Flutter (12 page)

“Hey hey! I need that! You can’t just take my memory card like that.” Cons was flustered and anxious.

“We’ll mail it back to you. It’s police evidence,” Finch smirked on her way out.

“But I have personal…”

“I’m sure it’s nothing we haven’t seen,” Brown opened the door. Brown and Finch stepped out and closed the door. 

Eddie ran over and opened the door. “I need that back by tomorrow!”

“Forget about it. You’ll get it when we’re done.” Finch didn’t even turn her head to address him. They disappeared around the corner. 

Abigail and Roger had a late night playing with Roger’s inventions. They made a lot of progress on a few of his machines and moved on to a more complicated project. Roger wanted to make a safety vest for police and security officers complete with bullet proof protection, LED signaling lights and straps for extra clips, a flashlight and flares. A few months earlier, a state trooper pulled over a speeding drunk driver. While he was in the breakdown lane, he was struck by an oncoming car and died. Massachusetts then instituted the
Pull Over
law which stated that if a driver passed an emergency vehicle or officer in the breakdown lane, the driver must pull over to the next lane or drastically reduce speed if pulling over safely was not possible. If drivers could not see the officers, Roger thought it would be safer if the officer wore a protective vest to signal to drivers that he or she had exited the car and was on the road. It was just an idea, but Abigail thought it was clever.

Roger woke up first when his mother glanced into the room.

“MA!” 

“Just checking if you were awake! Sheesh!” She closed the door again.

“I have to get my own place.” Roger went and watched a little bit of the news with his mother. Because he was extremely excited to spend this much time with Abigail, he couldn’t resist checking up on her every few minutes. Occasionally he would simply look in the room to watch her sleep, hoping he could catch her waking and be the first person she would see in the morning. He finally left her alone, letting her sleep while he took a shower and then prepared breakfast.

Deep in the jungle night, Abigail’s feet sunk into the muddy terrain of rock, sand and fallen foliage. She was lost as the jungle forest closed in around her. Lightning cracked in the cloudless sky splitting rocks and setting fires in the ground near her bludgeoned feet. Streams of blood ran down her arms and pooled into the palms of her hands as black fur seeped from the pores of her skin. She grunted her teeth in pain. The black fur grew longer and thicker, wrapping around her body like a cocoon. Thorn covered vines from the ground tangled around her feet ripping into her skin. She struggled to break free but could not get away. Around her, little blue eyes appeared in the night shadows, watching her like prey. She could see their fangs dripping with blood, sweat and saliva.

Suddenly, the vines pulled her feet from underneath her causing her to fall. Her body smacked against the ground before the vines lifted her up into the air. She hanged upside down. The beasts with drooling mouths and blue eyes, charged as native drums played. They stood up straight like men as smoke emitted from their heads. They jumped, growling, swinging their claws at Abigail, missing her face by inches she could see they had hands instead of paws. The fur wrapping her body also wrapped around her mouth and crawled into her nose and the smoke from the beastly beings rose into her nostrils. She could not scream; she struggled for air. 

A man whose face was black as coal came from the midst of the beasts. He was dressed in all white. He took a mahogany colored spear with a stony tip and pierced Abigail in the center of her back. Her body curled as the rod delivered an electric current, cutting deep into her spine. Black blood drained down. The vine wore weak and began to tear. The beasts below waited. Their eyes went black. They drank the blood that dripped from Abby’s hanging cocoon. The drums beat faster. The beasts growled in anticipation of Abby’s inevitable plummet. One ordinary butterfly fluttered from below, past the smoke and blood scented air it fluttered upward ascending towards Abby. Abigail’s eyes focused and followed the light purple winged insect as it eventually landed on her nose and immediately turned to ashes. The vine tore. Little by little she lowered and squirmed, watching the last thread give way. She fell.

