Ashes (11 page)

He'd burn everything if he could, if it meant protecting her.

It was not fiction. It couldn't be.

“Stephen, it's not all that difficult to comprehend, really,” Carraway said, interrupting his thoughts. “You needed to be loved.”

“Grandma loved me,” he bit back.

“Did she? Not like this, she didn't. She couldn't, right? She didn't know how to love you the way you wanted, the way you needed to be loved.”

“Shut up!”

“You're going to be all right. Just be honest with yourself. Allow yourself to believe it. This may not be what you want to hear, but it's the truth.”

Arson lost himself in a stir of frantic thoughts. The doctor had said Emery's name. How did he know her name? Were they responsible for taking her, for taking them both? Where was she? Indecipherable, faint whispers slipped off a dry tongue as he tried to piece the puzzle together.

“It's never easy, but I can see the horizon. We're almost there. We will find answers, I promise. I hope that after today, we can finally put this silly Emery Phoenix business to rest. You don't need her anymore. You need people you can trust. You need people who are real and not some figment of your imagination.
I
can help you. Let me help you.”

Carraway reached into his briefcase. His hand soon emerged with a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and began to drink. Arson focused on the bobbing of his throat, the sound the water made as it left the bottle and slipped inside those paper-thin lips.

“Now, are you finally ready to accept the truth, Stephen?”

Arson was back at Mandy's beach, the ground uncertain beneath him. He looked down, seeing himself covered in black, burnt ashes, his breaths shortened and heightened by panic and fear of losing everything he cared most for. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't some conspiracy. Arson knew he wasn't the criminal this stupid doctor made him out to be.

This was crazy.
All of it.
This place…he had to get out.
These walls, this doctor.
It wasn't right. It felt like a nightmare.
The same as the middle school cafeteria.
Everything in sight meshed together.

Can't focus.

Can't think.

This is real
, Arson told his mind.
I am real. Emery is real. This doctor…

Is.

A.

Liar!

The doctor took another long sip. “Stephen? Are you ready?”

Arson glared at Carraway, the calm changing to frustration.
Frustration becoming rage.
An animal being attacked and cornered.
A child being beaten for an unknown crime.
A boy too unloved to be what he wanted most. Until…

All of a sudden, Arson could see the air bubbles trapped inside the water bottle multiply. The doctor didn't even notice at first. The more Arson focused on his thoughts, the more the bottle bubbled and pulsated. Within seconds, Carraway spit out the water, pulling the bottle away from his mouth.

“Good grief, it's burning my lips!”

It didn't stop, though. Arson was far too focused to let it end here. Emery. Mandy. Grandma.
That horrible room.
A young woman screaming.
 

Blood.

So much blood.

Arson's eyes began to burn. His pupils turned from hazel to crimson, sparks dancing inside his eyes like bloody diamonds.

Emery!

The bottle turned red, then black, and suddenly split from the center, the plastic instantly melting then bursting, liquid spilling everywhere. The violent stream of water burned a hole in Carraway's lap and singed his tie. Charred plastic, exuding smoke, lay ruined and twisted on the tile floor. The doctor's eyes at once came to fearful life.
 

“Stephen, what have you done?”

Arson's words escaped like dark poetry. “My name…is Arson.”
 

And then everything went black.

16

 

“WHERE ARE YOU!
”
AIMEE shouted into the cell phone.
 

“Massachusetts,” Joel said calmly. “I left a few hours ago.”

“Why? What are you doing there? And why didn't you tell me?”

“Don't blow this out of proportion. Can you just calm down so I can talk?”

“This is calm, Joel. This is
very
calm.” How dare he just pick up and leave like that? What right did he have to abandon her to this lonely house with just a note left behind to say he'd be back when he made it right? It wasn't fair.

“The license plates, Aimee. Do you remember when Emery was taken?”

“What are you talking about? Of course I remember. I was there, same as you.”

A long breath stifled the phone speaker on her end. “We gave it to the police, and after some minimal research, they were led to Massachusetts, right?”

“Yes,” she responded reluctantly. “But the case went cold, or have you forgotten?”

“It went cold because they stopped looking.”

“What is this, Joel? Are you trying to prove your masculinity by taking off on this witch hunt?”

“It's not a witch hunt. I'm close, all right? I feel it. I know something's not right. C'mon, Aimee, the news the last couple of months, the
accidents
, the crises. It's all screaming that something's not right.”

“I'm not a politician, Joel. What does any of that have to do with finding our daughter?”

“Aren't you listening? I'm feeling something, in my gut, my soul, that's leading me here. I'm piecing it together the best way I know how.”

