we couldn’t
find you?”
“That wasn’t a kind thing to do
to Mary,” Father said.
Jacob frowned about that until
he thought of something. “She wasn’t there.”
“That’s right,” Father said.
“You were with Samantha. And nowhere near an entrance to Above.” He leaned
across the table. “You’ve done this several times now, Jacob. You’ve put
yourself and our community at risk. Do you know what that means?”
Jacob looked uncertain.
“You’re old enough to know that
our world stays safe by staying secret. No one goes Above without making sure
someone knows where they are, not even your father. And we do not do anything
to draw Topsiders’ attention to us. The police have noticed you walking in the
park alone.” Jacob looked at Father with alarm. “Yes, they have,” Father said.
“the man you met in Diana’s lobby knew that. He’s a lawyer for the police, and
he was very stern with Diana.”
“Why?”
“Because, up in the city of New
York, only bad parents let their little children wander alone.”
“Daddy’s not bad!” Jacob cried.
“No, he’s not. He’s not the one
breaking the rules.”
Jacob reddened. “I was.”
“No bedtime stories for a
week,” Father said sternly.
“NO!” the little boy started to
tear up. “Daddy!”
Vincent shook his head. “I was
ready to make it two weeks, but your grandfather talked me out of it.”
“No!” Jacob wailed.
“You should know that you’re
not the only one in trouble,” Father said. “Samantha was the one who was
supposed to be watching you lot and keeping you safe. She lost track of you.
She didn’t do her job.”
“No! Grandpa, wait!” But Father
had risen from the table and was walking towards Samantha. “Don’t!” Jacob
whined, to no avail. Father tapped Samantha on the shoulder and motioned her to
follow him out of the dining chamber.
Jacob sniffled.
“You should know that the
decisions you make have an effect on more people than just yourself, my son,”
Vincent said. “Good and bad.”
“But it wasn’t Samantha’s
fault,” the boy said.
“Of course, it was. She should
have known as soon as you left. She should have kept you out of trouble. You’re
still little. You were her responsibility.
“Were you trying to go see
Diana the other times you went to the park?”
Jacob shook his head. “One
time, I wanted to see the carousel.”
“And yesterday?”
“I wanted to see Diana. I
wanted to tell her to come see us.”
“Why?”
“Because I miss her as much as
you do, Daddy!”
Vincent sat back, reaching for
his tea to cover the look on his face. It was a futile gesture, really, to try
to hide his feelings from his son. The boy knew them no matter what he said or
what expression he schooled onto his face.
“Why are you keeping away from
her, Daddy? She loves us.”
Vincent looked at him sharply.
“She’ll be here for Winterfest. Which is not this Friday. You told her a lie,
Jacob. You’re having a bad week.”
Red-faced, Jacob stared at his
hands. “I should tell her sorry,” he muttered.
His father nodded. “When you
see her next. But you must not leave us again.”
“No, Daddy. I promise.”
Moments later, Samantha came
back into the dining chamber, cheeks flaming. As she walked by Jacob, she bent
to hiss in his ear, “Thanks a lot, Jacob!”
The little boy startled and
watched her walk away. “Where’s she going?” he said.
“Probably kitchen duty,”
Vincent said.
Jacob hung his head and cried.
They started at the Park
entrance near Strawberry Fields, where Diana was surprised to learn that Alex
actually knew the song. She knew the whole album, in fact.
“You know how Dad is about the
Beatles,” she said.
Well, yes, Diana knew, but that
didn’t mean she expected Alex to listen, really.
Diana had a thought over her
coffee. “Hey,” she said. “What did you bring to wear to a concert?”
Alex licked whipped cream off
her spoon. “I didn’t bring anything like a skirt.”
“Nice slacks?”
“Probably not nice enough that
Mom would approve.”
“I guess we go shopping,” Diana
said.
Alex put her wrist to her
forehead. “It’s a sacrifice I guess I have to make.”
“When did you start liking
shopping?”
“Since Mom started letting me
make some of my own choices.”
Diana laughed. “You are SUCH a Bennett!”
Kipper looked up to find a pair
of blue eyes staring through the gap in the stone he was supposed to be
monitoring. He jumped up, feeling guilty. The eyes backed away as he approached
the peer-hole. “Oh!” he said, smiling. “I didn’t hear you!”
“Gotcha!” Talia said. “What are
you reading?”
“Biology. Algae. It’s cool
enough, I guess.”
“Only ‘cause it’s slimy.” They
grinned at each other. “I’m here to see Father and Vincent. Should you announce
me?”
“I can if you want.” He
shrugged.
“I guess you should follow the
rules. We don’t need a grumpy Pascal.”
“Definitely not. It’s good to
see you.”
“Take care!” she said. As she
walked down the passage, the pipes began to ring.
Father was waiting for her. “My
dear girl!” he said as she hugged him tight.
“How are you?” she said.
“Talia,” she heard from behind
her.
“Vincent!” she spun and hugged
him.
“So what brings you here?” he
asked. “You sent a message.”
He held his hand out for her
coat and waved her to a chair. She sat and happily looked about her. “This room
never seems to change,” she said. “And yet, every time I come, there are more
books.”
Vincent eased into a chair
across from her. “We have given up trying to control Father’s addiction.”
She giggled. “I’m sure he can
stop whenever he wants.”
Father harrumphed. “That’s
enough out of you two.” As he passed by her chair, he put his hand on her
shoulder. “Mind if I have a look?”
She tilted her head to the side
so he could inspect her neck. She had her hair yanked up into a ponytail, a
look she never allowed herself up Top. But she was going home this evening, and
everyone there knew her from when the burns looked much worse. Father lightly
ran his finger down her throat, ignoring the little frisson of energy that came
with touching Talia. “She got it so smooth,” he marveled.
“I know,” she said. “I admit
that I had my doubts, but this is amazing. I mean, after all these years…”
“I assume you use makeup to
even out the color change?”
“Yeah. She said it will always
be paper white. But she also said that there’s such a thing as a therapeutic
tattoo.”
“What’s that?” Vincent asked.
“Instead of drawing pictures,
the artist colors the skin to match the rest.”
Father blinked at that. “Why
has no one thought of this before?” he said. “There have been tattoos for …
ever.”
“Are you going to do that?”
Vincent asked.
“I think I might.”
“Could be painful,” Father said.
“Not there. No sensory nerves,
remember?”
Father smiled ruefully at the
lovely young woman before him, remembering the viciously burned little girl
he’d first met. “I wish I’d had those tools then,” he said softly.
She squeezed his hand. “You had
the tools for the healing I needed most,” she said. “Me and Mom.”
Father sat and started to pour
tea. “So what information have you brought us?”
She took a cup and sipped
appreciatively. “The District Attorney has interested himself in a little boy
he has seen in the Park. And whom he met at a colleague’s apartment.”
“Diana’s,” Vincent said.
She looked at him in surprise.
“He mentioned a Diana Bennett. That’s your Diana?”
Vincent stopped himself from
denying Diana was his. It opened a line of thought he preferred to avoid. “She
loves us,” he heard his son say.
“Diana rescued Jacob from his
kidnapper,” he said.
And the child’s mother’s
killer. Every Helper knew the story. “I’ll have to talk to her,” she said. “I
told Maxwell I would.”
“Does Mr. Maxwell live near the
Park now, since he’s there so often?” Father mused.
“Not really,” Talia said. “He
goes there because Catherine used to walk there so much. He always scolded her
for walking there, and now he goes himself.”
The men looked at her for a
moment. Vincent shifted in his chair. “That’s good to know.”
“It wouldn’t do to run into
him, would it?” Father said.
Vincent shrugged. “He wouldn’t
see me.”
“What else did you learn?”
Father asked.
“I think he’s subconsciously
registered a similarity between Jacob and his mother. It makes him feel protective.”
“What does he want with Jacob?”
“Nothing other than to be sure
he’s safe and well. He feels he’s abandoned Catherine’s baby.”
“Anything else?” Father said.
She shook her head. “I only
shook his hand for a moment. I think it’s useful that those were his most
prominent thoughts. I might get more if – when – I talk to him on the phone.”
Vincent shifted again, staring
at the threadbare rug under his feet.
“You’re fretting,” she said.
“It will be OK.”
He cast her a beleaguered
glare. “Get out of my head,” he said.
She laughed. “That’s not from
contact with you,” she said. “That’s from interviewing bazillions of worried
fathers. You look just like one.”
“Well, Jacob has promised to
stop solitary trips Above,” he said. “He became upset when Samantha got in
trouble for losing track of him. Hopefully, he won’t seek to find a way to
escape without getting someone else in trouble. I don’t know what’s gotten into
the boy.”
“He’s school age, now,” she
said. “He’s starting to think in terms of independence. It will take a while
before he entertains adolescent rebellion, though.”
She grinned as Vincent threw
his head back and groaned. “Don’t even mention it!”
“Do you have anything as
prosaic as a phone number for Diana?” she asked. “She and I need to talk.”
“I actually do,” Vincent said.
“What has she said of this?”
“She thinks she should tell Joe
the truth. At least some of it.”
“You don’t like that.”
“No,” he growled.
“What worries you about that?”
“He’s a powerful man,” he said.
“If he decides to take Jacob away, what would stop him?”
She blinked in surprise. She
hadn’t expected that. “The law,” she said flatly. “You don’t just interfere
with other people’s parental rights.”
“He already threatened to call
child services,” Vincent reminded her.
She grinned. “Speaking of
dating, what’s this I hear about a handfasting for William and Su?”
Father grinned and launched
into plans for a ceremony at Winterfest.
“Wait, who’s cooking for Winterfest
if William is getting married?”
Father rolled his eyes.
“William is, of course, and there’s no talking him out of it.”
“Actually, it’s an ingenious
plan for him to get out of clean-up,” Vincent said.
“And how’s Chris?” Father
asked. He relished her dreamy smile. After five years, still dreamy. Good.
“Doing great!” she said.
“Graduating soon!”
“I hope we’ll get to help celebrate that?” Father said.
Vincent stood over his sleeping
son. The boy missed Diana. As much as Vincent, he said. Unfortunately, it
seemed unavoidable that he sensed his father’s heart just as Vincent could
sense his. And it seemed increasingly likely that Jacob could sense Diana.
“She loves us.”
Vincent knew she loved them.
Every day, he felt her love more and more. He quailed in guilt every time he
thought of it, and he spent a fair part of his day feeling guilty. How could he
betray Catherine like this? Given a choice, he would never entertain any
feelings for any other woman. Ever.
But it seemed that his heart,
or his psyche, or whatever part of his being governed his formations of
attachment had overridden his choice.
He’d taught young Talia how to
live with her inborn talent. How to detach her own feelings and thoughts from
those she read from people she touched. But apparently, he hadn’t learned much
about controlling his own gift.
But it wasn’t someone else’s
feelings he was fighting against, was it?
The last time he saw Diana, it
was all he could do to refrain from touching her. He felt how much she wanted
to touch him. He felt her mortification at her own yearning and wanted to ease
her mind. But what did that say about him? Why should she want someone who
could be so faithless?
Father had turned to Devin’s
mother when his world went dark, and he suffered guilt over that lapse for the
rest of his life. In his self-castigation, Vincent discounted the cogent facts
that at the time, Margaret had still been alive, and Grace dead during
childbirth and Father felt guilty for losing Grace as well as for cheating on
his wife. And he never once asked himself what Father would advise him to do.
He had hoped that staying away
from Diana would ease both their yearnings. All he’d succeeded in doing was
cause pain. And somehow, his son had acted on all these feelings and gotten
some very inconvenient strangers involved.
And he needed to talk to Diana
about this. Talia seemed to see Maxwell as less of a threat than he’d thought.
(Had she nearly laughed at him?) Maybe Diana had more insights to offer.
So, he needed to go Above. It was late enough that young Alex should be asleep.
He jumped down to the terrace
and looked through the skylight. Diana was in the pull-out bed, apparently
asleep. He took a deep breath and tapped on the window.
