Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Irene checks on her sleeping daughter. Mia is motionless, her breathing light.

Irene creeps inside, each step wary. Coming closer, she sees Mia’s closed eyes looking at the wooden wall right beside her bed. Irene draws nearer, hovering over her frame, takes Mia by the jaw, and gently turns her face toward her.

She takes her other hand to peel one of Mia’s eyes open and glimpses the gush of blood-orange filling her vortex veins like an amber-colored rainfall into a barren riverbed.

Irene snaps back, and Mia’s head lolls to the side.

“The time has come.”

***

Detective Russo streaks through the precinct, deaf to the occasional greeting. He heads up the staircase, skipping steps and rushing to his office.

“Hey, Russo,” Mason calls out.

Russo practically shoves past him and enters his office, leaving the door wide open. He goes to his desk and takes out the file with everything he has on Amelia Cassia Trinket.

He whips open the folder, winnowing through it.

Mason waltzes inside. “Well, that was rude—even for you.”

Russo goes through Mia’s medical records and it’s just as he remembered. She has no history of seizures, nor was she diagnosed with any severe mental disorders. Even after the ordeal with Erin.

All that was documented was that she showed signs of PTSD. However, she was not prescribed any kind of medication—and yet Irene had them at the ready.

Russo looks up slowly.

Mason recognizes that epiphanic look on his face—every detective would.

“Talk to me.”

“I need their psych evaluations.” He flicks through to search for the contact information of Mia’s former psychiatrist. “I need to get inside their heads, understand their psyche—especially hers.

“She knows something—which means that they all do.”

“Don’t you think if there was valuable information to be had, it would’ve been shared?” Mason hooks his thumbs around his suspenders.

“If they remembered or even saw something worth remembering and told their psychiatrist, don’t you think she would’ve informed the police?

“Dr. Helena Parker, nice lady. She stated those kids kept silent for most of their sessions—for months.”

Russo gives a sharp nod. “You know her. You know her place of practice, yes?”

“Yes,” Mason says guiltily. “But don’t you have to report back to Jefferson?”

Russo chucks the folder back on his desk.

“Later.” He makes his start to the door. “I need to see her, so you’ll text me her address?”

Mason jabs a hard hand on his chest, bringing him to a halt.

“Russo, you’re on thin ice as it is,” he whispers furtively.

“At least pretend to adhere to procedure and gain the permission of your superior—who just happens to be the most stuck-up asshole and a stickler for the rules in this district.

“He’s just waiting for you to slip up so he can snitch to the Chief.”

Russo swats his hand away.

“I’m chasing a lead. I don’t need his permission for that. Can’t blame me if he doesn’t know.”

He meets Mason’s eyes with a questioning look.

“Will he know?”

Mason sighs and shakes his head. “Not from me.”

Russo claps a hand on his friend’s shoulder and resumes his departure.

***

The elevator dings open and Russo walks out into a sleek atrium.

His eyes peruse the area out of habit before he makes his advance to the front desk.

The woman behind it greets him with a robotic smile.

“Good day, sir. How can I be of service?”

“I’m here to speak with Dr. Helena Parker.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

He removes his badge from his belt to flash at her wordlessly.

Her smile wavers and her fingers fly across the keyboard. She looks up with a tight grin.

“Dr. Parker is currently in session with a client. She will be available this afternoon after five. Is that okay with you, officer?”

Russo nods with mock consideration. “Yeah, I think not.”

He marches onwards, drawing shouts from the receptionist as he walks past the tinted glass offices, pursued by the woman hurrying after him in heels.

Russo reads off the names on the doors until he reaches the last one—burnished wood with her name written in gold. He shows the empty courtesy of knocking before he proceeds to barge in on an ongoing session.

Helena looks up at the door from the seating area. She’s sitting on a cream loveseat, parallel to the one her client sits on. The graying man whisks around to glare at them both, the woman tottering in behind him.

“Dr. Parker.” He flutters the badge in the air before he hooks it back onto his belt. “Detective Mark Russo. I’m here about Keila Venus.

“My apologies for the intrusion, but as you can imagine, it is a time-sensitive case.”

If she is frustrated or enraged, Russo finds it impossible to tell. Anything perceptible is concealed under her shoal of serenity, veneered by professionalism and adaptability.

“Of course,” she says in a silvery and saccharine voice. She turns her attention to address the man. “Mr. Jones, forgive me, but would you mind terribly if we could reschedule our session for a later date?”

“Not at all,” he says, rising as fast as he can, his age holding a loose grip on his words. “If it’s about that missing girl, please. Take all the time you need.”

They clasp hands in farewell, and Helena cups her other hand over his blemished one, smiling.

He retreats and shuffles away, giving Russo a respectful nod on his way out.

“Officer.”

He bows his head with mutual respect. “Sir.”

He turns around and shoos the receptionist out with a foul look before he closes the door behind her.

“Detective, though I appreciate your fervor toward wanting to recover Keila, this is not only my place of work but a place of sanctuary for my clients. I request that in the future you call ahead and book an appointment.”

