Ashes (22 page)

“That last part's a bunch of horse crap,” Kyro said. “Oh, they sell peace and warmth and happiness, but it ain't real. That place is evil, and it always stunk.”

“
This
is where you think your daughter is, Joel?” Redd said, leaning in close. Her hand fell gently on his back, tickling his spine just by being there. Sympathy poured out of her. “I know you must want it to be true. I know you want to say you've finally cracked the case and found her, but this place…Emery isn't there.”

“How do you know?” Joel replied.

“Because in my dealings, I have, once or twice, been there. Sometimes you get brought to strange places doing what I do. And they keep getting stranger with time. There was a firm that had some
unpleasant
experiences with them. Decided they wanted to file suit. My team was brought in, years ago, to investigate before pushing a procedure into full effect. Turns out it was just a cry wolf. Nothing. We searched that place high and low, interviewed just about every sane soul in the building. It is what it is. A mental institution, put there to help people. Emery wouldn't be there.”

“Man, this broad's talking junk.”

“Settle down, Kyro.”

“This is whack, Cass. I was telling you the truth. Why would I make that stuff up? That place is real. Whatever you're lookin' at on that screen,
that's
the lie. Open your eyes.”

“He seems pretty passionate about this,” she said.

“I have no reason not to trust him.”

“Really? And when did you two meet?”

Seconds of silence intimidated them. “Tonight.”

Redd returned to a straight, stiff posture. “Where?”

“In Boston, some skate park off Boylston.”

“The city? You picked up this juvenile delinquent—” Redd turned toward Kyro “—no offense—in the city at some
skate park
? Look at him, Joel. His socks don't even match; he's dressed like a homeless kid. Doesn't exactly scream,
Trust me
.”

“Cass, she
don't
know what she's talking about. I am who I am, lady. Take it or leave it.”

Redd removed her smile as her eyes became two narrow slits. “I think I'll leave it. Stop wasting this poor man's time. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, kid, but it better stop. After everything he's been through, to toy with his life like this, it's demented.”

“I ain't toying with nobody,
Redd
, whoever you are. You don't know the first thing about me, so screw you if you think you got me all figured out. I spent some time in that hellhole, okay? And it
ain't
what you think it is, and it definitely ain't what that computer says it is. I'm not crazy!”

“Talk about a living, breathing contradiction right there, eh,
Ky-ro
?” She said his name mockingly. “A boy who says he's been to a nuthouse claims he's not a nut. Who would've guessed?”

“Screw you! I did my time in there, and it messed me up. But I
ain't
lost it. I know the things I seen, things I heard. It's the truth. I don't give a rip if you don't believe me.”

Kyro threw himself back on the mattress, tried to get comfortable. With his arms locked inside each other, he started breathing heavily. It was obvious he was hurt by Joel's mistrust and some detective's uncertified analysis of him.

Joel cracked his knuckles. “Is that necessary, kid?”

Kyro stewed in frustration. His breathing remained a thick, stifling addition to the already suffocating room.

“How old are we?” Redd asked him.

Kyro gave her the finger and rolled over.

“You're quite the snake charmer, aren't you?” Joel said to her.

“Yeah, well, I never got the award for delicate ice breaker, but I'm a straight shooter. You hired me for a reason, Joel. I think you should trust my judgment.”

“Man, forget this. I'm outta here.” Kyro found both his sneakers and put them on without tying the laces. “Good luck finding your girl, Casper,” he added. The spite was enough to make Joel wish he'd at least defended the boy in front of Redd.

In seconds, Kyro was gone, but he left the door ajar, punching it as he walked out. Joel wished he'd called out his name or begged him to come back.

“I'm sorry if I crushed your soul a little bit, Joel. But I had to be square with you. Before I went off on my own with this agency, I worked for some big guns. We searched for needles in that haystack for several months, investigating, checking the books, the staff,
room by room
, whole nine yards. But we were lookin' for something that just wasn't there. I don't want us to waste any more time than we already have. If we keep running in the wrong directions, we allow more opportunities for Emery to slip right through our fingers. That's not what you want, is it?”