She sat up at once, and the
wave of hope that met him nearly choked him up. She smiled up at him as she
retrieved shoes and a coat from its hook, and then she was through the door.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry for the hour,” he
said.
She gave him quite the sardonic
look. “How’s the adventurer?”
“Chastened, I think. He’s
promised to follow the rules.”
She chuckled. “For now.”
“Not very reassuring,” he said.
She waited. “Has Talia Winters talked to you yet?”
“She left a voice mail, but
I’ve been all over town with Alex. Which has been even more fun than I thought
it would be.”
Which he knew, but he wouldn’t
hint at that. “What have you been up to?”
“We actually went to a concert
tonight. Me, a concert, would you believe?”
“Did she like it?”
“She actually did, and
actually, so did I. We decided that we’d been prepared for it by all those old
Looney Tunes cartoons.”
“How so?”
“They used classical music for
a lot of their background music. And Bugs Bunny actually adapted some opera for
the characters to sing.”
“Really?”
“Chasing a wabbit…” she sang
under her breath before she blushed and stopped. “I’ll have to show you
sometime.” She cleared her throat, and he decided that her embarrassment was
adorable. “Anyway, I’ll call her back. Wait. How do you know about her?”
“Would you believe she’s a
Helper?”
She gave a laugh. “You guys
have ins to everything, don’t you? You should use your powers to run the city.
It would be better.”
“Perish the thought.”
By this time, they were leaning
on the wall, looking down at the street. She shivered, and he mightily
restrained himself from wrapping his cloak around her. He used a turn to face
her as an excuse to take a step away. “Talia seems to think that Joe Maxwell is
still mourning Catherine. That he feels guilty about not making sure her child
is well.”
“How does she know this?” Good
Lord, did he say that out loud to a social worker?
“Talia has … a gift. If you
don’t want her to know every thought in your head, don’t touch her. He shook
her hand.”
“And the first thing she saw
was his love for Catherine?”
“His guilt for abandoning her
child.” Vincent stopped so suddenly that Diana turned away from the lights of
the street below to question him. She realized that he was staring past her
shoulder just as she heard the scrape of slippers on the tiles.
Oh, no.
“Wow,” said Alex from behind
her. “You’re beautiful.”
Diana spun around. “Alex…”
The girl shrugged. “It’s too
late, isn’t it?’ she said. “I’ve seen him.” She ignored her aunt’s glare. “I
mean, that’s why you’re meeting up here in the cold, so I don’t see him, right?
You’re going to have to hypnotize me.”
“It just so happens I know how
to do that,” Vincent said.
“How do you know we aren’t
meeting so no one overhears our conversation?” Diana said, before shock at
Vincent’s comment set in.
“Cool!” Alex squealed. “Can you
show me how? And you’re not working, Aunt Diana, so he’s not here for work.”
She stuck a hand out towards Vincent. “I’m Alex.”
He gravely shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard much about you. I’m Vincent.”
“I wish I could say I’ve heard
about you.”
Diana sighed. “I guess we might
as well go in, since it’s, um, cold out here. And you’re up,” she glared at her
niece some more. The niece ran to the door to open it for them, bowing as the
adults passed by.
“I’ll put water on for cocoa,”
Alex said and ran to the kitchen.
The adults sat in the chairs
flanking the tousled bed. “So, does she have a suggestion about what to do
about Joe?” Diana asked.
“Actually, she agrees with
you,” he said miserably.
“She had to have said more than
that.”
“She thinks that the two of you
can come up with enough to satisfy him about the boy he saw here at your place.
That maybe you can disconnect him from the sightings in the Park. And that at
some later date, you can tell him more about Catherine’s child.”
Alex appeared with a tray of
mugs, handing one to Vincent before perching on Diana’s chair to hand her
another. “Who’s Catherine?” The adults glanced at each other uncomfortably. “Uh
oh,” Alex said. “Did I put my foot in something?”
Vincent sighed. “Catherine is
Jacob’s mother.”
When he said nothing more, she
said, “And you’re his father.”
He nodded.
“Good,” she said. They looked
askance at her. “What?” she said. “People should have good parents.”
“You think I’m a good father?”
he said.
Alex glanced at her aunt.
“Isn’t he?”
“Actually, he’s awesome.”
“So what’s the big?”
In spite of himself, Vincent
chuckled.
“And what does Joe need to know
about Jacob for?”
“Do you know Joe Maxwell?” he
asked.
“We went to the concert with
him and Jenny tonight,” Alex said.
Diana shot Vincent a wry look.
“Jenny?” he asked.
“Yes. He’s dating Jenny
Aronson.”
“Catherine’s Jenny?”
“Why Catherine’s Jenny?”
Alex asked.
“She and Catherine were best
friends,” Diana replied.
More awkwardness. “This is a
really long story, isn’t it?” Alex asked.
The adults nodded. “And you’re
not going to tell me, are you?” Alex persisted.
Diana sighed. “I’ll tell you a
little. Later.” She shrugged at Vincent when he raised his eyebrows. She was
going to have to say something. The kid was too persistent.
“You can practice on her for
Joe,” Vincent said.
“Is Joe her best friend, too?”
“He was her boss,” Diana said.
“And that’s all for now.”
Alex sighed dramatically. “I’ve
just about finished my cocoa, anyway. I guess I’ll take myself back to bed
before I’m sent.”
Vincent smiled. The kid was
irresistible. “It was a pleasure to have cocoa with you.”
“Would anyone believe you?”
She pondered. “In that case, I
could tell people everything, and they’ll just call me imaginative.”
“We’ll talk about this,” Diana
said repressively.
Alex grinned and kissed Diana
on the cheek, leaving behind her cocoa mustache. She skipped to the bedroom.
Diana rolled her eyes and wiped her cheek.
Vincent chuckled and shook his
head. “Is she anything like you were?”
“Way too much.”
“What do you plan to tell her?”
“Bare bones about Catherine.
Bare bones about you and how you stay out of the public eye.” Sighing, she put
her mug down. “But then she might search things on the internet until she
learns far too much.”
“What could she find?” he asked
nervously.
“There might be newspaper
articles about how Joe became District Attorney, and she might find Catherine,
and I’ll figure it out from there. If all she gets is what’s on the Net, it’ll
be easy to deal with.”
“What else would there be?”
“This I do not know. I haven’t
checked lately. I’ll take a look.”
He finished his cocoa and waved
the mug. “This isn’t as bad as one would anticipate.”
She laughed, and he felt an
inner glow. He’d made her laugh. It felt good.
“I’ll think about Joe. Between
you and Talia, you’ve made me feel sorry for him. If anyone knows what it is to
love Catherine, to mourn her… I am his brother in that, I suppose.”
“There’s so much more to
consider, though,” she said.
“Are you backing off, now?”
“Just anticipating your next
argument.”
He shook his head. “I’m
bedeviled by people who are much too perceptive. You and Talia and your niece
is well on her way to following in your footsteps.”
“God, I hope not. There are
other uses for this gift. Sometimes I wish I’d looked for those, instead, myself.”
“Forgive me for saying I’m glad
you didn’t.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
He thought of pointing out that without her, he’d never have found Jacob, but
if he were honest with himself, it wasn’t what he meant this time. He felt his
cheeks warm, and he looked down into his empty mug. Talia talked about Joe’s
inability to move on. Did his friends talk about his own inability to move on?
He gave himself a mental shake. Too much for one night.
He looked at Diana. She’d
collected herself. “I think we’ll need to talk some more about all this,” he
said.
She made a face. “Yeah. We’ll
figure it out. We always do. The main thing is to keep Jake out of the
spotlight.”
“Let’s hope that’s not a tall
order.” He stood. “He wants to see you.”
“Alex goes home Saturday
afternoon.”
“Sunday, then? Lunchtime?”
Her smile lit the room.
“I’ll come to the Park entrance.”
4
T'Mara
Diana did not find much sleep that night. She
had a lot to think about. Alex, for instance. She would have to talk to her
niece in the morning and give her some explanation. But what
exactly should she tell her? How much of the truth could a ten-year-old be
trusted with? And how much of it all was suitable for such a young girl? After
all, the whole affair surrounding Catherine's abduction and death, little Jacob's
birth, Gabriel, and his minions, all this had been a traumatic experience for
herself as well as for Vincent and everybody else Below. How much of it could
and should she reveal to her niece?
Diana tossed on her bed. How much might Alex
find out on her own? How much of all those events had transpired to the public?
How much could still be found on the internet? Definitely the part about
Moreno's demise and Joe Maxwell becoming the new District Attorney, but had the
news back then reported a connection between that occurrence and Catherine
Chandler's death? What about Burch? The fire at the Burch Tower, the explosion
of the “Compass Rose” - had any of these events been presented as even remotely
connected to the Chandler case?
Diana was not sure anymore. Too much had been
going on back then; she had not really had time to follow the news. True, she had
checked it out later, once Gabriel had been dealt with, and Vincent had safely
returned home with his son. But of course, she had scanned the reports mostly
to make sure they contained no hints that could lead to the discovery of the
world Below and had not paid much attention to other details. She would have to
check the old news again, preferably before she talked to Alex, in order to
reach a decision about how much – or how little – she could tell her.
Diana got up. Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, now
was as good a time as any to have a look at her computer. Carefully, so as not
to wake Alex again, she picked up her laptop and moved to the kitchen.
Once she’d searched all that was relevant, Diana
found it difficult to concentrate on what she found. Sure, the part about
Catherine, her relationship with Vincent, Joe, and Jenny, was part of what she
must tell Alex, but that was only half the story. Since her niece
had met not only little Jacob but Vincent as well, Diana knew she would have to
reveal at least some details about Below.
Diana bit her lips. That was the trickiest part
of it all and the one she felt most uncomfortable about. In all those years
since she first had met Vincent, she had never before talked about Below to
anybody other than a Helper. Now she would have to give her niece some
information about Vincent's world.
There was also the fact to consider that Alex
and Jacob had seemed to bond the other night. Even before she knew that there
was some mystery involved, Alex had hoped to meet Jake again the day they had
been to the park. She had obviously genuinely liked the boy. Wouldn't she beg
Diana to take her Below, once she learned about this World, not just out of
curiosity, but also to meet her little friend again, especially, since given
the current situation, it was unlikely that Jake would be allowed Above any
time soon?
Diana sighed. And what about Jake? Would he want
to see Alex again? What if the two kids wanted to stay in contact? Was there a
way that could be arranged without actually taking Alex Below?
One step at a time, Diana decided, and she once
again tried to concentrate on her screen. She would worry about that later. Now
she needed to decide how much she could tell Alex and what topics or names she
could safely omit. According to the news available on the internet, they did
not seem connected to Catherine in any way.
It was close to 8 a.m. when Diana finally had a
rough idea of what to tell Alex. Joe was, of course, a different case. Once
– if – she and/or Talia would tell him about Jake, they could
not be quite as vague. After all, he had played a role in the investigation of
Catherine's death, he knew too many details. He had even met Father! But the
talk with Joe could wait; Alex was the problem at hand.
Diana shut down her laptop and decided to get ready for the day. Alex would wake up soon...
Diana emerged from the bathroom after a long
refreshing shower to find Alex sitting at the kitchen counter.
“Storytime!” the youngster yelled excitedly.
“Breakfast first,” Diana tried to stall for
time. Even though she now had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to say, she
was not looking forward to this conversation at all.
Alex jumped up, took a bottle of milk from the
fridge, and started to rummage through the kitchen cabinet.
“Where do you keep the bowls?”
she asked moments later, victoriously waving a carton of cornflakes. “Breakfast
is coming up right now, and you can tell me while we eat!”
“Okaaaay,” Diana knew there was no point in
delaying the inevitable any longer. She quickly put two bowls and spoons on the
table and sat down with her niece.
“You know, I thought about it a bit last night,”
Alex began. “I think I have figured out a few details.”
“Oh, have you?” Diana teased her. “Then why do
you need me to tell you the story?” She decided to listen to Alex's theory
first and to take it from there.