“Your gut?
Your soul?
I'm not hearing this. This is crazy. You know, you're good at trying to piece together lost causes.” She hadn't meant for that thought to come out. And now that it was out in the open, she wished she could take it back.

“I spoke to the private investigator, Aimee.”

A long pause.

“Did you hear me? I called the investigator.”

“I heard you. What did he say? Is he another leech, or can this one actually help us?”

“Well, for starters, he's a she. And yes, I
think
she can help us. I think she really wants to.”

“Well, isn't that nice.” Aimee's tone turned vindictive. “Was she attractive?”

“How is that at all relevant?”

“Just answer the question, Joel.”

“No, I'm not goin' there. The whole reason I brought her up is so you can't hold it against me. I'm trying to keep you informed. Good communication, right, baby?”

“Hold what against you? The fact that you scheduled an appointment with a private investigator and didn't feel the need to tell me?” Aimee knew she was overreacting, but if she didn't explode now, when Joel could hear it, he'd never know how much horrible tension was building up inside her. Besides, he should feel the repercussions of keeping her out of the loop. After all, Emery was not his daughter alone. Emery belonged to her too, or didn't he get that?

“You had work. You're always working now.”

“We all have our reasons, Joel. Besides, the banks don't care what our family situation is right now, the mortgage payment's still due.”

“Admit it, Aimee, you hate being in that house. You hate being with me.”

Aimee didn't want to answer. She feared what the truth might bring.

“It's useless fighting. Doesn't even matter. I met with Redd and talked about opening up a case to find Emery. And she agreed to work with us. I think she's committed.”

“Good. Somebody should be.”

“I'm doing the best I can,” Joel's voice cracked through the phone. He sounded distant, like he was talking on speaker or heading into a tunnel.

“Your best? You took off and left me here, Joel.”

“You have to work, don't you?”

She grunted. “Easy scapegoat.”

“Look, don't play the saint. I left because I had to. I will find her. I believe I can find her. And whatever help I need, Redd'll be there.”

“I'm sure she will. Did you inform her about your covert mission?”

“As of now, we've only spoken twice. Like you, she thinks I don't have much to support my theory. But unlike you, she allows a little room for my better judgment. Some things take faith, Aimee.
A lot of faith.
And I'm not sure what to believe anymore, but at the very root of me there's still a man looking for purpose, desperate for his little girl. And until I stop breathing, I'm
gonna
look for her, starting where everyone else gave up. I'm awake now. I'm finally awake.”

Aimee laughed a bitter kind of laugh, and she dragged it out to let him know how ridiculous the remark was, especially coming from him. Had he left because of Emery, or was it to escape her completely?

“Aimee, I don't know who we can trust anymore. Here's Redd's number, if you wanna talk to her.” Joel dictated the number but stopped short because Aimee told him she already had it programmed into her cell.

“Joel, if you're out there, hours away, alone, then what's she doing?”

“She sent out Emery's picture nationwide. She has connections we didn't have before. While she's doing what she can on her end, I'll be here, until something else comes up.”

“And what about money?”

“I took some from our savings. My account's nearly drained.”

Aimee cracked her neck, frustrated, yet not without concern. “You mean,
my
savings? All right,” she finally caved. “Just remember, this isn't some Wednesday night crime drama. The answers aren't
gonna
magically fall out of the sky. There are no writers making sure you come out the victor.”

Joel's sigh filled the speaker. “Just tell me you believe in me, please.”

“I believe
you
believe in it,” she returned, cold.

“Try to remember who we were, Aimee. We weren't always like this.”

“But this is who we are now.” She waited for something, anything, to come from his end, but maybe she'd hurt him too deeply. “And you left me behind. You could've died, for all I knew.”

“Careful, Aimee, you're sounding concerned.”

“Stop it, jerk,” she said in a hushed voice, like she wished it were a secret. Was he right? Was she concerned about him or just angry that he'd left her, alone
with
her thoughts? “I'm not concerned, all right? I want to believe you, Joel. I swear. But it seems like you're acting on a whim, and we need more than that.”

Then the sound of his voice nearly shook her. “
You
need more than that!”

“But you don't know where you are, or where to go. How are you gonna search there with no official lead?”

“I grew up in a city, remember? Cities change their names, but their souls are the same. If she's here, I'll find her.”
Aimee struggled to accept Joel's determination. She hadn't seen him this focused since he had it set in his mind that he was going to start a church so many years ago. He seemed different.

 
“I made a few thousand copies of Emery's picture. Already put up half a dozen on every block. Got chased out of a restaurant too.” Joel seemed amused, and she wondered if he was smiling. “Wish you could've seen their faces. Bunch of cold people.”