He pauses with his back still turned to her.

Russo swivels around slowly, lifting his chin.

“A kid is missing—has been missing for a week now. With every moment that passes, our chances of recovering her diminish substantially. So forgive me if I don’t care that I disturbed your little~ sanctuary.~”

Dr. Parker responds to his outburst with infuriating calm. “Please.” She extends her hand to the couch opposite her.

“I’m not one of your clients, Dr. Parker.”

Dr. Parker studies him with an analytical stare. “I believe there is more to your fervor than just wanting to find Keila. You are unsettled.”

He gives her a disparaging look, as if she has said something unbelievably foolish. “I’m unsettled, as you so mildly put it, because I have to find her.”

“More than that. I think your hostility to me is not to me, but to people like me. Therapists.”

Her accuracy stuns him into a temporary silence.

“Yes, I dislike~ therapy~. I think it is a complete waste of time and money.” He raises a half-apologetic hand. “No disrespect to you, ~doctor~.”

“And why were you in therapy? Mandatory psych evaluations for on-duty officers, or was it for a personal reason?”

Temper fraying, his breaths fall harshly beneath his nostrils.

“Dr. Parker, I’m not here to talk about my own mental well-being. I would like to understand the state of mind of your former clients, Mia Trinket, Akin Ballo, Aries Black, and Opal Chiang.”

“The Erin Lockwood case?”

His eyes spark with surprise. “You remember?”

“I couldn’t forget even if I tried.” A hairline crack in her calm exterior. “Those were harrowing times.”

“And it seems they have befallen us once more.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “The details surrounding her disappearance are an exact imitation of Erin’s vanishing.”

“I’m aware. I’ve been following the news.”

“Let me enlighten you on my theory, then,” he says, meandering toward her.

“I believe the same thing that occurred to Erin is what has happened to Keila, despite the time gap. Which only means the perpetrator is one and the same.

“Those kids saw something and I know, like the sun will rise tomorrow, that they know more than what they have said.”

“Doctor-patient privileges. I cannot disclose any information that was discussed during those sessions. You know this,” she chides lightly. “And nothing leaves my office without a warrant.”

Russo bites down on his irritation, his jaw strained.

He tries again, breathing deeply.

“Without breaching anyone’s confidentiality, can you tell me anything about their state of mind? I’m not looking for clues. I’m trying to understand them, then, when they were young and afraid.”

“And what is the difference now?” Each word feather-soft.

“That they are older, but still afraid.” He goes to the left to settle on the edge of the seat.

“They have had a lot of time to process what they went through. For any crime, it would be an abundance of time for offenders to iron out any discrepancies and deliver iron-clad testimonies.”

“If they were criminals, detective.” Her face contorts into shallow concern. “They are only children—victims.”

“I keep hearing how they were tight-lipped about the ordeal seven years ago. But no matter how distraught or scared they were. Those kids were only, as you emphasized, ~children~.

“Which means whether it might have been that very night or the day after, they must’ve let something slip. I bet you pried something from them without them even realizing it.”

She maintains eye contact, but something about her face grows dark.

“Nothing of interest.”

Russo releases a breath that is almost a chuckle. “That was so convincing, I almost believed you.”

She leans in condescendingly, voice slipping to a murmur.

“I do not need your approval or your belief in my sincerity. But what ~you~ need is a warrant to seize any of my files.

“And since you are not in possession of one, I’m sure you can show yourself out the same way you brought yourself in.”

Russo rises with a confidence that oozes arrogance. “It will not be difficult to obtain one, Doctor. And I will be back.”

“As many have said before you,” she says, a chill seeping into her voice. “You are not the first zealous detective who came here issuing demands, haunted by their desperation to find Erin.”

“And that is what will make my appeal an assured success,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “Their ignorance toward the severity of Erin’s disappearance has now led to the vanishing of another.

“Mark my words, the truth lies with those children. Only in times of disaster do people listen, but by then it’s already too late.”

***

~I didn’t like her. And she was right, I held no respect for any person of her occupation. But from the moment we locked eyes, something gnawed at my instincts, even before she opened her mouth.~

~She knew something. But why would she lie? Perhaps to protect the children or to cover for one or all of them—it was a gamble of theories. And yet the truth is far more unfathomable.~

^INTERLUDE: Group Swear^

^TEN YEARS AGO^

“If you mess up again, I’m done.”

Akin put on a serious face and stretched his fingers before he went through with his seventh attempt at playing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

A tab on the piano laid out the groundwork for which white keys correlated with which note he played. Someone as advanced as Opal knew the difference between major and minor scales, whereas someone as inept as Akin did not.

“Remember, C is located to the left hand of the two black keys, G is located four keys to the right of C and A is the key directly to the right of G.”

Akin pretended to understand, which Opal took notice of seconds into his seventh try.

“Noooo.”

She smacked his hand in reproach. Akin yanked his hand away with a shake.

“You’re doing it wrong. Again.”

Akin frowned. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“You don’t have to be an idiot!” she snapped.