“Yeah,” Alex began, “there are a few things I
already know, like you know Joe from work, Catherine – Jake's mother, and even
though said it, I think she is dead – anyway, this Catherine worked for Joe.
Vincent is Jake's father, but obviously not close to Joe or Jenny, who was
Catherine's best friend, since he did not know that the two are dating.
“Okay, okay,” Alex continued after quickly
catching her breath, “I get it. Apparently, I was not meant to meet Vincent,
and maybe Catherine was like you and did not want her acquaintances to meet
him, am I right?”
Diana nodded. “As you can imagine, it might not
be safe for Vincent if too many people knew about his existence,” she
explained. “Scientists, doctors, genetics experts, etc., would have a field
day, using him for all sorts of experiments. That is also the reason why I must
ask you to keep his existence a secret.”
Alex frowned. “It would practically make Jake an
orphan if his dad were carted off to some research facility, wouldn’t it?” she
asked, “Since his mom is already dead.”
“It most definitely would be devastating and
very traumatic for Jake,” Diana agreed. She was touched by her niece's concern
for the boy.
“But what I don't understand, how did you meet
Vincent, if he’s such a big secret?” Alex continued. “It can’t have been
through Joe or Jenny since they don't know. Was it Catherine? Did you work on a
case with her once? Did she tell you? But why would she have told you if she
hadn't even told her best friend, Jenny? And how did she get
to know Vincent?”
“One question after the other,” Diana
interrupted Alex's ramblings. “First, Catherine met Vincent when he saved her
life. She had been assaulted, and he found her lying injured in Central Park
and brought her to a place where her injuries could be treated.” That had to be
enough for the moment. She was not going to start this conversation with talk
about Below.
“I never met Catherine, but I investigated her murder,”
she therefore quickly jumped to another one of Alex's questions.
Alex's eyes grew as big as
saucers, and her jaw dropped. “Murdered?” she gasped. “Jake's mom was murdered?
I thought maybe she had been sick, or maybe there had been an accident... Does
Jake know?”
“Jake is still too young to know all the
details,” Diana mumbled. Truth be told, with the connection between the boy and
his father, she was not exactly sure how much Jake – albeit probably
subconsciously - already knew.
“How old was he when...?” Alex suddenly felt
reluctant to say it out loud.
“He had just been born,” Diana explained. “He
never had a chance to meet his mother.” She gave Alex a short overview of what
had happened approximately six years ago. How Catherine had disappeared pretty
much without a trace while investigating an assassination attempt on Joe, how a
couple months later her body had been found in her own apartment, and how
during the autopsy it had been revealed that she had given birth shortly before
her death.
“And Jake?” Alex was now listening with bated
breath. “Where was he?”
“Patience, my dear, I am getting to it! Anyway,
that's where I came in,” Diana explained. “I was put in charge of the
investigation. It was a very complex situation, and it took a while to figure
it all out, but while working on that case, I met Vincent.”
“Or rather, I stumbled across him,” she added
with a smile, recalling how she had found an injured and feverish Vincent lying
on Catherine's grave. What a strange coincidence it had been that she had
chosen that very night to go to the cemetery! She had suddenly had a feeling
that maybe visiting Catherine's grave could give her some insight into the
case. But from the moment she had found the injured man – Catherine's lover –
her life had taken a whole new turn.
Diana stared at her cornflakes, unable to speak,
momentarily overwhelmed by the realization of just how strong her feelings for
Vincent had become over the past few years.
“You are blushing!” Alex smirked.
“What? No, I … I mean, I was just thinking....”
“Sure you are blushing,” Alex insisted. “You
like him, don't you? And him? Does he like you? Are you two dating? I mean,
since Catherine is dead, he is available, right?”
A thought suddenly struck the girl. “That would
be so cool!” she exclaimed. “If you and Vincent married, Jake would be my
cousin!”
Diana laughed, a slightly embarrassed laugh.
“Well, I have to disappoint you, my dear, but Vincent and I, we are not dating.”
“So you met Vincent while working on that case,”
she stated. “But where was Jake at that time?”
Diana knew that she was treading on thin ice
here. That was the part of the story that had not been covered too well in the
news, and she did not want to reveal too many details about what had happened
back then.
“Well, the people that had abducted Catherine
had somehow found out about Vincent and wanted to get their hands on him,” she
explained. That was technically true, even though it was only half the truth.
She did not want to tell Alex that Gabriel had planned to turn Vincent into a killing
machine and to use him as breeding stock for blood-thirsty monsters. Let her
believe that whoever had abducted Catherine had wanted Vincent only for
scientific experiments.
“They used Catherine as bait. It took Vincent a
long time to figure out where they held her, and when he finally found out, she
had just given birth. The kidnappers were afraid that the police might have
found their traces and left. They could not take Catherine, who was weakened by
the birth, with them, but feared she might be able to tell the police a lot
about them, so they injected her with a deadly poison and left her to die. They
kept the baby as bait for Vincent.”
“And you met Vincent, and together you found
Jake?” Alex asked.
“Well, yes, that's more or less what happened,”
Diana agreed, glad that she did not need to provide any more details. “Though
we did have some help,” she added. Now was the time to hint at Below. “Joe did
play an important role, as did some … friends. Father, for instance.”
“Father?” Alex looked puzzled. “Your and mom's
dad died years ago!”
“No, not my dad,” Diana explained. “Vincent's
dad, everybody that knows him calls him Father.”
“Vincent's father?” Alex was excited. “What is
he like? Does he look like Vincent? And have you met Vincent's mom as well?”
Diana laughed. “No, Father is just an ordinary
elderly gentleman, and he is not really Vincent's father; he just raised him.
You see, Vincent is a foundling; he was abandoned as a baby, and Father took
him in. And before you ask, we know nothing about his real parents or why he
looks the way he does.”
Alex nodded. She could imagine that parents would be scared if for one reason
or another, their baby looked like Vincent and that they might have wanted to
get rid of such a child.
“But it must have been hard for
this Father-person to raise a child like Vincent,” she mused. “What did the
neighbors think, and where did Vincent go to school and all that.”
Diana nodded. “There were, of course, some
problems, like whenever Vincent got sick, for even though Father is a doctor,
he could never be certain how Vincent would react to treatment or medication.
But schooling was never a problem since Father taught Vincent himself. And as
to neighbors... well, they live in a secluded community, where everybody knows
the other. Since Father is something like the leader of the community, Vincent
was easily accepted.”
“So there are a lot of people
that know Vincent,” Alex quickly had found out the weak point in Diana's story.
“Are they all keeping their mouths shut about him? How come none of them has
ever had a slip of the tongue when talking to friends or co-workers, and what
about visitors to this community, or repair people like plumbers or
electricians?”
Diana inwardly cursed her niece's sharp
intellect. That kid was far too perceptive for her own good.
“They have very little outside contact,” she
began, “they do not need outsiders for repair; they can do it all themselves.
None of them works outside the community; therefore, they have no co-workers to
whom they could inadvertently reveal Vincent's existence.”
At that moment Diana's phone rang.
“I'll quickly see who that is!”
Glad for the interruption, Diana jumped up to
answer the call. Alex could overhear only Diana's part of the conversation, but
she had a feeling that this was important.
“Oh, Talia,” Diana said, “yes, I did get your
message, and I am sorry for not calling back sooner, but I am off duty this
week since I have my niece staying with me … yes, Jake was here... I know...
no, not Joe, our other mutual acquaintance has told me… yes, that, too... yep,
and we agree about Joe. Look, Talia, I think we definitely should meet and talk
about how to proceed. We have to make absolutely sure how much Joe can be
told... yeah, probably Jenny as well… believe me, I know what I am talking
about... I am dealing with a similar situation right now... next week... how
about Chinese... okay then, see you on Monday!”
“Who was that? Someone you work with? You talked
about Joe? And Jake?” Alex asked innocently once Diana had returned to the
table.
“Somebody I will have to meet next week to
discuss how we can make sure Joe believes us that Jake is not a neglected
child,” Diana tried to evade the question.
“Does this person live in Vincent's community
since she knows Jake?” Alex questioned her.
“Not really,” Diana explained. “She is more like
me, an outsider who knows them.”
“Okay,” Alex thought carefully
about her next question. “Since I am now also an outsider who knows them...
just like you and the person you just talked to on the phone… can we now go and
visit? It can't be too far away, since Jake could walk here on his own...”
5
Cindy Rae
“I said ‘no,’” Joe repeated into the phone.
Mitch Denton’s folder was in his hand. “No parole for Denton. Not so much as a
short week or time off for Christmas. His own father thinks he should stay in
jail. Who am I to argue?”
Joe listened to the argument coming through the
receiver, then shut it down again.
“Good behavior? You gotta be kidding. He’s a mob
enforcer. He shot Cathy Chandler in the back. She carried the scar until the
day she…” He bit his lip, stumbling over the next phrase. “…the day
she died,” he concluded.
Joe closed his brown eyes over an image he
couldn’t get rid of, mentally. If he lived another hundred years, he’d never
forget the sight of her in her coffin. Catherine Chandler. Beautiful Catherine. Radcliffe.
His Cathy, once upon a time, and in their own way.
The man on the other end of the line had
continued speaking. Joe let him say his piece.
“Tell him he can try again in two years, and be
happy we didn’t press for the max, the day he turned himself in,” Joe replied.
He hung up the phone and shut his office door.
Pulling down the darts he kept pinned to the board, he began throwing those.
Hard.
The day she died. After being held for how long, exactly?
How scared she must have been. How terrified.
Two darts hit the bullseye. One bounced off
triple twenty. He collected them all and stepped back farther, making the
target harder to hit.
Terrified. Pregnant. Dear God. And here I stand, throwing
darts at a board, while Mitch Denton wants time off for good behavior. I’m
sorry, Cathy. I don’t think I did anything right by you, some days. I never
even found your kid.
His mind then did something the investigator in
him had trained itself to do, almost without volition. It ‘clicked’ on the last
six-year-old child he’d seen.
Jake. Bennett says she knows the father, that he needs a
lot of help, raising him. Well, don’t we all need that?
He swung hard but let go late. The dart buried
itself into the black rim, out of range of any point. Two more bad throws
followed it. In the points, but nothing good.
Joe sighed and ran his hand under his collar,
massaging a tight neck muscle there. Joe Maxwell carried his own scar, an
unsubtle parting gift from the night Pat Hanlon’s car had blown up and sent him
to the hospital. A burn mark was hidden under his dress shirt, one that began
on his left shoulder and crept up one side of his neck. It wasn’t large, but it
was “there.” He knew he’d never have it “repaired.” He carried it as
a reminder of all he’d lost the night he’d told Catherine Chandler to get a
certain book out of his belongings at the hospital.
He rubbed the neck muscle until it loosened
some, then gave the dartboard a dismissive glance. Throwing darts against the
board wasn’t going to make this day any better. He focused on the things in his
life he thought he could control.
I need to find out about that kid. I need to make sure he’s
okay. And I need to make sure Mitch Denton never sees daylight.
The desk phone rang.
“Maxwell,” Joe said shortly, snatching it up off
its cradle.
He listened, only for a moment.
“And you’re hard of hearing. I already told your
office, Mitch Denton stays locked—“
Harry Bundy, Mitch Denton’s designated
representative at his parole hearing, spoke into the phone: “Mr. Maxwell,
you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’m not calling to discuss terms, just to
pass on a message, before Mr. Denton’s parole hearing. It’s from Mr. Denton
himself, and he says it’s only for you.”
Joe pulled a wry face. “If you’re passing on a
threat, I love it. I’ll add it to the list of why Mitch Denton should stay in
jail.”
“The thing is, it’s er… it’s not a threat, sir.
At least I don’t believe it to be. Mr. Denton was most emphatic that he needs
to speak with you prior to his parole hearing. And he said… he said it’s about
Catherine Chandler.”
Joe grew angry. “You tell that maniac I said he
keeps Cathy Chandler’s name out of his lying mouth!”