Abigail jumped out of her sleep from another frightening dream. Gasping for air, she was shaking, sweaty and cold. The pillow was damp. Roger entered the room just as she woke and sat on the bed next to her. She was happy to see him. She was slightly embarrassed because Roger had never seen her coming out of a nightmare before; she felt vulnerable and weak. Roger was sympathetic and concerned for her. He only wanted to be closer to her and care for her, but he had nothing to offer her except for a friendly embrace. She was accepting of whatever he had to offer.

“Hey. Elvis. You ok?” He knew she must have had another one of those dreams that she had told him about in the past. As far as he knew, she was having the nightmares more frequently and they were becoming more and more vivid each time. He put his arm around her and gently rubbed her shoulder and neck with his hand. He slightly touched her hair, pushing it away from her face as she closed her eyes and calmed down. She took a few deep breaths until her heart beat slowed to an acceptable pace. He wanted to kiss her, but he was afraid. “Are you ok?” He asked again. 

“Yeah. Shit. Sorry. I kind of forgot where I was for a minute.” She put her head on his shoulder but picked it up again quickly.
It’s Roger.

“Bad dream again?”

“I wish they would stop. More importantly, I wish I knew what they meant. I’m assuming they mean something but maybe they don’t mean anything. Maybe I’m thinking too deep about it.”

“Maybe not. Maybe your mind is trying to help you remember some things in your past. Things you may have tried to forget.”

“I can’t imagine that what’s happening in my dreams could have ever been real.”

“Maybe they’re symbolic. Like a puzzle. You just have to focus and put the pieces together.”

“I’m trying, Roger. It’s just not triggering anything that I can think of.”

“I hope you figure things out soon.”

“Thanks. I do, too. Anyway…”

“Yeah well, what do you wanna do today? You hungry? I made you breakfast.”

“Yes. I can smell it. I’m starving. Thank you. Is it okay if I take a shower first? I feel a little icky.”

“Of course. Meet me in the kitchen when you’re done. I left a red towel for you in the bathroom.” Roger stood up and walked away. Abigail watched the muscles in his back flex from behind his tank top.
When did Roger grow muscles?
She thought about how much Roger had matured since they first met. His jokes and insults slowly turned into compliments, kind words and small acts of chivalry. She didn’t really think about them until today. When she looked back, for the past month or so he had been treating her differently. She thought about it for a moment but shrugged it off as a misinterpretation of signs at a confusing time in her life.

Abigail picked up her backpack, walked out of the room, entered the bathroom and shut the door.

Finch and Brown drove back to the station separately. Chief Downy wanted a face to face debriefing of the information that had been collected at Chapel and Case. There was a lot of pressure coming down from the mayor and commissioner about cleaning this up quickly and quietly. The cloud service was great for collecting data, but Downy was still old school and wanted to hear about the detectives’ gut feelings and wanted a face–to–face interpretation and update. And though he had immediate access to her notes, he believed that not all information should be shared via an Internet–based shared file system.

Finch and Brown parked in the lot and walked in together. They did not speak to one another as they went up the stairs to the second floor. Brown sipped coffee from his thermos. The staff was very busy as there had been a shooting in Mattapan and another in Dorchester that same night. It was speculated that two rival bike gangs were hashing it out over race winnings. Two men had been arrested thus far.

Finch knocked on the chief’s glass door. He waved for them to come in.

“So what do we have?” Downy got straight to the point.

Brown spoke, “We have a left forearm of a john potentially 5’11 to 6’1 in height. We made an observation of a tan line on one finger which we figured sported a ring at some point. The guard confirmed it was the arm of the Robert Benson, according to what he knew about the short finger and tan line of the ring.”

Finch butted in, “We are still trying to get DNA samples to confirm, but we are pretty sure that we have his arm. Benson was the COO of Chapel and Case and has been missing for about two weeks.”

Downy wanted more information, “Tell me about Benson.”

“We haven’t got much information on him yet. We’ve been chasing down this window washer who found the arm,” Brown said.

“And we met with him this morning. Confiscated some evidence that we will bring down to the lab.” Finch was nervous because she knew that getting information on Benson was essential, but they still didn’t have enough to evidence to close the case.