 
He shook his head. Confusion and apprehension blended within him. Joel wanted to hold Emery in his arms and feel her warm skin as they embraced again. Still, however strange, a part of him held onto Kyro's story. He wasn't sure which part, but it was there.

Redd's hand touched his cheek, and she knelt down to meet him at eye level. Her skin was soft on his. He could taste her sweet breath floating closer toward his lips. Several strands of red hair dropped in front of her glassy eyes. Joel could feel his heart racing.

Suddenly, he wasn't thinking about any of it. Not the case, not Aimee, not Kyro. He was only able to recognize the cracking in his ribs, the
thick,
pulse-pounding beat of a heart that jolted alive. One
breath
. Two
breaths
. He quickly lost count.

“I really should go,” she said softly, almost a whisper.

“No, please stay.”

Redd glanced at the two empty beds. “That wouldn't be very professional, now, would it, Joel?”

He released a long, shaky breath.

“I can't be your escape. You're a good man.”

“You don't know me. Not really.”

“I know enough. You are. And I don't wanna be just a mistake one night in your past.”

Joel bit his lip. It was nearly impossible to avoid imagining what it would be like. He was ashamed to admit that he actually wanted it. There was a passion in him that, even now, at his most desperate, made his body long for the warmth a night of romance might bring. He knew he shouldn't have let his thoughts drift so far away, but the pounding in his chest refused to quit.

“It's late. We'll work out the next move in the morning. I was able to get the room next door. Goodnight, Joel.” Redd leaned in and kissed his cheek.

As she stood up to leave, they both noticed a woman standing in the doorway. The door creaked farther open.

“Aimee?” Joel gasped.

30

 

AFTER AIMEE CLOSED THE door, exiling Redd into the outside parking lot, she held her breath for a while, wondering if she'd burst. Being in the cramped backseat of a taxi for several hours had been nauseating enough, but to arrive at the motel Joel asked her to come to—the one she rushed to—and find him receiving a kiss from a complete stranger—that was too much.

Her ears rang with the screams in her head. “What was that?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Joel massaged his neck. A nervous tick he adopted whenever convenient. “Safe trip?”

“What do you care?” she snarled. “Is that
her
bag?”

A knock disturbed them. Aimee opened the door after waiting a bit, just to let the tension thicken.

“Hi, Mrs. Phoenix.”

“Aimee's fine, Redd.” Aimee put extra emphasis on the last few letters. She didn't like this investigator, and the distaste had nothing to do with her ability or inability to find their daughter, which at this point was flimsy speculation.

“There's no reason to feel threatened,” Redd assured her. “Seems I just forgot my bag right on the bed there.”

Aimee let that image settle in her mind.
A dropped suitcase on one of the motel beds.
Suddenly, the kiss she'd accidentally walked in on returned. It shouldn't have bothered her, any of it.
The fact that this strange woman might have slept with him.
She expected that, after some searching, she'd uncover a bra tucked under the mattress or a hair dryer plugged into one of the outlets in the awkwardly diminutive bathroom. Unwanted thoughts crisscrossed her brain: the two of them enveloped with one another, groaning, panting,
kissing
.

Redd walked right by Aimee, who was too lost in the awful fantasy boiling in her blood to even see the beautiful stranger grab her suitcase and exit.

“You can close the door now. Thanks for not making it weird,” Joel sarcastically noted. “My goodness, you have impeccable timing.”

“Is she the replacement?” Aimee asked, closing the paint-faded door.

“Don't start.”

“Why? Did you already finish?”

“I asked you to come so we could talk face to face about all of it.
About Emery.
I don't want to fight anymore. I'm sick and tired of fighting. Besides, it's not like we're still together or anything. You made that very clear. Last time we had sex, I think NASA was planning its first trip to the moon.”

“Very funny. So you had sex…with her?”

“Am I on trial? She's the investigator! We were discussing the case.”

“Really?”

“Really. Not like it's any of your business.”

Aimee hated this. She'd prepared for it, sure, but it was still somewhat surprising that it actually kept happening this way. She and her soon-to-be ex-husband were incapable of communicating without spiteful arguments. The road in front of her got wider, foggier. She wanted an exit soon.