“He says… he says he might have information
about the father of Catherine Chandler’s baby, Mr. Maxwell, perhaps even
information about the child itself. And it’s information he’s willing to trade.
He said he thought that might be of interest to you. Don’t shoot the messenger.
I’ll just tell him you don’t want to—“
“Wait,” Joe said, raking his hair a second time. How in the hell does Mitch Denton know anything about who Cathy was seeing? What kind of lie is he making up? And why… why after six years… try to trade on it?
He looked at the darts on the wall; stared at
the one that had missed its mark. After six years of missing the mark, when it
came to figuring out what had happened to Cathy Chandler, to her child, now he
had what might be a lead.
From the least trustworthy person on the planet
and in the circumstances where that person was most likely to lie.
It would be a fool’s errand to go see Denton.
Joe knew it.
Nothing ventured…
“Tell Denton I will meet with him. Tomorrow. For
five minutes. And if he wastes my time, I’ll ask them to add a year onto his
sentence.”
The man on the end of the line was clearly
surprised. “I’ll pass that along.”
--
“Go away, Jake,” Samantha said, adding a peeled
potato to the pile.
The little boy stood his ground on the uneven
floor of William’s kitchen. “Can’t,” he said, watching her jerky movements. Peeling
potatoes was Samantha’s least favorite chore. “Can’t, when you’re mad at me.”
He pulled over a stool and grabbed a peeler from the container of kitchen
tools. He then picked up a potato and began working on it.
“What did they give you?” Samantha asked,
relenting. It wasn’t her fault he’d gone up to the park. But it was her fault
that she hadn’t kept a closer eye on him.
“No bedtime stories. For a whole week!” Jacob
complained.
In anyone else, the remark would have been
almost trivial, compared to Samantha’s punishment. But she knew how much Jacob
loved storytime with his father and grandfather. All things considered, they’d
got off about even.
“I got vegetable peeling duty. It’s carrots
after this. And I have to help set up the wedding.”
Jacob kept his eyes on his chore. “Wedding.
William loves Su.”
“Yeah. He does.” She finished with one potato
and grabbed another.
“She thinks he’s handsome,” Jacob commented,
scraping the brown peel off one end. “It’s weird.”
“How do you know that?”
Samantha asked a touch of laughter in her voice. There were many ways to
describe William. “Handsome” wasn’t necessarily the first one that came to mind.
Jacob shrugged. “Just know.”
Jacob often did that. He often seemed to “know”
how people felt, sometimes almost what they were thinking. Considering who his
father was, Samantha didn’t find that all that odd.
“So… why’d you go up?” she asked.
Jacob shrugged again. “I miss her. Daddy misses
her. That’s all.”
“Da-- Vincent misses Diana? Nah. They’re just
friends. I can’t think of the last time she came down,” Samantha replied
offhandedly.
“Grandpa’s birthday. She got him a new chain for
his pocket watch,” Jacob said, without missing a beat.
Samantha cast him a sidelong glance. That such a
young boy would remember such a detail said something. She just wasn’t sure
exactly what. She decided to explore that a little.
“Father’s birthday. I remember. We should have
had it in the Great Hall, it was so crowded. Diana looked pretty.”
“She was okay,” Jacob allowed, recalling a vivid
blue blouse that had made her azure eyes look even more lovely. “Daddy liked
her. Then felt sad.”
“At the party?” Samantha asked, trying to
remember the scene.
“After. She loves us.”
Shrewd, teenage eyes grew more interested.
“Diana does?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.
“Yep.” He set down the completely peeled potato
and reached for a big one to show Samantha how sorry he was.
“She should say it, then,” Samantha concluded
easily. “Su told William she loves him.”
Jacob considered that. “Maybe. Maybe Daddy
should say it.”
Samantha’s hands stopped their motion. “Jacob…
are you saying Vincent loves Diana?”
Jacob looked down at the vegetable. It was
sometimes easier to plumb the secrets of the big boy books he couldn’t quite
read yet than it was to understand the complexities of what his father was
feeling.
Samantha set down her chore and gave his
shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Grown-ups are stupid, sometimes.” Adolescence had
taught her as much. That, and that she was very fond of the little boy sitting
beside her.
“William’s not sad when he thinks about love
with Su,” Jacob observed.
“William’s got other things on his mind. Like
how the soup’s gonna be late if I don’t get a move on.” She squeezed his
shoulder again, then picked up the half-peeled potato. “Thanks for helping.”
Jacob’s expression brightened. “You’re not mad
anymore?”
“Nah. But no more sneaking Topside. Especially
when it’s me watching you,” she warned.
“Promise,” Jacob said, crossing his heart with
the potato peeler.
6
Stace
“I know Mitch Denton is a lying sack of-“ He
cleared his throat. “I know he’s a liar, and he’s made of lies!” Joe
said, exasperated. “But half of me wants to hear what he has to say.” His gut
seemed to say there was skeptically, something. His gut wasn’t generally
entirely wrong. “I don’t know; I think maybe there’s something there.”
Edie kept plinking away at the keyboard. “Which
half?”
Joe looked blankly at her. “What?”
She stopped clicking keys and looked up from her
monitor. “Which half of you wants to hear from Mitch?”
“What do you mean?” Joe bristled defensively.
“Is it the half that can't sleep wondering about
her child, or the half that isn’t through making people pay because Cathy’s
gone?”
Joe just blinked. Was that fair? He
didn’t want to admit that was a legitimate and fair question. But he was sure
it probably was because he wasn’t sure he positively knew the answer. “Little
of column A, little of column B?”
“C’mon!“ Edie threw up her hands. “I mean,
that’s fair but, it’s still Mitch-I’m-a-Mob-Lackey-Denton! Why would we really
care what Denton has to say about anything- and can he even be believed at this
late date?”
A heavy sigh as Joe swirled his coffee in its
cup. “They say… he says he might have information about the father of Cathy’s
baby- maybe even about the child itself.”
Edie was about to interject a thought when she
glanced up and recognized the sadness in his eyes.
Joe peered into his coffee cup. “Just knowing
there’s her kid out there somewhere and I need to – I need to find him. I need
to know he’s safe and keep him safe. I couldn’t do it for Cathy; maybe at least
I could do it for him.”
With a furrowed brow, Edie pursed her lips and
softly sighed in thought. “But doesn’t it seem weird that he’s chosen to spit
this out now instead of over six years ago?” Her tone was a bit more gentle
than before, even though still tinged with sarcasm. “Maybe like when it would
have been more relevant and much more valuable information to trade? Like he
just now thought of it? It ain’t like they don’t get the Times and TV in jail.”
Joe shifted uncomfortably. He’d
thought the same thing earlier. But he did feel a little called out now. “Well,
I know what you mean. But what if he did know something about
the father of Cathy’s baby?”
Edie clicked away on her keyboard and raised an
eyebrow. “I mean, really, Joe, what could Denton really
know about that baby’s father that’s actually useful? Even if he did -he’s one
of them that’d throw someone under the bus if it’d benefit him or
even just out of spite. It’s not like Cathy, and he were acquaintances, much
less friends before and certainly not after her hauling him in.”
“I know,” Joe walked over and topped off his
coffee. “Edie- I mean, between the timing and the content, I know it’s a lead
from the least trustworthy person on the planet- next to Moreno- for sure.”
“I mean, Think about it, Joe. What if your roles
were reversed, and Miss Cathy Chandler was in your position
right now, after everything that happened on that case. Do you think she’d have
any stock in what Mitch Denton had to say?” Edie continued her thought as she
gathered up her things. “What would Cathy do?”
Edie replied, checking her watch. Comparing it
to the office clock, she scrunched her nose. “Now, if I’m gonna get lunch, I
better scoot, or all the good push-button-sandwiches will be gone.” Grabbing
her shoulder bag, she slung it over her shoulder, smiled, and headed out the
door.
Joe watched Edie head off to lunch. He wasn’t
hungry (again) and went back to his office. A bad habit learned from Cathy.
Sometimes because he was toeing the line too much, and sometimes because he
wasn’t toeing the line enough. Sometimes the lesson learned was too late, or in
hindsight. I’ve had to learn that the line isn’t static, and things too
often aren’t always black and white, even though we’d like them to be.
What would Cathy do? He smirked. Maxwell walked
out and returned to his office a few minutes later with a fresh
push-button-coffee latte. He took a sip. Not bad. He could see
Radcliffe’s fondness.
What would Cathy do?
After everything that happened on that case, Joe
was pretty sure that she wouldn’t have walked across the street to spit on him
and wouldn’t have peed on Mitch Denton if he was on fire. Hypothetically.
Furthermore, if their roles were reversed, Cathy
would probably keep looking until something panned out. She was pretty stubborn
that way. She would have solicited help and advice from Edie because that woman
was the backbone of the department. He was already doing that right, at least.
She was the tenacious researcher that would find the information you asked for
or needed one way or another. Edie also had an in with the IT department and
could almost always hook you up with the right technician.
What would Cathy do?
At the next available opportunity, she’d have
something really smart and clever to say to Mitch. He put
slipped a pocket memo in his trousers- he was going to have to work on that.
It’d be something insinuating she’d sorted out exactly what she wanted without
his input. Plus, a warning to not try playing her again- unless he’d like to be
put away longer than he’s already going to be locked up for.
That’s what Cathy would do.
He picked up his phone by the cradle and tucked
the handset under between his jaw and shoulder. Half sitting on the only corner
of his desk that wasn’t a file folder or paper minefield, he peered at Bundy’s
office number. He punched the number into the keypad and waited for an answer.
Nada. He waited for the tone and left a brief message about how he was suddenly
tied up and couldn’t make it today and hoped to reschedule before plunking the
handset back into the cradle.
Maxwell’s mind kept coming back to his previous
thought: How
the hell WOULD Mitch Denton know anything about who Cathy was seeing? Even IF
he did, what could he know about her baby?? What was he playing at anyway, and
how does he even know about this? Could he be saying whatever out of spite?
He took a thoughtful swig of his
push-button-latte. Yes. Spite for Cathy or the Dad- maybe both.
Maybe he’d run it all by Bennett and tap her
intuition – which almost always seemed to be on the right track, if not just
outright on the nose. He’d let Denton sweat a little bit instead of impulsively
running over there on short notice.
Joe knew to follow his gut- because there was
always some tasty chocolate-covered cheese-nugget of truth. As he’d gotten
older, he realized that idealistic, impulsive young Joe sometimes made a mess
of things. He ran his hand thru his hair. It seemed like this might be one of
those times when he should slow down and buck his own impulsiveness. Denton’s
hearing wasn’t for two more weeks. He could wait.
On the other hand, Bennett was meticulous, tidy,
and her every move at work seemed to have a surgeon's precision. Diana’s method
was unorthodox by his standards, and he wasn’t the only one that thought that.
But they did things differently in 210- or at least she did- and she seemed to
get results, where others have tried valiantly and failed.
He found that out on Cathy’s case. Diana
promised results then didn’t or couldn’t deliver, and he didn’t like her lack
of justification. He was impatient. Joe pulled all her files and took her off
the case. She clearly worked it on the side anyway, and it might have gotten
her killed. It was irritating, but Diana was right about Elliott. Gabriel. The
Goyle case. More cases than he’d be willing to count, much less the ones he
wasn’t privy to. He didn’t work with Detective Bennett that frequently, but
whenever he did, you could be sure that class was in session. Which to him was
often an additional unwanted lesson in patience.
“Patience wouldn’t be so bad if
it didn’t take so long and wasn’t so damned slow,” Joe said out loud to the
unimpressive dartboard.
Maxwell walked back over to his desk. Edie was
probably right about lunch. “But you know what sounds good… and better than a
dang push-button-sandwich?” He said aloud to himself. “Coney dog.”
He jammed down the button for the front desk
intercom and told them to hold his calls. He was going to be out of
his office for a bit. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Yeah,
I’m out on lunch. Denton and Bundy can eat their own heads. He
mused to himself as he headed in the direction of the best Coney Dogs on this
side of town.