Brown added, “Finch made an observation that this may be connected with the Alan Jiang murder case in Portland. It could be sheer coincidence, but it’s odd that both the company CEO and COO end up missing.”

“But remember, sir. We still don’t have a body, so technically this is a missing persons case, not a homicide,” Finch wanted to be clear.

Downy said, “I know; but by the looks of it, we will find a dead body soon enough. No one is walking around with that type of amputation, without seeking medical care and living to tell the story. Check the local hospitals within a 50 mile radius and see if anything comes up. Ask if anyone with an amputated arm came in. I know he was ID’d by the guard, but get me some DNA. I feel like this case is going to go off the deep end.”

“Thanks.” Finch was no longer nervous.

Downy said, “Excellent job on the spreadsheet. I may have you host a training session on this in a couple of weeks after everything calms down.”

“Definitely! Anything you need.” Finch was feeling better after hearing Downy’s comment.

They left the office. 

Finch said to Brown, “I’m gonna go to my desk, do a little research and call those hospitals.”

“Ok, no problem. You know where to find me.”

They turned their backs to each other and walked away.

The lower half of the bathroom was constructed of white ceramic subway tile. The upper half was painted canary yellow; the sink and tub had stainless steel fixtures. The bathroom had a two by three foot window with textured translucent glass held tight between the frames. Abigail reached into the tub and turned on the water. She took the clothes she intended to wear and placed them on a little chair on the side of the room. She grabbed her tooth brush, brushed her teeth, took off her clothes and got into the steamy water.

As she showered, the water steamed up the bathroom to the point where her vision was only inches in front of her. Abigail was wet and naked and soapy. She whipped her head around as if she had heard someone moving behind her. She looked left and right. She had heard something but couldn’t place its location. She remembered her dream where she was free falling into the fog. She heard a faint growl and a wolf’s howl. She rinsed off, stepped out of the tub and made her way to the other side of the bathroom, finding the door. Her heart was pounding. She thought someone or something was behind her. She opened the door and a swift breeze released the steam from the room. She quickly reclosed the door when she remembered her nakedness would be exposed. Abigail was afraid and panting as if she had just run a mile and could barely catch her breath. 

Her nightmares were now interfering with real life. They were emerging from the night and now clouding her mind, obscuring what was real from what was not. Abigail could only imagine what would happen if it got worse. She was losing her mind. She leaned against the door and banged her head three times hoping she could knock some sense into herself.

Roger knocked on the door. “You find everything ok, Elvis?”

Abigail tried to pull it together. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m okay. I’ll… I’ll be out. Just give me a minute. I’m almost dressed.”

“Ok. Just checking up on you.”

They both stood on either side of the door, wanting to say more, but didn’t. Roger hesitated, but then shook it off and walked back into the kitchen.

Abigail grabbed the towel to dry herself. She dried her legs and worked her way up her body. She then applied lotion to her feet, legs and arms. Roger’s bathroom had two mirrors almost directly across from one another which created the eerie optical illusion of reflections like one would see in a House of Mirrors at a county fair.
Who would do this?
She looked at her hair and brushed it to the side. She rarely wore it back. She looked closely at her face, inspecting it for pimples. Then she noticed something she had never seen before. She could see a reflection of her back in the mirror behind her, a sight she hadn’t seen in God knows how long. Though there was a mist in the room and condensation on the glass, she could see that there was a string of tattoos running down her spine. “What the hell?”

She took a towel and wiped down the window so she could get a better look. She investigated the markings by twisting her body around. Her everyday garb of hoodies and turtle necks covered up her back and she had never noticed the markings. She grabbed a hand held mirror from the shelf. “What the hell is this?”

Amazed at her discovery, Abigail quickly got dressed and ran to the kitchen. Roger could tell something was wrong but didn’t say anything right away. She met him eye to eye with a glance. She took off her shirt. He wasn’t sure where this was going and began to sweat. She turned around. She moved her wet hair over her shoulder. Roger dropped a spoon on the stove and slowly walked over. He examined the tattoos. He put his left hand on her shoulder and lightly ran his index finger down her back.