Duality
Interlude 3/4
Valerie
Valerie panted as she peddled her bike home from Casper High late at night. Her pace was markedly slower than normal. Running just over three miles had taxed her stamina a little more than she'd like to admit. On the other hand, getting fourth place overall, and first for the girls on Casper High's cross-country team on today's match would certainly be the topic of tomorrow's gossip at the A-Lister's table.
A squad of police cars raced by in the opposite direction, kicking up some gross runoff water and spraying Valerie in the process. She veered in surprise, and nearly collided with a mailbox.
"HEY! WATCH IT!" Valerie yelled at the car. The driver gave no sign that it had noticed her as it turned down the state road with the rest of the fleet.
Valerie scrunched up her tank top, squeezing some of the dirty water out. The right and back sides of her backpack had taken the brunt of the splatter. She didn't need this. If she was lucky, it'd only be her change of clothes that got water damage and not her notebook with the assignments she'd missed the other day. Valerie decided to wait until she got home to take inventory of the damage. She was only three blocks away, in any case.
When she turned the corner for Elm Street she hit the brakes. Across the intersection, an unfamiliar black car was parked in her driveway in place of her dad's.
The dry hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she peddled the rest of the short distance to her house and dismounted the bike, leaving it by the back door.
She took out her key and inserted it into the lock, but it had already been unlocked.
Valerie dropped her book bag. The house was a disaster. Chairs were knocked over, drawers were left open in the kitchen, and the filing cabinet had been gone through. Folders and papers were spread haphazardly through the house.
"What in the…," Valerie muttered under her breath.
But there was no time to finish that sentence. Something glass broke in Val's dad's room, followed by sound of a female voice swearing.
Shit. She was still in the house.
The doorknob turned, and before Val realized what she was doing, she dove underneath the dining room table. The long, draping tablecloth both masked her presence and obstructed her view.
"What was that?" the intruder called out.
Valerie unconsciously held her breath.
A light switch was flicked and the room was bathed in light. The woman walked around the house, and at one point came uncomfortably close to Valerie's hiding spot. The intruder wore polished black leather boots and dark blue jeans.
"… Must've been my imagination," the woman stated flatly.
The pair of boots marched into the kitchen and around the corner.
After what felt like an eternity, Valerie crawled out from under the table.
A phone. She needed a phone. But first…
She looked around for something to defend herself with. A baseball bat would be preferable, but the next best on hand item was a flower vase. Valerie clutched the vase tightly with both hands, then crept back to the entrance where her backpack lay. She set the makeshift weapon aside and opened the bag.
ZIIIIIIIIIIIP
She winced on reflex. Valerie hadn't realized just how much noise her bag made when it was opening before this very second.
Valerie sat perfectly still, listening intently. The door to her Dad's room must have been open, since she could clearly hear drawers being slammed sequentially.
Letting out a slight breath, Valerie pulled out her phone and silently swore when the screen didn't light up, and continued to not light when she held the power button down.
The phone was useless, and her cross-country uniform lacked pockets on top of which. She put the phone down and crept to the hallway to her dad's office.
In retrospect, it would've been all too convenient if the office had a door, much less a lock. Valerie sat in the swivel chair and picked up the phone and—.
*Click*
Valerie froze stiff at the sound of a gun being cocked from behind her head.
"Put your hands on your head… slowly," the intruder ordered.
Valerie hesitated, but eventually did exactly as she was told; albeit she did so with an expression that was equal parts anxious and angry.
"Now… turn around," the woman ordered.
Valerie swallowed a breath, and steeled her face, then turned in the chair to face the woman with the gun.
Whatever Valerie expected the woman to do, abruptly lowering the gun wasn't extremely high on that list.
The woman's eyes went wide. "You-"
But she didn't get the opportunity to complete that sentence. Valerie pressed the distraction to her advantage. She bolted from the chair, and using the thrust of Casper High's best girl's varsity runner, with the fist of an amateur boxer, she sucker-punched the intruder. The woman braced herself at the last minute before going down, but Valerie wasn't going to waste time with her. She quickly hurtled over the woman and scrambled for the back door, where she had parked her bike, and using energy she thought she had all but spent, she raced to Amity's Police station.
The station was only five blocks away from where she started. Valerie pedaled as hard as he could. The rain had picked up and the sun had long since set. She was cold, wet, tired, and perhaps for the first time in her life that she could admit, if only to herself, actually frightened.
She could barely see where she was going, barely think a single coherent thought. The rain poured down particularly hard as she plowed turned off-road for a shortcut through Kwan's back yard.
Duality
Lieutenant Baxter didn't hesitate to roll his eyes at his superior. It might've earned him a reprimand, if the Amity police chief was there in person instead of on the phone.
If he cared to dwell on it for any length of time, it might clue him in on why he was singled out to man the station while the rest of the department was at Amity Harbor.