7
Rusty Hough Bader
Father sat rereading an old friend of a book. He
reread the same page five times when he tut-tutted and slipped the bookmark
between the worn pages and dropped it to the table beside his chair. He watched
Jake on the carpet before him, connecting wooden tracks for a small railroad.
The hills and valleys created the movement for the simple toy. Ah, such
is life, Father ruminated. You rise, you fall. There would be no
cloud-nine days without rock-bottom moments left below. Jacob Wells
was not one to curse, but under his breath, he shook his head, Isn’t
that the damn truth.
Jacob looked up at either his grandfather’s
words or his dropping the book to the table. He rose from a scuffed knee and
ventured towards the man. Sometimes he appears to be afraid of me. It’s
that same sensitivity he shares with his father. “Jacob, come here…”
The boy twisted his fingers and cocked his head
as he examined the worn carpet between them. “Are you still upset with me?”
“No, Jacob. But you know you’re in my heart just
as your father is in my heart. I worry.”
As the boy made slow steps toward his
grandfather, his face brightened. “Worry is something fierce. People who love
other people worry a lot.”
Father extended his arms for the boy to stand
between his knees; he was almost too tall to hold on his lap. “That is an
interesting point. Did your father tell you that?” He brushed tawny hair off
the boy’s forehead. He has Catherine’s determination for uncovering
things.
“Diana told me.” He nodded assuredly. “She
worries every time my dad visits. She says I need to stay Below so ‘Vincent
doesn’t have to run all over’ looking for me. I think she … likes him quite a
bit.”
Father rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “So
you say? Tell me more, how many times have you snuck up to Diana’s loft?”
Jacob turned away slightly and blushed
furiously. “Awe, you and Daddy will just be more upset with me. But sometimes I
feel her …” He faltered for the word. “Daddy calls it aloneness. I feel that
from Diana, and I feel her happiness when she sees me, just the same as when
dad comes to get me, and we’re together. When it’s just the three of us up
there, she makes food and stuff we don’t have here, and it’s like a different
part of life. It’s cool…”
Jacob jumped down and hurriedly pulled together
all the wooden toys, dropped them into a sack, and slung them over his
shoulder. “Grandfather, see you later?”
Father waved with a nod and watched them leave.
He pulled out the Walkman and the cassette Diana gave him for his last birthday
and listened to Placido Domingo.
Jacob skipped half-ran beside Vincent’s long
strides. “When it’s dark, can we go to see Diana? Her niece is so much fun… she
…”
Vincent stopped short and knelt beside his son.
“No, we will wait until Diana is alone. You know my reality. We’ve talked about
this.”
The word reality rolled off Jacob’s young tongue
in syllables like a hated word. He dipped his chin and turned away from his
father. “She misses you, don’t you feel it? I feel it.”
Vincent embraced his son, tucking the young boy
under his bristly chin. With gentle clawed hands, he stroked his son’s
hair. So much like Catherine, I’m so blessed. “You feel this,
too?”
Father and son peered into each other’s eyes and
nodded together. “Sometimes with we miss each other we can send notes, or make
small gifts, let's work on something for Diana…”
Vincent rose and took his son by the hand into
the corner of his chamber. A wooden crate held scraps of leather and tools to
stamp designs. “Why don’t we make her something we can send up with Samantha?”
Jacob busied himself digging through scraps of
all sorts of leather, some stiff like his shoes, some soft like his father’s
cape. “But if Samantha delivers our gift, we won’t see Diana’s happy eyes when
she sees it.”
His son’s words stopped him in his tracks. “A
very wise woman who began her life with so many strikes against her, Helen
Keller, said, ‘The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen
or touched but just felt in the heart.’ We must rely on feeling things we
cannot see.”
Jacob shrugged, and Vincent knew the sentiment
was lost on one so young. “What color will we pick, Daddy? This is the color of
your hair.” Jacob held up a cinnamon color piece of soft leather. “We can make
a change purse, and when she pays for things, she can think of us.”
Vincent examined the piece of
leather, and they began the careful task of cutting, stamping, and assembling
something precious for their friend.
Joe Maxwell paced, waiting for Denton to be led
into the meeting room. Good thing wired glass was between them. Denton
swaggered in like he owned New York, pushed the chair with his foot, and
lowered onto it. He gave a diffident sneer over his shoulder at the guard as
the man gave them their privacy.
They picked up the telephone receivers and mutually
sneered at each other.
“You got my message, Joe. Curious, aren’t you?
Your golden girl, the one who could do no wrong…”
Joe shook a pointed finger at Denton. “You’ve
got stones to talk about Catherine like that. You tell me what you know about
her child’s father, and I’ll think about whether it buys you any leverage.”
Denton’s head slanted from side to side
indecisively. “Yeah, about that, I need your promise before I … open the book
on what I know. You think Disney has some stories? This one is a real
fairy-tale of … leonine proportions.”
Joe narrowed his eyes at Denton. “Cut the tease.
Are you claiming her son is yours?”
Joe shook his head as Denton reared back on two
legs of his chair and roared with laughter. “Me? She wouldn’t let me touch her
with a lacrosse stick, but she has a thing for beasts. The kind that could tear
me up bad.”
So she liked bodybuilders, big guys. After the story Catherine told Joe about her attack,
it’s a wonder she didn’t want Mr. Universe.
“Denton, you expect release with that kind of
line?”
“Awe, no, Joe, you promise me my wings, then I
tell you where you can dig up the love of her life.”
“Dig up? Is he dead too?” Joe leaned into the
question ferociously. “I swear, Denton, whatever you have to do with this…” The
guard from Joe’s side approached Joe and shook his head at his emotional
outburst. Joe settled back and nodded and then turned to Denton. “Why do you
think your info is important enough to get you out?”
“Because where Vincent lives… let’s say it’s a
den of the underworld.”
The smell of the leather, the
vivid warm brown color, and the bright green ink dried perfectly on the
shamrock shape stamped on the flap.
“Samantha says this means good luck…” Jacob
pointed to the gift they worked on all afternoon.
Vincent chuckled softly as he read the job in
Jacob’s sense of accomplishment. “That’s a four-leaf clover you’re thinking
of…” Vincent considered the hidden meaning of the shamrock. Its symbolism was
derived from the legend of St. Patrick, who used it to explain the concept of
hope, faith, and love. Vincent wanted to wait a while to explain the concepts
of the symbol until he could express himself to Diana. When would that
be?
8
JessicaRae
Joe Maxwell sat on a park bench in
Central Park in the darkness, his mind mulling over Denton’s cryptic words.
Den of the underworld.
He had not been able to allow
himself to stoop low enough to barter the man’s freedom for the provision of
more information, and Joe had left the sneering inmate, with no sympathy in his
heart. The man had played his last card, in Joe’s eyes. He would have gladly
ripped his smirking eyes out f their sockets at the lack of respect the man had
for his Cathy, but he allowed the anger and fury to drive his feet along the
sidewalk, fists clenched in his jacket pockets, until he finally came to
himself in the middle of the park. It was dark now, and he would have scolded
Cathy for being out in this park at this hour. But right now, he couldn’t allow
reason to enter his swirling emotions. The rush of adrenaline had left him
exhausted, and he sat there, leaning forward, his fingers still twitching in
eagerness to erase the sneering eyes of his tormenter emblazoned in his mind’s
vision.
Den of the underworld. Fairy tales.
Leonine proportions.
Those words echoed in his mind
again, and he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. What kind of
information was all that? Catherine Chandler wouldn’t have been two-faced
enough to have gotten herself hooked up with a guy on the wrong side of the
law. Denton had to have been playing him. There just wasn’t another way.
He clasped his hands together again,
eyes closed against the beauty of the landscape around him. He saw her again in
his memories. Brave. Bold. Someone that he secretly admired and looked up to
both as a colleague and a friend. Now she was gone. And he had done nothing to
make it right for her.
“I’ve tried, Cathy,” he spoke
softly, resting his chin on clasped hands, his elbows digging into his knees
with a pain that grounded him to reality. “Damn, Cathy, I tried. I couldn’t
save you, and I can’t find your son. What kind of investigator am I?”
He shoved himself to his feet, the
anger coursing through him again. He picked up a rock at the side of the
sidewalk and threw it as hard as he could against a tree to his left. His heavy
steps carried him home, no closer now than he had been. The visit to see Mitch
Denton had done nothing for his hopes, and he cursed himself for having thought
anything good would come from the confrontation. He had been looking for
answers, clues, anything for so long. And now, his fragile hopes were crushed
again. As he disappeared into the darkness, his only desire for something
strong to numb the ache and a soft bed afterward, he had no way of realizing
that he had actually been given the most important clues of the entire
investigation, the clues that would bring rest to his heavy heart.
In the shadows, two figures had
watched the man’s obvious turmoil.
“He’s the man I saw at Diana’s. But
he seems sad.” Jacob whispered, leaning close to his father to stay out of
sight. Vincent’s heartbeat quickly as he watched the man walking out of the
park, shoulders bowed.
“He is, Jacob.”
The young boy half-turned to look up
at the taller man. “Should we cheer him up? You always cheer me up when I am
sad.”
Vincent raised a hand and rested it
on Jacob’s shoulder. “No, Jacob. He needs to solve his own sorrows. It is not
something that we can help him with. A man must find his own way when burdened
by a grief that great.” How well he knew this himself!
Jacob tilted his head, an
understanding crossing his wise-for-his-years face. “Then let’s tell Diana
about it. When we see her tonight. He knows her; maybe she can cheer him up.”
Vincent felt his throat closing up
slowly as he tried to register in his mind what the man on the bench had said
in his moments of frustration.
He was Joe Maxwell.
Vincent knew who he was. Catherine’s
boss. He had sensed the loss in the man’s actions, and he knew that Diana had
been right about the man’s obvious guilt about not having found Catherine’s
son. Instinctively, his arm tightened around the boy at his side. He felt pity
for the man, so desperate in his search, but fear also wound itself around the
father’s heart, and he could not relieve the man’s suffering without
potentially causing himself sorrow as well.
“I will talk to Diana about this
when she is alone,” Vincent spoke slowly, listening for the last fading
footfall of the man that threatened his world. “Not a word to anyone that we
have seen him. Have you brought the gift? We will leave it by her window.”
Jacob nodded quickly. “Safe, here in
my pocket.”
Vincent sighed and took his son’s
hand. “Come then, let us be quick and quiet.”
“Samantha, what are you doing,
child?”
Jacob Wells was walking past the
kitchen when he noticed Samantha in a small heap on the floor studying a white
piece of paper flattened on the floor, with various canned items holding down
the corners.
“Working on the wedding layout,” she
replied, looking up with a smile. “William wants to make sure there is ample
room for everyone. I told him we needed to make a plan.”
Father raised one eyebrow and nodded
at the drawings neatly spread across the homemade blueprint. “Well done,
Samantha. Do we need any more chairs?”
The girl’s eyes brightened at the
opportunity to have an adult conversation and perhaps slightly make up for her
earlier mistakes.
“No, I have counted out all the
invitations, and we have enough. Doctor Peter is bringing lemonade and
something ‘stronger,’ as he put it. Mary and I have examined the food plans,
and poor William has quite outdone himself. But we do have a surprise for him,
Father, please don’t be angry.”
Jacob Wells raised both eyebrows in
surprise. “Be angry? Whatever for?”
A moment’s hesitation made him wary
as Samantha finally made up her mind and scrambled to her feet. “Oh, you’re
going to be mad. They’re in here.”
“They?” Father followed the girl out
of the kitchen and down the passageway to the candlemaking room. She headed for
a tall object in the corner with a sheet of burlap tossed over it. Carefully,
she reached for the edge of the covering and pulled it back. Resting inside
were two grey pigeons.
“What on earth?”
Samantha sighed and lowered the
cloth. “Told you that you’d be mad.”
Father’s mouth hung open
incredulously. “Samantha, I am not – mad – I am not quite sure how to respond
to this – discovery.”
She nodded matter-of-factly. “Then
you’re mad.”