“You left Camden for a reason.”

“I left Camden for you. Your father didn't trust us there, remember?”

“He didn't trust anyone anywhere. But I think deep down he admired your passion. You stood up to the man.”

“Well, I wanted something then. Now is no different. Listen, what we have, it's not normal. It's not life. Something has to break. It has to.”

“Yeah,” Aimee whispered in a barely audible sound.
 
She didn't want to tell him that she was holding back tears. “I have to go.”

“Yeah, me too,” Joel said.

“Be careful,” she added before hanging up.

The phone lay cradled in the palm of her hand. Aimee couldn't speak for a moment. She felt literally frozen. Her ear was still warm with the sound of Joel's voice, and for the first time in months, she didn't feel it was out of place. She felt possessed by the sound of each word, embraced by his tone. What it was she felt at the core she didn't know for certain.

A static sound, now nothing more than an echo inside, shook her like a wave. But if just for a moment, she could wish for that wave to belong to anyone, it would be Joel. She knew it. Love? It wasn't love. It couldn't be, not anymore. Not in a long time.
But
something
.
Something strange.
Something foreign to her.
Safety.
 

Aimee walked into the garage, a cold room she hadn't ventured to in months. As she searched for a bin labeled
Family Stuff
, she felt a longing in her chest. To be held, told she was loved. Carlos didn't love her anymore, and maybe he never had. Joel probably hated her so much. One day, her coworkers believed, acceptance would come, and she'd be able to move on. But tonight, the concern lingered.

At long last, she found the big tub of family items. What lay inside were photo albums, Emery's first
A
, and some old recordings. Now and then, these memories were the only things that could keep hope alive in her.

Lately, this was where Aimee came to escape. Joel was usually asleep by the time she managed to choose a family episode. She thought about asking him to watch them with her once or twice, but she believed he'd tell her no, and she reasoned it was better to view them in peace.

After selecting a disc from the collection, Aimee shut the lid and exited the garage. She poured a glass of wine and walked into the living room, putting in the disc and waiting for it to load. In seconds, her daughter's face lit the television. The glare of the dimming afternoon light reflected off the screen. Emery was only five. The wind carried her daughter's hair everywhere it wanted to, tossing it like flecks of sand. Her eyes sparkled inside the lens of the camera that watched her every move, every smile.

And then she'd laugh at something Joel had said, a joke any normal adult would think was amateur at best. But Emery loved her father's humor, always had. The laughter poured out of the speakers and brought a smile to Aimee's lost face. She touched her skin as Emery touched hers onscreen. It was beautiful then, unscarred, soft, and innocent. Most of her baby teeth still hanging on behind those tiny lips Aimee loved to kiss so often.

“Why are you watching me with that camera, Mommy?” her little girl asked.

“Because I want to remember you,” came her reply.

“But you love me. Will you forget me?”

“No. Of course I won't forget you. But the beach is beautiful today, and so are you. I don't want to ever forget all of this magic.”

“Did you hear that, Daddy?” the little girl said. “Mommy thinks I'm hot. Hey, isn't that what Daddy called you yesterday right after he tucked me in? I heard you guys smoochin' in da hallway.” She laughed as the story poured out of her. “You
thinks
I was sleepin', but I'm slick.”

“You
thought,
Emery. Thought is the past tense of think. And apparently I'm gonna have to kiss Mommy more in private.” A young, shirtless man stepped into view. Aimee embraced the sound of the young couple kissing. Did she even recognize them anymore?
A part of them, maybe, but not completely.

“I knowed what I was sayin'.”

“Yeah, tell Daddy to mind his beeswax,” Aimee heard her younger self say. It was so strange hearing the way she used to sound.
Odd how a voice can change, like a body, or the spirit within it.

“Daddy,” little Emery said. “Mind your beeswax. And you have to obey, because I'm hot.”

“Okay, sweetheart. But your mother wants to crack open that new book, so why don't we go catch a wave.” Her husband grabbed little Emery and put her over his shoulder. She screamed playfully, laughing as he took her toward the water. The waves rose and fell along the shore, their foam and fury colliding. The sand was alive with a thousand feet, families, and the tents they brought with them to enjoy a beautiful summer day.

“We were a family once,” she said, wiping away her tears. So many things were lost.

She watched the final few seconds of the recording as the camera panned upward, catching a glimpse of a kite lost in the wind with nothing but the sky to fall into. The sound of Emery's innocent laughter was the last thing Aimee could hear before the screen turned to static.