“You're right. It isn't my business who you do or don't sleep with.”

“For the love of…I did not sleep with her!” Joel yelled. “Get that through your head. Can we please derail this train?”

“Nice metaphor. Kinda fits, considering.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“You would know, Joel.” Her eyes flashed, and her nose flared. Was there anything left other than empty quarrels and bitter words? She brushed by him rudely and went into the bathroom to rinse the fatigue from her face. Really she just needed to retreat before her transparency gave her away, if it hadn't already.

Aimee wasn't in there ten minutes before there was another knock on the door. She fixed her hair and cracked her neck. Then Aimee returned to the frontlines.

“Who is that?”

Joel didn't look all that inspired to acquiesce to any more of Aimee's probing questions.

A small black boy with obvious wardrobe issues stood in the center of the room. “Man, Casper, you get around,” he said. “But I think we can work with this one.”

“Excuse me? I don't know who you think you're talking to, but I am not some piece of meat for your twisted imagination.”

“Is this your old lady?”

Joel blew out a deep breath and nodded.

“Not bad,” the boy said, bumping his fist against Joel's. “She's kinda spicy.”
 

 
“Who
are
you?”

“I'm Kyro. K-Y-R-O.”

“Your name sounds like a pathetic comic book character.”

Kyro took offense. “Look, we just met. Ease up, baby.”

“
Baby?
My name's Aimee.”

Kyro smiled devilishly. “Yes, it is. So you must be the culprit. You're the reason we're here—well, sorta.”

“I don't follow.”

Joel started to fill her in, but Kyro insisted
he
tell her how it all went down. “So my gramps was Abraham Finch. You knew him, I think. You worked at the hospital where they sent him to rot. Anyway, that's how he met
her
. Emery, your daughter.” Kyro pulled the photograph out of one of his socks. Aimee recoiled. “Easy, baby, I showered yesterday. Look, this is how it is. Your girl and Abe, from what I heard, they was friends. She meant a lot to the old man. And the old man meant a lot to me.”

“Okay?”

“Man, she's tight, but she ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, pops.”

“Are you just gonna let him talk to me like this?” Aimee directed her frustration at the grieving mess of a man leaning, hunched over, on the motel bed.

Joel scratched his scalp. “Like what? That's how he talks…to everybody.”

“All right, let me spell it out for ya. Your husband, Joel here—”

“Soon-to-be ex-husband,” Aimee interjected.

“Whatever. He comes up to me and my crew, asks us if we seen her. After we mess with him a bit, and this knucklehead drops his wallet, I check him out. Start putting two and two together. I seen his license was from Connecticut, near the place Abe died. Last name Phoenix. Same last name as that chick that made old Abraham smile 'fore he checked out.”

Kyro noticed Aimee still wasn't registering it all correctly, so he came out and said it. “I think I know where your daughter is.”

“Yeah, but right now, it doesn't seem likely,” Joel corrected.

“Why, 'cause some cute tail said so?”

“Redd's been there, Kyro.”

“And I haven't?”

“She led an in-depth investigation on the facility and the staff. I think she knows a little more than you do. After I met you, I allowed my better judgment to get swayed.”

“Nah, you got it backwards, dude. She ain't dealing straight with us.”

“Oh, please. Let it go, Kyro. She's checked every inch of that place. Have you?”

 
Kyro choked up.

“Have you even seen this ‘underworld' you speak of? Is there any proof at all that it exists? Solid proof?”

“Where's your faith, man? I came back here 'cause I thought if your brain had a second to cool off from all them hot flashes you been gettin' from Little Red Riding Hood, you'da come to your senses by now. But you're just dense. You believe whatever you want to believe. Forget this. Come morning, I'll find Emery on my own.”

“Thought you said it was a suicide mission,” Joel said.

“It is.” Kyro's tone seemed to split. “But if you won't go look for your own daughter, I will. I ain't gonna be a little coward no more, man.”

“I'm not a coward. But Redd is right. There's no solid proof. No evidence. Am I supposed to go in there and make a fool of myself?”

“You gettin' scared, Casper?”