Jacob smiled wryly. “Yes, maybe so,
but Samantha! What are they for?”
“Well, it started when Kipper and
Jamie and I were talking to Mary about weddings. She said that When she was
young they sometimes release doves. Well, we couldn’t find doves, and these two
wandered in from one of the upper tunnels, so Kipper brought them down, and we
are feeding them and keeping them here, then we will release them at the
wedding.”
Jacob simply stared at the girl for
a moment, his mind’s eye imagining birds flying among a hundred candles and guests
and people running everywhere and chaos and pandemonium –
“No,” he stated flatly. “No birds at
the wedding!”
Samantha’s shoulders sagged. “It was
a romantic idea.”
Jacob’s eyebrows raised again, and
he pressed his thumb and forefingers to his eyelids in a moment of struggle to
keep his composure. “Romantic, dear child, maybe, but practical, no.”
He looked down at the solemn eyes,
and he felt a twinge of sadness for the children’s plans being unsuccessful. An
idea came to him.
“Here, how about we let the birds go
and find their home in the park. I have an idea.”
Samantha nodded woefully, and Jacob
patted her arm. “Chin up, Samantha. Come to the library when you are done;
that’s a good girl.”
He turned and moved as quickly as he
could to the library. Going straight to a box on a shelf, he pulled it down and
set it on the table. The top was dusty, and he carefully blew off as much as
possible before pulling the sides open. His gaze fell upon a stack of old
newspapers contained inside the cardboard shelter. A wistful gaze altered his
typically firm jaw, and he carefully lifted them from inside. Feelings flowed
over him, memories from long ago.
“Jacob, I brought tea down. Was
making some cookies for the children and thought – you could - use some - too,”
Mary’s kind voice trailed off, and a clink behind him indicated to his ears
that she had set a tray down on the chair. He felt her at his side, and she
looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. A hush came over her
voice as she acknowledged what he held.
“Jacob, aren’t those the newspapers
from your investigation?”
“Yes,” he replied shortly, a little
too carelessly.
She rested a soft hand upon his
elbow. “You saved them all this time.”
“Yes,” he nodded, still just as curt
as before. Mary noted the slight tremor in his hand, and she moved hers to rest
on his.
“What do you have them out for?”
“The wedding,” he replied with
forced cheerfulness, tossing the papers back into the box. “Something old and
something borrowed, see fits two out of the four. Cut that picture of the bank
advertisement out, and you’ll even have the blue as well.”
Mary nodded, her smile soft as she
looked into the eyes above her, wrangling with emotions.
“If they mean something to you,
Jacob, we can use something else.”
“They don’t.” Jacob laughed harshly.
“That’s just it. I have no idea why I have them. They remind me of hatred and
darkness, of lies and deceit. I do not wish to save them anymore. The children
were going to release two pigeons at the wedding. Thankfully, Samantha brought
it to my attention before such a tragic thing occurred.”
Mary laughed at the idea. “Yes, a
good thing indeed. What do you wish for the children to do with the papers?”
Jacob Wells shut the box with a
thump, dust poofing into the air, and held them out to Mary. “Shred them.
Destroy them, cut them into tiny little pieces, New York Times confetti. When
William and Su step out of the Great Hall, the children will be ready to throw
the confetti into the air. The wind will carry it like snow, and the
children will be delighted.”
Mary playfully smacked his arm. “You
are getting soft in your old age, Jacob, babying the children like that. Now,
come get your tea.”
Jacob frowned. “Old? Did you say I
am old?”
Vincent climbed the last few feet to
Diana’s rooftop, lifting Jacob from his strong shoulders and safely setting him
down on the solid surface. “Silently, Jacob,” he admonished softly. The boy
nodded in understanding and crept to the window, withdrawing his package from
his pocket and placing it carefully in such a way that the wind would not take
their careful project away.
He moved quickly back to his
father’s side, and Vincent took his small hand in his larger one. For a moment,
he hesitated, the nearness of Diana making him long to just tap on the glass,
for just a few words from her lips to fall on his ears, to feel the hope that
sprang to life each time she anticipated seeing him when he knocked. He could
feel it, feel it all.
“She loves us,” the little voice
spoke beside him, and he looked down at his son. “I can feel it,” Jacob
whispered, his eyes gazing intently up at his father.
Vincent considered, the turmoil in
his heart ringing in his ears. Love was a dangerous thing. But how he
desperately wanted to knock on her window, feel the happiness blossom inside
her kind heart when she dared to think that it was him outside. He wanted to
grasp her hand, as a noble knight, as she stepped from the room beyond as a
princess meeting her prince. He would hold the fragile hand, so pale and soft,
and pull her close beneath his cloak so she would not feel the chill of the
night. To remain in each other’s presence until the first rays of sun peeked
above the grey clouds of dawn.
There was only one thing, in his
mind, that stood between himself and Diana’s love.
Joe Maxwell’s guilt.
9
Janet Rivenbark
Diana was up early, considering it was a Sunday.
She walked out of her bedroom, yawning and stretching as she went. She put the
coffee pot on and leaned against the counter as she looked up at the skylight.
Something was sitting in the corner of one of the panes.
She hurried up to the roof to retrieve whatever
it was. As soon as she saw it, she knew where it had come from. It was wrapped
in the well-worn remnant of a brown paper bag.
Back in the kitchen, she quickly poured herself
a cup of coffee, then carried it and the small package to the couch.
When she removed the paper, she was delighted to
find a small coin purse. It was about three inches square, and the bottom and
side pieces were pleated. The top opened like an envelope, and it was held
closed with a snap. She turned it over to find a bright green shamrock stamped
into the golden leather.
The stitching was meticulous and strong, and she
knew right away it had been a Father-Son project. She loved it!
She looked at the clock. Lunchtime couldn’t come quickly enough.
Both Vincent and Jake met her at the park
threshold
“Did you get our present?” Jake asked her as he
enthusiastically wrapped his arms around her legs before she had a chance to
bend down for his hug.
“I did,” she said, looking at Vincent. “I love
it. It’s perfect and just what I needed.”
“I knew it!” Jake said with a grin as he grabbed
her hand and started pulling her through the door.
Vincent pushed the lever, and the door closed,
then Jake grabbed his hand too and started pulling them along.
“Are you hungry, Jake?” asked Diana.
“Yep. William is making something special for
lunch,” he informed her.
“He is? What is it?” Diana
asked.
“I don’t know, but it sure did smell good!”
Diana looked at Vincent, who shrugged.
“It does smell good,” he agreed. “But I don’t
know what it is either.”
They arrived at the dining chamber a few minutes
later, and it was obvious that the whole community agreed. There was a line out
the door.
“I hope they leave us some,” said Jake
worriedly, as he stretched to look around the people in front of them.
There appeared to be more than enough food for
everyone, and all three of them got generous servings of chicken and dumplings
with their choice of sides. They joined Father and Mary at a table. They had
just finished dinner and were enjoying peach cobbler for dessert.
“I didn’t see that,” Jake protested as he
watched Father and Mary eating their cobbler.
“Don’t worry about dessert right now,” Vincent
told him. “Eat your dinner first.”
“William said that there is more cobbler in the
oven,” Mary assured him. “He’ll have some of his kitchen helpers serve it when
it’s done.”
Not long afterward, everyone was groaning and
complaining that they’d eaten too much.
“I know you don’t always eat like that down
here,” Diana commented as the three of them headed back to Vincent’s chamber.
“No, we don’t, but William has agreed to take
some time off after his marriage at Winterfest on Wednesday. He’s still doing
all the usual preparation for Winterfest and all the extras for the wedding,
but Father had to all but order him to take some time off to spend with Su
after they get married.”
“Where does one go for a honeymoon down here?”
Diana asked. “Or are they planning to go somewhere Above?”
“No, they are staying Below. We have a chamber
that is off the beaten path, as they say. It has everything they
will need, including a small kitchen, and maybe William will let Su cook for
him for a change.”
“How long will they be gone, and who will do the
cooking while he’s gone?”
“Father wanted him to take two
weeks, but I don’t think he’s going to last more than a week. Vincent chuckled.
“His staff can handle it while he’s gone. He’s trained them well, but he thinks
we will all waste away from hunger if he stays gone too long.”
They were almost to Vincent’s chamber, and Jake
darted ahead. By the time they entered, he was already dragging out the huge
set of Lego’s she’d given him for his birthday.
“Let’s build something!” he demanded. The two adults looked at each other and shrugged before joining him on the floor.
A couple hours and one large Lego city later,
Vincent reminded Jake of storytime in Father’s study.
“You know you love the stories, and your week of
punishment is over,” Vincent told him.
“But Diana’s here,” Jake protested.
“I’ll still be here when you are done,” she told
him. “You go on and enjoy the story. I wanted to talk to your father about
something anyway.” She climbed to her feet and started helping Jake put all the
Legos back into the basket he kept them in.
“You’re sure?” Jake asked.
“Positive! I promise I won’t leave without
saying goodbye.”
That seemed to satisfy Jake, and after he put
the basket back in his chamber, he left.
“What did you want to talk about?” Vincent asked
as Diana sat on the side of his bed, and he moved his chair to face her and sat.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m meeting
Talia tomorrow, and we are going to try to come up with a way to placate Joe
and convince him that everything is fine. I’m pretty sure he’s somehow, maybe
not consciously, but somehow made the connection between Jake and Catherine. It
might just be that he feels bad about never finding Catherine’s baby, and he’s
projecting that onto Jake, but then again, he might somehow know that
Jake is Catherine’s son.”
“He does look a lot like her when she was a
child,” Vincent commented.
Diana nodded. “But unless Joe has seen pictures
of Catherine from that time, I doubt he would consciously make that connection.”
“All the more reason Talia and I need to come up
with a way to find out from him just what he thinks, or knows, without giving
up too much information ourselves. But when it comes right down to it, I guess
I need to know just how much you are willing to let Joe know.”
“I’m still not convinced that letting him know
anything beyond what he suspects is safe,” Vincent said dubiously.
“But that could have even worse consequences,”
Diana pointed out. “I realize that lawyers aren’t famous for imagination, but
if his should take over, he will feel as if he has to do something.”
Vincent was quiet for a moment. He could see
what Diana was saying, but…
“Is there a way… something that would convince
him that Jake is well taken care of without telling him that he’s Catherine’s
son?”
“I don’t know. I think he’s already half
convinced that he is,” Diana speculated. “If that is the fact…”
“Ask him point-blank what interest he has in the
child he met at your loft,” Vincent suggested. “Find out what he suspects.”
“That might work, and I think Talia and I should
talk to him together.” Diana paused. “But, again, just how much are you willing
to let Joe know about you if it comes to that.”
“Can you tell the story without telling him
where we live and what I look like?”
Diana chewed her lip for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I think Talia and I can come up with something convincing,” she finally said.
They joined the children in the study, and
ultimately Diana wound up staying for dinner too. Once Jake was asleep, Vincent
walked Diana back to the threshold. She was surprised when he exited with her.
“I won’t let you walk through the park alone in
the dark,” he told her. “It’s not safe.”
She didn’t argue and enjoyed his company all the
way to Strawberry Fields.
“I’ll stay here,” he told her when they stopped
in the shadows, “and watch until I see you get a cab.”
“And you’ll be down for Winterfest on
Wednesday?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it!” She stretched up on her
toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she promised
before she darted out to the street, where she was quickly able to flag down a
cab.
Vincent touched his fingers to his lips and smiled as he melted into the shadows and headed toward home.
Diana was up early again on Monday. Talia called
and suggest that they meet at Henry Pei’s restaurant for lunch at one since
they both knew it, and neither one of them was likely to run into anyone they
knew, except, maybe, another Helper.
When Diana arrived, the hostess led her to the
back of the restaurant where Talia was already seated. She offered Diana tea
from the large pot on the table.
Diana warmed her hands around the cup and closed
her eyes.
“Cold out, isn’t it?” Talia said with a laugh.