Akin’s face dimmed into a guilt-inducing pout. He looked down and swiveled around to face the back of her piano room. Struck by guilt, Opal fiddled with her fingers, eyes seeking the floor in shame.

“I’m sorry…”

Akin didn’t respond.

“You’re actually a faster learner than I was,” she admitted. “I couldn’t even tap the music notes of do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do. My mom got so mad at me…but you…you can almost do a whole song after just a few tries.”

Akin spared her a backward glance. “…Really?”

“Yep,” she chirped, offering him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

Akin reassured her with a terawatt smile. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

The door swept open. Daiyu strutted inside with Erin and Keila in tow.

“Mia’s mom called to say that Mia can’t come over today,” she informed. “And Aries and his grandfather are visiting his grandmother in the hospital.”

Akin’s smile powered down. “Is the cancer getting worse?”

Daiyu let out a sad sigh. “She’s coming out of surgery soon, so Aries will tell us good news, I hope.”

She stepped aside to allow the girls to pass.

“Erin, you’re making me hot just looking at you,” Daiyu complained, brows slamming together. “Why are you wearing a jacket in this heat?”

Erin shrugged her off. “It’s not that hot. And Mr. Lockwood’s house is really cold throughout the seasons, so it’s never too hot for me. Plus, it’s comfortable, and my aba got me this jacket.”

Daiyu found herself unable to dispute that fact. “Katherine’s house ~is~ quite chilly.”

With that said, she retreated and closed the door behind her.

“Whatchu guys doing?”

“Practicing with Akin. He wants to learn to play piano just as good as me,” Opal said with a haughty shoulder bop.

Keila gave them both a suggestive look, drifting toward the back.

Erin strolled inside with a dubious smile. “Akin only cares about soccer. I think he just wants to spend more time with you.”

The whites of his eyes became his most prominent feature in an instant. “Erin!”

She hurried to them and sat at the end of the bench, placing him in the middle. Embarrassed, Akin leaped off and joined Keila’s side, watching them from the rear.

He gave her a delayed greeting, pulling her into a side hug. And she responded warmly, wrapping her arm around his pole-like waist.

“I want to learn, too.”

Opal nodded, and her eyes darted to her hands to instruct her. Erin raised her hands into plain view, fingers hovering over the keys readily.

That was when Opal spotted something alarming. She seized Erin’s forearm and pulled down the arm of the jacket with a hard tug.

“Stop it.” Erin wiggled. “Let go.”

“Opal.” Keila shot forward. “What are you doing?”

She captured a glimpse of the sleeve of dark-colored bruising. Erin slid off the bench, backed away as if exposed for a crime.

“Erin,” Keila whispered. “What happened?”

Erin looked into her arctic blue eyes, striking against alabaster skin and hair.

“What?” Akin asked cluelessly.

Opal stood up. “It’s your stepdad, isn’t it? Leonard did that to you?”

“Did what?” Akin asked.

“The bruises,” Keila said to shut him up.

“Bruises!” Akin shrieked.

“Shh, please,” Erin begged. Her voice was a desperate whisper.

“No,” Opal said with a puckered forehead. “You can’t keep hiding this. It’s like you’re protecting him?”

“She’s scared of him,” Keila corrected her.

“No.” Erin pulled down the ends of her jacket past her hands. “Yes. I’m not protecting him, I’m protecting my ima because I’m scared of what will happen if he gets in trouble.”

The ocean in Keila’s eyes raged. “He’s hurting you and your mom?”

Erin’s gaze fell to the ground. “He shouts at her…he hits me.”

“You can’t keep living like this,” Akin pointed out. “It’s not safe for either of you.”

“We won’t be safe at all if you get him in trouble.” A tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away with a brush of her arm.

“He reminds me every day, every time he sees something on my body that he has done. I can’t get him in trouble.”

“You can’t keep quiet either,” Opal said without compromise. “You just can’t.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Erin reassured her. “Aba always said if I was scared and I couldn’t get help from him, I can get it from God.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Opal said, voice drenched with scorn.

Erin snapped a glare at her. “The righteous man has many troubles; but God delivers him from them all,” she quoted with absolute faith, an unwavering hope in the God of her father.

“God took my aba away and gave me Leonard. He’s cruel to me and doesn’t treat my ima like aba treated her. Despite that…I know he’ll take care of me.”

She smiled at them with warmth. “He gave me all of you, my best friends. I don’t want your pity or for you to tell anyone.”

She stabbed her finger at Opal. “You can’t tell anyone. You can’t help me…none of you can. But He will.”

Opal’s eyes lowered, and she yielded, nodding stiffly. “Fine.”

Erin looked at the rest of them. “Group swear that none of you will tell anyone, not your parents, no one. If you do, you’ll only be putting me in danger.”

A wave of nods, varying in degrees of wholeheartedness.

Erin extended her hand to Keila, who stood opposite her. Keila clasped her hand with Erin’s and they both looked to the other two imploringly.

Opal and Akin came closer to complete the ring and clasped each other’s hands right above Keila’s and Erin’s hands.