"Listen up, gumshoe. We're going to be here all night. We've got our hands full with the rescue, never mind the investigation. Situation is under control here, but I want an APB out for that floating felon. Suspect was last spotted soaring southbound for St. Louis," ordered the no-nonsense Chief of Police.
"Got it, Chief," replied the Lieutenant. He held the phone closer to the table than was strictly necessary so she could hear him diligently writing her orders down on the station's stationary.
"Good. Hold down the fort."
And with that, the phone went dead.
Lieutenant Baxter immediately got to work on that APB by carefully balling up his note and making a two-point shot in the wastebasket on the other side of the room.
Baxter could admit that the chief was good, darned good, at her job, but her tendency to alliterate ticked him off.
Besides, ghosts? What hogwash. No one could possibly be dumb enough to believe that.
However, the lieutenant believed in coincidences about as much as he believed in ghosts. Something happened at Casper High a few weeks ago, and something was going on at Amity Harbor right now. (And consequently why he was the odd man out to man the station.) A connection between the two was difficult to point out beyond the destruction and "ghosts", though.
Maybe some weird gang or cult had moved in? The kids all claimed the robot thing was after some 'ghost child'… even his son, Dash, had sworn it. He'd normally laugh it off as some elaborate out-of-control hoax or prank if $80,000 worth of property damage hadn't been amassed at Casper High, and while Lieutenant Baxter didn't really know the first thing about boats, he was pretty sure that they cost much more than a few million dollars, and that wasn't even counting whatever the thing was carrying.
These 'ghosts' were a menace an-
The door to the station burst open with a forceful slam and Lieutenant Baxter's hand reached for his holster on reflex. His hand relaxed when he recognized the intruder as one of Dash's friends. Valerie, he thought it was. The African American girl, 100 pounds, 5'10", the lieutenant guessed, was drenched and tracking in mud.
Upon seeing the officer, Valerie dashed for teller window. Inch-thick bulletproof glass divided the police officer from the civilian.
The girl spoke almost faster than the lieutenant could keep up.
"Oh thank god you've got to help me my home there a break in there was this woman who was going through all our stuff I tried to call but before I could the woman she was about to shoot at me I ran-"
"Woah, whoa, whoa now. Hold on a second," said Lieutenant Baxter as he crossed around to the lobby. He quickly swiped an unopened water bottle from the counter on the way. He'd apologized to Debora for swiping it later… if she noticed… maybe.
The officer handed the teenager the water.
"Drink this. Then start over," he said.
Valerie looked like she was going to fight him on this, but took the bottle and drank anyways.
As she did, Lieutenant Baxter asked the basics as he pulled out his notepad.
"Now, I want you to start over from the beginning. Who are you? What exactly happened? Who was in-"
Lieutenant Baxter was rewarded with a mouth full of water sprayed in his face at point blank.
The man snapped. "What are you thinking?! You little-"
But the teenager's intent fearful focus was on something behind him. Baxter turned. A woman with her arms crossed, who had not been there earlier, was standing at the entrance with a manila folder.
She was wearing a gun holster.
Lieutenant Baxter moved between her and the teenager.
Of all the nights…
"I'm going to have to ask you to take the weapons off and put your hands in the air," he ordered, stern and no-nonsense.
The woman, for her part, rolled her eyes at the instructions, but complied anyway. "Tsh, of course of all people, it'd be Baxter."
"Do I know you?" the lieutenant asked as he approached and kicked the gun out of the way.
"In a sense. We go way back," The woman replied. "Does the name 'Angela' ring any bells?"
As a matter of fact, it did… though in the same way that Bob, Jane, and Betty did. Common names. It didn't narrow it down any.
Changing the subject, Baxter asked while gesturing to the gun, "Do you have a permit to carry this?"
"It's there in the folder, amongst other things of relevance," Angela replied.
Without taking his eyes away from her, Baxter picked up the folder and gun off the floor and sifted through the papers. Angela Silver was the name on the topmost document. Now that name did sound familiar, though he still couldn't actually place it.
"Why aren't you arresting her!? She tried to shoot me!" the young girl spat.
Baxter sharply turned to the woman, who tilted her head, unimpressed.
"One: I never shot anything or anyone. Two: No one was supposed to be at my home at the time. I drew it as a precaut-"
"'Your home'?" the teenager interrupted, "She's lying. I've never met this witch, much less lived with her."
"You were supposed to be at child services," Angela countered pointedly.
"What?" the teenager snapped. "Why would I be there?"
For a moment, the self-absorbed attitude of the woman deflated as she responded, "I think it's best if Mr. Baxter explains this, if you really don't know."
The girl stomped her foot. "What nonsense are you sputtering?"
The lieutenant chose to ignore the spat and continued to skim the papers. The gun permit was indeed there, along with…
He turned to the teenager and asked, "What's your relation to Damon Gray?"