“It is December, but it just seems colder
somehow today. I bet it will snow. This is just the thing. I never drank much
tea until I met our… mutual acquaintance.”
“As you can probably imagine, I was raised on
the stuff. There is nothing that a good strong cup of hot tea can’t cure.”
They laughed then gave their orders before they
got to the subject they were there to discuss.
“Did you get a chance to talk to Vincent?” Talia
asked.
Diana nodded. “Yesterday. He had some ideas, but
I what to know what you think?”
“Just for the record, I have the file with the
reports of the child seen in Central Park alone. There isn’t much in it, but I
keep it in my briefcase along with some of the other files I’m working on. If
anyone asks about it or sees it, I can just say I had it so I could
investigate,” Talia said. “But as far as Joe is concerned, I need some idea of
what he might do. I don’t know him as well as you do.”
“One thing I know about Joe is
that he’s like a bulldog. Once he gets something between his teeth, he’s not
letting go until it’s resolved. He was like that over Catherine Chandler’s case
when she disappeared,” Diana told her.
“Then we really should come up with something
for him. Convince him somehow that the kid is all right,” Talia mused.
“Yeah, and I have a feeling that he’s somehow
connected that kid with Catherine’s child… It’s not much, just a hunch, but my
hunches are usually right.”
“Have you talked to Vincent about this,” Talia
asked, thinking back to when she’d met Joe and got the same feeling.
“I did, and he’s still not sure how much we can
safely tell Joe. He’s not afraid of much, but he’s scared to death that Joe
will try to have Jake taken away from him.”
“I told him that parental rights are put at the
top of the list,” Talia said. “And I don’t see how Joe could legally have Jake
taken from his family.”
“You really did live Below too long,” Diana said
with a snort. “Look at it from the point of view of anyone who has lived above
all their lives and has never been Below. They live in caves, they eat and use
the cast-offs of society up here, and Vincent doesn’t exactly look like your
ordinary guy on the street.”
They paused while their meals were served then
Talia spoke.
“All right, you have me there,” Talia said with
a smile. “But I think you might have just hit on something… the part about
someone who has never been Below. What if we take Joe Below?”
“Father would never agree,” Diana began.
“What if we don’t ask?” Talia said with a sly
smile. “What if we, or maybe it would be better if it was just me, just take
him down? It’s always easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission,
especially where Father is concerned.”
Diana thought for a moment, then grinned.
“What about taking him to Winterfest? It would
be the ideal time. He wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb with all the Helpers
there. And it would show the world Below at its best.”
“You have a point,” Talia agreed. “I could take
him, and you could go ahead early and prepare Vincent.”
“What are you going to tell him to get him to go
with you?” Diana asked.
“The truth?” she suggested.
“I’ll tell him everything I know about Jake, but if he still needs to see it
for himself, then I’ll tell him that I want to take him somewhere to prove to
him that the little boy he met at your place is loved and well taken care of.
There is a deli, about a block from the park, that is owned by a Helper. He has
a threshold. We can go Below from there. It’s only a short walk to where
everyone is meeting to go down to the Great Hall.”
“You do realize that we are going to have just
about everyone mad at us if this doesn’t work out,” Diana said.
“Don’t worry, I’ll prepare him and make sure he
promises that he won’t make assumptions or jump to any conclusions or tell
anyone,” Talia assured her.
Diana was usually the one to take risks, but as
far as she was concerned, if it put Vincent, Jake, or the community Below at
risk, she wasn’t going there. But she felt as if she could trust Talia. What
Vincent had said about her abilities had a lot to do with
that. If what Vincent had said was true, then all Talia would have to do was
touch Joe to know if he was sincere when he promised not to talk.
Based on that, she had to agree.
“So, what do you want me to tell Vincent?” she
finally asked.
“Don’t tell him too early,” Talia warned.
“everyone is supposed to start meeting to go down to the Great hall at seven. I
would just go a little early and fill him in on what I’m going to do. Don’t
give him time to stress about it.”
Diana nodded. “I’ll send him a note telling him
that I’m coming down a little early and ask if it’s convenient for us to talk
before he goes down to the Great Hall.”
“That should work,” Talia agreed.
When Talia left the restaurant, she went
straight to Joe’s office before she lost her nerve.
“Miss Winters,” said Joe, rising from the chair
behind his desk and walking around it to greet her. “It’s nice to see you.”
They shook hands, and Talia was able to verify that Joe really was happy to see
her. “Have a seat,” he said. He indicated the sofa on one wall. Talia sat on
one end, and Joe seated himself on the other end.
“I thought I’d update you on the case about the
child that has been seen in the park,” she said, as she pushed her coat off her
shoulders. She picked up her briefcase and pulled out the file.
“What have you learned?” Joe asked, leaning
forward a bit.
“Well, I’ve met with the child’s
father, and I can assure you that everything is fine. The boy’s mother isn’t in
the picture, but the father has plenty of help. They live near the park, and
the child’s caretakers often take him there to play. The time you saw him at
Detective Bennett’s was a fluke. He intentionally gave the young woman looking
after him the slip and went to Bennett’s. His father said he knew the route
because he’s taken it in his company several times.”
“At his age?” asked Joe.
“Jake’s, that’s the boy’s name, father says that
all Jake has to do is walk a route once or twice, and he has it committed to
memory.”
All that Talia had just told Joe was true; now
she watched as he digested it.
“And you’ve come to these conclusions based on
meeting the kid’s father one time?” Joe asked. “I don’t think that is enough to
base anything on.”
“It’s been more than one meeting,” she assured
him, and again that was true. “I’ve met the rest of his family and the sitters,
and they are all good people.”
“I don’t know,” said Joe, who got up and started
to pace. He reminded her of Vincent when he did that. “I just have a feeling
about that kid.”
“What kind of a feeling?” she asked.
“I can’t seem to put my finger on it. There is
something almost familiar about him. We had a case. Cathy Chandler handled it.
A child was killed. There was a history of abuse, but it had been covered up
because the father was wealthy. No one who knew the man would have ever dreamed
that he’d abused both of his children. Whenever I think of that kid, that case
pops into my mind.”
“I can assure you that Jake isn’t abused. He is
his father’s life. There is nothing in the world more important to him. And
when he found out that Jake had been seen wandering in the park alone and had
walked all the way to Detective Bennett’s, he was punished.”
At the word punished, Joe whirled
and looked at Talia.
“How was he punished?” he asked.
“Severely, I can assure you.” Talia knew she had
him, now.
“How severely?”
“No stories for a whole week,” she said with a
grin.
“No… what?”
“It seems Jake adores being
read to and listening to his grandfather’s stories. To deprive him of that is a
very severe punishment.”
Joe had to smile, but he quickly sobered. “Is
there a way I can possibly talk to the kid’s dad?” he asked as he sat back down
on the couch.
“Is this in an official capacity or as the DA?”
she asked.
Joe hesitated before he answered. “I’ll have to
say personal since as DA, I can’t do much unless Child Protective Services or
the police do something about it.”
Talia reached out and put her hand over his. She
had to get a read on him to know if he was telling her the truth and what he
suspected.
She quickly knew he was telling the truth and
that Diana had been right. Joe was beginning to suspect that Jake might be
Catherine’s son, but even he couldn’t figure out why he suspected that.
“Is there some reason beyond just worry over a
child’s welfare that you are so concerned about this?” she asked. She patted
his hand then removed hers.
“A hunch,” he said, using the same terminology
that Diana had. Well, she had heard that he’d gone to college and law school
while working as a cop. “It’s like there is something I should know or do know
about this kid, but maybe I’m afraid to admit it to myself.”
“And why would that be?” she asked.
“Because it would mean that I’d well and truly
failed someone who meant a great deal to me.”
He’s begging to make the connection,
consciously, she thought to herself.
“Who?”
“Cathy Chandler… Is there any chance that the
kid could be hers?” he asked. It was clear that he’d thought about this… a lot…
but had never voiced the question before.
“What do you think?”
“Hell, I don’t know what to think. That’s why
I’m asking you.” He was back on his feet, pacing again.
“I think that is a question that you’re going to
have to ask Jake’s father yourself,” she told him.
“Can you arrange it?” he asked, turning to look
at her.
Joe took the paper and looked at the address. “A
deli? Meeting in a public place?”
“Just a jumping-off point, so to
speak,” she said as she stood and picked up her coat and briefcase. “Just one
thing I want you to know. Everything you see on Wednesday night is a secret.”
She held up her hand when he started to speak. “It’s not illegal, as far as I
know, but it is a secret. If you don’t promise to keep it, then I won’t be able
to take you to meet Jake’s father.”
He nodded his understanding. He wanted to know
badly enough that at that moment that he was willing to agree to almost
anything.
Talia shook his hand before leaving, and she
picked up on that thought.
Exactly where I want him, she thought as she walked to the elevator.
Once she was back in her office, she called Diana and filled her in on all that she’d learned.
Diana went over at least half a dozen scenarios
in her head between Monday and when she left her loft to go Below for
Winterfest, and she still hadn’t settled on one by the time she found Vincent.
He was getting ready to go down to the Great Hall, where he would meet everyone
else in about an hour.
“Can I walk with you?” she asked him.
“Of course,” he said with a smile.
“Where is Jake?” she asked after they had gone a
little way.
“He will be going down with the rest of the
younger children. They are all so excited that they are all but bouncing off
the walls. Mary was speculating about how she could get them all down the stairs
safely.”
“Is that an issue?” she asked, concerned.
“Not really. The older children are usually
assigned one of the younger ones, and they keep a tight hold on them and make
sure that the little ones walk on the inside. We’ve never lost a child on the
stairs,” he joked.
“I should hope not,” she said with a laugh.
They reached the bottom of the
stairs, and Diana wondered if this had been a good idea. How were they ever
going to talk in the howling wind? But Vincent surprised her when he took her
hand and pulled her into an alcove to one side of the bottom of the stairs. It
was suddenly quiet.
“That’s better,” she said with a smile.
“Was there something you wanted to talk about?”
Vincent asked.
“Yes, there is… When I asked you how you wanted
to handle Joe and how much you wanted him to know, you suggested telling the
story without revealing to him where you live and what you look like. I talked
to Talia about it, and I think she thought that Joe wouldn't be satisfied with
half a story, and I agree.
“Right after she and I talked, she went and
talked to Joe. She says that he came right out and admitted that he suspects
that Jake is Cathrine’s son. Before that, we had decided that the best way to
handle it would be to tell Joe everything. She’s bringing him to Winterfest
tonight as her plus one.”
“She’s what?” Vincent all but roared. “She’s
going to put the entire community in jeopardy by doing that! What is she
thinking?”
Diana reached out and placed her hands on
Vincent’s cheeks and made him look at her.
“Please, hear me out.”
It took him a moment and several deep breaths to
calm down. “All right. Tell me,” he finally said.
“This will introduce Joe to the community and to
all of you when you are at your best. It will show all of you in the best
light. He won’t see the main chambers, won’t have any idea where they are. He
will meet everyone, residents, and Helpers, and he will see that Jake and all
the children are loved and well taken care of.”
“And what if he’s already made up his mind. What
if he exposes everything, and we not only lose all our children but our home as
well?”
“Both Talia and I trust Joe, and I think you are
just going to have to trust us on this one, Vincent. She said she told him that
nothing he sees here tonight must ever be exposed, it’s a secret, and he
promised. I’ve never known Joe to break a promise.”
“I don’t know, Diana,” Vincent said dubiously.
“Father is going to be very upset, and we are all libel to be banished.
“I doubt that,” she said. “I have faith that it
will all work out.”
Joe walked into the deli expecting to join Talia
and some unknown man at a table where they would discuss Jake’s welfare over
Reuben’s and cream sodas.
He was surprised when Talia met him at the door
then led him through the kitchen and down into the basement. In the back of the
basement, she opened a door in the back wall and motioned him through.
“There are stairs on the other side, so be
careful,” she said as she handed him a flashlight. “And you’ll need this,” she
said, giving him an orange, yellow and white candle.