“Look, maybe I was wrong about all of this. It was a stupid hunch.”

“No, it wasn't. You
was
talking sense on the car ride in. I was a chicken. But this is real. Is
she
? Hell, do you even know her real name? Redd. Yeah, that sounds legit. What's she hidin' from us?”

“Stop it, Kyro. Just stop it.”

“You gonna white-flag this one, ain't you?”

“Maybe I read into leads and believed what I wanted to. Maybe you're right about me.”
Joel's struggling smile dissolved.

“Or maybe
you
were right,” Aimee finally broke in. It was hard for her to admit it, but the compliment came out nonetheless. “I haven't seen you so passionate about anything in a long time. You drove out here to the middle of God-knows-where to look for her when everyone, including me, was against you.”

“Here it comes,” Kyro added. “If you guys start suckin' face, I'm throwin' that ish on You Tube.”

“Give it a rest, kid,” Joel sighed.

“Just sayin'. I
ain't
gonna sit here and feel like the awkward third wheel doing nothin'. Both of you got some serious lovey-dovey baggage to get straight before we go down that road, if you ask me.”

“We didn't,” Joel and Aimee said together.

“Look, Joel, I know you better than either of them. When you're this stubborn, it's for a reason. And I think this strange…thug…
person
is right.” She ignored Kyro's rolled eyes. “Your gut brought you here, and it led you to him, who just so happened to be related to some hospice guy Emery volunteered for. Maybe there are bigger things happening here than any of us.”

Joel still needed convincing.

“Your old lady's spittin' sense at you, Cass. My story's legit. Believe or don't, doesn't matter. Tomorrow, I'm finding a way to get in and get some answers. Or I'm gonna die tryin'.”

“You seem like a fighter, Kyro,” Aimee said. “Thank you for wanting to help my daughter.”

“What can I say? Just a stupid comic book character that wants to change the world, baby.”

“And a real smart mouth,” Joel added. “Okay. Maybe there is something at work here bigger than all of us. I felt it before I even left, Aimee. But I couldn't tell you that then.”

“Things are different now,” she said. “I get that.” Her eyes wanted him to stare into her. Still she couldn't believe how careless she'd been. She had reacted in the complete wrong way, getting angry at something she
thought
she saw upon her arrival. It wasn't fair to either of them.

“You back in, Casper? Let's go kamikaze on this motha.”

“I swear, they're
gonna
invent a new language just for you,” Joel sneered.

“Kyro-nese, baby. Respect that.” The kid laughed.

* * *

He seemed so far away. Joel was punching keys on his laptop. Aimee didn't know what he was working on, but theories were circulating. As to why his fingers were so glued to the keyboard, she surmised that the biggest reason was avoidance. And it was killing her inside.

Kyro had purchased a dozen candy bars from the parking lot vending machine, and he bought Joel and her cheese Danishes. The little spazz was hyper enough before devouring half the pile. Now he was sprawled out on the adjacent mattress like some wounded war veteran with six bullets in the gut. No doubt a sugar coma was working its way through his system. Candy wrappers and chocolate smears littered the comforter.

Aimee kept watching the ceiling fan spin overhead. Lying flat on her back, she counted every stain that tarnished the otherwise white ceiling. The smell of cigarette smoke in the room wouldn't leave her nose.

“Charming place,” she said under her breath.

“It was all I could afford,” Joel said.

She hadn't meant for him to hear, but she was glad he acknowledged
her,
glad she could share a few words with him, even if it wasn't on purpose.

“How can you concentrate with him snoring like that?”

Joel shrugged.

“What are you working on?”

At first it was as if he didn't have time to respond. His eyes were glued to the LCD screen.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” he eventually said.

“I said
,
what are you working on?”

Reluctance held him tightly.

“Secret?”

“Just something I've been trying to write for a while. I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but it still wants to come out.”

“You used to write all the time,” Aimee said. “When we first got married, I couldn't pull you away from the typewriter. Competed with that thing for years.”

He smiled. “And eventually won.”

His eyes went back to the screen.

She had been hoping the conversation might evolve
on its own,
but perhaps it was too soon for wishes to come true.