"He's my father. Why?" the girl responded, equal parts confused and distraught.
Baxter steeled his face at that answer.
"I'm going to need to verify this," Baxter stated flatly, playing with the file.
"No rush. Take your time," Angela stated in the polite, formal tone of voice one reserves for formal dinners with people you don't actually like.
He grabbed the child by the arm. "Come with me, and Don't. Touch. Anything."
Baxter unlocked the door from the lobby to the back and dragged the girl and the woman's gun holster in with him. Then he hit the station's silent lockdown button. The woman wasn't going to go anywhere. Technically, Baxter shouldn't be doing a lot of these things, but he was understaffed and had no one around to tell him otherwise.
Through the teller window the officer could see Angela brush herself off then sit cross-legged in one of the waiting chairs. Her irritating demeanor had been traded for pensiveness as she toyed with her boots.
Baxter didn't trust her. Granted, he didn't trust a lot of people; it was practically a job qualification. He reported in to the chief before looking up ID numbers and making a series of phone calls.
Beyond the gun permit, the file contained a divorce contract. Granted, he wasn't a lawyer, but from what he could tell, it could easily dictate at least temporary transfer of Damon's assets given the current situation, and there was extremely short notice orders for child custody and related paperwork.
"For the record, is your name Valerie Gray?" he asked without looking up.
"Yes, why? Why are you asking me these things? Why is my dad important? Who is this woman?" Valerie asked almost all at once.
Baxter didn't respond, and instead read the last file over for the fourth time. If you had asked him, he would've suspected at least half of these documents were forgeries, except for the tiny detail that everything checked out.
And that was part of the problem.
A weekend. After hours. You don't get child services, or any branch of the government to work that quick.
Someone had connections.
Lieutenant Baxter stole a glance through the teller window. Angela looked a million miles away, lost in her thoughts. Preoccupied, maybe, or was it a ruse? Either way, he wasn't going to get any farther with this from where he was.
"What is going on? What aren't you telling me?" Valerie asked.
When Baxter made to avoid her again, she slammed her fist on the counter over the file.
"Stop ignoring me. I demand answers," Valerie stated with resolve.
"Ms. Silver, would you mind coming here?" he asked aloud through the hole in the window.
"Legally speaking, you have guardianship over your daughter, Valerie," began Lieutenant Baxter.
Valerie shot him a pointedly vicious glare, but before she could open her mouth, Baxter spoke more forcefully.
"But as a keeper of the peace, I cannot in good conscience turn her over to you."
"I understand, officer," Angela replied. "… but does Valerie?"
"None of you are making any sense!" Valerie interrupted. "I don't know this woman. Why are you even considering handing me over to her? Where's my Dad? What happened to him?"
Lieutenant Baxter and Angela Silver exchanged a silent look.
"I'm not really at liberty to say…" began Baxter. Which was, strictly speaking, true. The report hadn't even been written yet. Which, again, made Angela's involvement an "Angular Mustache" on the suspicious scale.
"Something… bad happened," supplied Angela. "But that's not the immediate problem."
Baxter continued before Valerie could protest. "Look, I'll give it to you plain. If you don't want to go home with her, you won't have to."
"But," added Angela, "You'd probably be moving to Chicago until this gets sorted out. If you want to stay in Amity Park, you'll have to come home with me."
"I'm not going home with you. And you are not staying at my home!" Valerie shouted. She ground her foot into the floor in emphasis.
"Tell her," Angela stated flatly. "Tell her how long she'll be in Chicago for."
Baxter stiffened. He was hoping to keep Valerie away from her. Angela caught his expression and gave a frustratingly smug grin. The lieutenant was glad there wasn't a crowbar handy, because he'd be severely tempted to remove her smile with one.
"Truthfully, I don't know," Baxter responded with a voice of cold steel.
"Guess," prompted Angela.
"What are we talking about? A few days? A week? This'll blow over and-" countered Valerie.
"Try months," supplied Angela. "Possibly longer… depending on the courts."
Valerie turned to Lieutenant Baxter, who gave a subtle nod in affirmation.
"How much longer?" Valerie asked cautiously.
Angela took a deep breath before she replied. "How much longer until you turn 18?"
Valerie interrupted. "This is a joke. This is some kind of sick, DISGUSTING joke."
"Now don't say things like that. Child Services doesn't hold kids that long," Baxter argued.
"Child Services. Foster care. Really, without other relatives, it's the same thing in the end to her."
"I want my Dad. Where is he? What happened? Nothing happens until I know where he is."
So they told her.
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Sorry for the delay between interludes! Things have been kind of crazy behind the scenes, especially with getting Part 2 ready, since we didn't get as much done over the summer as we would have liked. It may be a bit of a wait until Part 2, but Ava figured they'd at least get the interludes up!