He went down the stairs, and she lagged behind
to close the door. He was staring at the candle when she reached the bottom.
“Cathy had one of these,” he said. “She had it
in a chest where she kept a lot of keepsakes. Diana found it when she was going
through her things, looking for clues. She also found references to someone
named Vincent. Are we going to see him?”
“We are,” Talia said, noncommittally. “We should
get moving, it’s a short walk, and we don’t want to be late. You are really in
for a treat,” she added with the first smile he’d seen since he walked into the
deli.
It didn’t take long, and he was surprised when
they joined a large group of people. He recognized Peter Alcott, Cathy’s family
doctor, the guy who played the sax on the street not far from the Criminal
Courts building, and the magician he often saw performing in the subway or the
park.
There was an elderly gentleman who looked very
familiar, then he remembered… the man he’d met, who had given him information,
during the investigation of Cathy’s disappearance. It seemed as if everything
was connected. The whole thing was getting more interesting by the moment.
The elderly gentleman was looking around,
greeting people when his eyes met Joe’s. Joe gave him half a smile and nodded.
He heard Talia beside him.
“Uh-oh,” she whispered. “I was hoping he
wouldn't notice you until we got down to the Great Hall.”
The man walked up to them. The first time Joe
had met him, he’d been wearing a 1950s style suit and a fedora, but now he was
dressed like a medieval monarch, and the scowl on his face matched.
“Mr. Maxwell,” he said with a nod, then he
looked at Talia. “Talia, what is the meaning of this?”
“Look, Father,” she said, pointing. “Everyone is
starting down. We need to go too.”
The man she called Father
looked back at the crowd then at her. “We will talk about his later,” he said,
then he worked his way through the crowd to the front and led the group out.
“That man is your father?” Joe asked.
“You know Father?” Talia asked at the same time
as they fell in at the back of the group.
“I met him during the investigation of Cathy’s
disappearance. He had information,” he told her.
“Be careful on the stairs,” she warned as the
group moved onto the windy stairs. “There is no rail… and no, he’s not my
father, but everyone calls him Father. It’s a title of respect. But he has been
like a father to many.”
Moving and the wind precluded any conversation
on the stairs, but after a while, they stopped. Joe leaned close and spoke into
Talia’s ear.
“Do all these people live down here?” he asked.
He’d heard the stories about people living under the city; he’d just never
taken them seriously.
“Only about half,” she told him. “The people who
live here have friends and Helpers Above, and once a year, they have a
celebration to thank their Helpers.”
“Is that how you know about them? You’re one of
these Helpers?”
“I am now. But I used to live down here. It’s a
long story… I’ll tell you sometime.” She pointed to the bottom of the stairs.
“Shh, it’s starting.”
Joe looked to where she was pointing at huge
wooden doors that were held closed with a heavy wooden beam. There was a large
man in front of the doors. He had his back to the crowd, and all Joe could make
out was clothing similar to what about half the people in the crowd were
wearing and long golden hair.
He watched in amazement as the man lifted the
beam that had to weigh at least a couple hundred pounds as if it weighed
nothing. He put it to the side, then with the help of another man, they opened
the double doors before going into a dark room.
The entire crowd filed in quietly, and he and
Talia found places to stand near the bottom of the long T shaped table.
Talia watched Joe as he watched the ceremony
unfold before him. He could tell the instant that Vincent’s candle was lit and
his face was illuminated… Joe’s mouth literally fell open.
Joe didn’t speak until the chamber was completely
lit, and he lost sight of Vincent. He turned to Talia.
“That’s him, isn’t it. That’s Vincent… Jake’s
father and Cathy’s… lover.”
Joe looked stunned, and Talia
needed to know what was going on in his head, so she put her hand on his arm,
right where his sleeve met his hand, and she was staggered by the mix of
emotion and thoughts. There was so much: he was impressed and amazed,
interested, relieved, and more than a little bit uncomfortable. There were no
real thoughts, just feelings.
“Come on,” she told him, patting his arm. “You
need to meet Vincent.”
“I guess that is what I’m here for, “he agreed
hesitantly.
They detoured to a table where some teenagers
seem to be in charge of coats. They left their coats with them then Talia
guided him across the table toward where he could see the golden head above the
rest of the cloud. When they got closer, he saw Diana standing on Vincent’s
right side and little Jake standing on his left. He had his right arm around
Diana, and his left hand rested on Jake’s shoulder. They were all watching the
magician intently.
“Diana too?” he whispered.
“Diana met him while she was investigating
Catherine’s case. He says she saved his life, and then she helped him find his
son. Now she’s a Helper.”
Before they had a chance to make their way over
to where Vincent and Diana were, the man Talia had called Father had stepped up
onto a dais at one end of the large chamber. The music stopped, and he was
calling everyone’s attention to a rather rotund, bearded man and a tiny Asian
woman who stood on the dais with him.
“As you all know,” he said, looking around at
everyone in the crowd, “William and Su have decided to be married, and they
wanted to share their joy with all of you, and it was decided that the best
place to do that would be here at Winterfest. So, without further delay…”
William and Su took their places facing each
other in front of Father. They joined hands and smiled at each other.
“Su, I love you,” William said with feeling.
“You came along at a time when I thought that there was no one for me, that I
would be living the rest of my life alone. I had built walls to protect myself,
but you battered those walls to dust. You loved me, and you wouldn't take ‘no’
for an answer. You are my partner, my true helpmate, and I will be forever
proud and grateful to call you my wife.” He raised her left hand and slipped a
tiny plain gold band onto one of her fingers, then he kissed it.
Su slipped a much larger gold
band on Williams's left ring finger, then she stretched up on her toes, pulled
his head down a bit, and quickly kissed him.
Father placed his hands over their joined hands,
smiled at each of them in turn, then said. “I now declare you married, and may
all here be witness and accept you as such.” He kissed Su’s cheek then shook
William’s hand.
The couple turned toward the crowd as everyone
cheered and applauded.
Joe found himself applauding too. When he looked
over, he saw Vincent and Diana making their way toward him and Talia. Diana
waved and pointed to a table next to the side wall. Talia nodded and guided Joe
toward it.
They all arrived at the table at the same time,
and Joe and Vincent stood, sizing each other up for a moment before Diana spoke.
“Why don’t we all sit down,” she suggested as
she pulled out a chair and sat. Talia sat across from her, while Vincent took a
seat to Diana’s left, and Joe sat across from him.
“What did Father have to say,” Vincent asked
Talia when they were all settled. “He did see, didn’t he?”
“That he did,” she told him. “Just before we all
started down the stairs. He’s wasn’t happy, but that is all the more reason we
need to get all this resolved. I think if I can present it to him as a done
deal, he might forgive me.”
“You can hope,” said Vincent. Then he looked
across the table at Joe. “What questions do you have for me?” he asked, folding
his hands on the table in front of him.
Joe unbuttoned the button on his suit jacket and
relaxed against the back of his chair before he asked his first question.
“Are you Jake’s father?” he asked.
“I am,” Vincent said evenly.
“Biological?”
“Yes.” Vincent’s brow furrowed, and he wondered
where Joe was going with this.
“But he’s nothing like you?”
“Empathic?” asked Joe. “As in sympathy pains and
such?”
“A little more than that,” Vincent explained. “I
can explain mine better. I can sometimes sense what a person is feeling, either
or sometimes both physically and emotionally when I touch them. Sometimes I can
just be in the same room and get a sense of what is happening if emotions are
running high or if someone is in great pain.
“Jacob seems to have the same sort of sense but
mostly with me, but lately, I’ve noticed that he seems to have connected with
Diana too.”
“And your empathy had something to do with
Cathy,” Joe stated.
“It did. She was the only person I connected
with that I didn’t have to be touching or even in the same room with. I once
sensed a threat to her when she was in California.”
“And Jake is Catherine’s son.” Again a statement.
“He is,” Vincent answered simply.
“So you two were married?” He used his thumb to
point back over his shoulder to the dais where the ceremony had just taken
place.
“No, we never got to that point,” Vincent said
sorrowfully. “I didn’t know she was pregnant when she disappeared. If I had and
she had agreed, we would have been.”
Joe was quiet for several moments before he
spoke again.
“So when Diana told me ‘it takes a village,’
this was what she meant.” He waved his hand to indicate the people in the room.
“All these people help you take care of your son.”
“They do.” Vincent looked across the table at
Joe. “We are a family, Joe. These people were Catherine’s family too. This is
where she came to heal after her father died. Catherine told me that you have a
mother and sisters and that you all take care of each other. You know what it
is like.”
“But why down here?” asked Joe.
“Some come here for a brief time, a respite
while they regain their equilibrium before going back Above, and some like me,
Father, and a few others either choose to stay or have no choice but to stay.”
“So you have your own little city here, below
the city,” Joe mused.
Vincent smiled at the memory Joe’s words evoked.
He’d said the same thing to Catherine the first time he explained it all to her.
“And we are safe and warm, and we live as best
we can, with the help of the people you see here tonight.”
“What kind of people are they?” Joe asked. “I
mean, I know Diana, Dr. Alcott, and now Miss Winters, but what about everyone
else?”
Vincent looked out over the crowd and started
naming the professions of people as he saw them.
“Cab drives, deli and restaurant owners, street
musicians and entertainers, grocers, city employees, police officers, doctors,
lawyers…”
“Any Indian chiefs?” asked Joe with a chuckle.
Vincent looked around the room until his eyes
landed on a man talking to William not far away. He pointed him out to Joe.
“That is Hunter Oxendine. He’s from North
Carolina and is a member of the Lumbee tribe… but I don’t think he’s a chief,”
said Vincent, picking up on Joe’s more relaxed mood.
That was when Joe finally relaxed completely and
laughed.
“Okay. I think you’ve nearly convinced me, but
to tell the truth, I’d like to get to know everyone a little better before I am
totally convinced. But don’t worry,” he rushed to add. “Your secret is safe
with me. And if the DA’s office can ever help with something, don’t hesitate to
call me. I’ll do whatever I can.”
Everyone around the table relaxed, and there was
a general sigh of relief, just as Father walked up.
“Talia, I must talk to you… NOW!”
“Father,” Vincent interceded. “Everything has
been resolved. Mr. Maxwell is well on his way to becoming a new Helper.”
Father looked at Joe, the at Talia. Then he
sputtered a bit before he got any coherent words out.
“So everything is all right?”
“Just fine,” Joe said. “I was just concerned for
the boy. I had a hunch he had something to do with Cathy, and my hunches are
usually pretty accurate. But he’s where he needs to be, with his family… I’d
just like to ask one favor.”
“What is it?” asked Vincent.
“When he gets a little older, let me take him to
a ball game once in a while. My dad used to take me, and I loved the game.
Since you can’t exactly take him to a game, maybe I could help out in that
area.”
“I’m sure he’d love it,” agreed Vincent.
Talia had taken Joe back Above after the closing
ceremony, but Diana had stayed to help Vincent supervise the teenagers carrying
all the leftovers back to the kitchen. Diana didn’t think they would ever find
places to put all the leftovers, but they had managed.
“Goodness, but these past few days have been
stressful,” she said as Vincent walked with her back to the threshold in the
park.
“It would have been less stressful if you had
seen fit to take me into your confidence,” he pointed out.
“Ah, but would it have gone off half as well if
I had? I think that the element of surprise for both of you went a long way
toward resolving the issue. And I really do think that it helped that Joe met
you this way, on as neutral ground as possible, and in the least threatening
way, for both of you.”
“I may have to concede that point to you,” he
admitted as they reached the metal door at the end of the tunnel.
“I should hope so,” she said with a grin. “Now
we can concentrate on more interesting stuff.”
“Such as?” he asked, arching a brow and looking
down at her.
“Like us!” she said. “I mean, if you want to; if
you’re ready.”
Vincent surprised her by taking
her into his arms and holding her. After a few minutes, he looked down to find
her looking up at him.
They both moved at the same moment, and when
their lips met, there was nothing sweet or innocent about the kiss this time.
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