Wattup guys?
Imma' back!
OoPoPcAnDy - That was close 0_0 Hans is a real sneaky guy isn't he? I suppose that it wouldn't be too much of a surprise if he did decide to put some stuff in her drink, or would it? Sorry, I'm not really helping.
EuphoricalMusicalTieDyeRainbow - Strangely enough, I'm actually not a Whovian, but I have a friend that is OBSESSED with Doctor Who big time. It seems to me that someone does not like the Helsa shipping, I wonder why? I actually, (please don't hate me for this) kind of like the shipping? I must counter your "Helsa has hell in it" with this: Jelsa has jel in it, standing for jelly. I'm sorry. XD XD. I'm so weird.
Topazx - I know right? But I like creating suspense, so yeah. :) :)
Randomperson - It's cool, it happens to me on the regs :( (I'm kidding I totally don't mind) and wow! Someone's a bit depressing! I kid, I kid, and I wish it was snowing! I only got frost and I'm stuck in Britain where it as cold as fffff-fffudge and it's still not snowing which means I've still got school! *sigh* my life sucks.
Enjoy the chapter guys!
P.S. This is from my phone, so sorry if the grammar is messed up.
"We've talked with all the women. Let's try that group over there."
Jack gestured to a small cluster of male homeless-shelter guests gathered around a coffeepot and helping themselves to cookies.
"Okay." Photos of Anna in hand, Elsa followed him across the room, weaving among the cots, and trying to figure out how she'd ended up back in his Explorer, once more trekking through the storm.
Somehow, as she'd watched him go through Anna's room, the offer had popped out in between answering his questions about the items he found, none of which had provided a single additional clue, despite the thoroughness of his search. And he hadn't hesitated to accept, using the same excuse as last night, that people might be more inclined to open up to a concerned sister than to him.
But after that moment in the kitchen, when he'd touched her hand, she suspected the reason was more personal than just that. Then again, that might be wishful thinking...
She was so lost in thought she almost bumped into Jack as he stopped beside a group of five overnight residents, pulling up short just in time.
"Hi, guys." Jack drew her forward, keeping a protective hand on her arm. "We're trying to find my friend's sixteen-year-old sister; and we think she stayed here over the weekend. Were any of you around then?" When a couple of the men nodded and mumbled their assent, Jack tugged the two photos of Anna from her grasp and showed both of them. "Here's what she looks like all dressed up and everyday clothes.
All of the men leaned forward. The two who said they'd stayed over the weekend shook their heads.
"Nah. Don't recognise her." A guy who appeared to be in his late thirties and dressed in ragtag clothes licked his lips and locked gazes with her, sending a shiver down Elsa's spine. "I'd a noticed her, though. She's a looker." He grinned, revealing teeth in desperate need of attention. Based on photos she'd seen of meth addicts while helping a library patron on a research project, this guy was into the drug big-time.
She suppressed another shudder.
"The women mostly stay to themselves, over there." A middle-aged man motioned to the other side of the room. "The staff here don't like us to fraternise, you know?" He chuckled, but it morphed into a phlegmy cough.
"Never hurts to ask, though. Thanks." As Jack started to hand the photos back to her, a thin older man with long, stringy hair and a stench that almost made her reel ambled by. He glanced their way, stopped, and homed in on the shot of Anna.
He reached out a trembling finger and touched the image. "Pretty, pretty, pretty."
Elsa tried not to recoil.
"Yes, she is." Jack slipped in front of her, the photos still in his hand, and edged away from the man, keeping her behind him.
"She smiled at me. Nice smile." The man took a step toward them, his attention riveted on the photo.
Jack stopped.
Pulse leaping, Elsa moved out from behind him. "Did you see her here?"
The man bobbled his head. "Pretty, pretty, pretty. Smiled pretty too. At me, at me."
The lanky guy with bad teeth guffawed. "In your dreams, Shorty."
Jack arched an eyebrow. "Shorty?"
"Yeah. That's what everybody calls him down in Hopeville, where we usually hang out, 'cos he's a bit short of brains. Loco, you know?" He lifted his hand and circled his index finger beside his ear. "Come on Shorty. Time to go to bed." He took the man's arm and guided him toward a cot.
"Pretty, pretty, pretty." Shorty continued to chant the words, but this time he added two more. "Butterfly girl."
Elsa's heart stopped. Raced on.
Jack hadn't missed the reference, either. He was already propelling her after the duo.
As the lanky guy sat Shorty down on a cot, Jack handed the photos back to her and addressed the younger guy. "What's his real name?" He indicated the man who was continuing to mutter under his breath.
"He don't answer to it no more."
"Well...thanks anyway."
"He don't know nothin'. You're wastin' your time."
"I've got all evening."
The man shrugged. "Suit yourself."
As he ambled toward the tray of cookies, Jack dropped down to the balance on the balls of his feet beside the older man. Elsa followed his lead, photos in hand, taking shallow breaths to lessen the stench.
"Shorty, my name's Jack, and this is Elsa, Butterfly Girl's sister. We're trying hard to find her and we thought you might be able to help us,"
"Little sister?" The man focused on her.
"That's right. Butterfly Girl is sixteen."
"Sweet sixteen, sweet sixteen. Sixteen going on seventeen." He said the words in a singsong voice, his smile crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes and revealing several gaps once occupied by teeth.
"Did you talk to her, Shorty?" Jack's tone was steady but firm, keeping the older man on track.
"No, no, no." He shook his head hard, then began to hum an off-key tune Elsa didn't recognize. He tilted his face toward the ceiling and his eyes lost focus.
"Shorty." Jack let three seconds pass. The humming continued. He tried again. " Shorty, can you look at me?" He waved a hand in front of the man's face.
Shorty's vacant eyes swung back to Jack and cleared slightly.
"Did anyone else talk to Butterfly Girl, Shorty?" Jack's words were slow and deliberate.
"Guitar Girl."
Elsa caught her breath. That fit with what the agent at the Greyhound Station had said.
"Did you talk to her?"
"No, no, no! Not allowed, not allowed." He waved a hand toward the other side of the room. "Girls there. Boys here. Like in school. Sister Mary Martha." He rubbed one index finger back and forth over the other. "Bad boy. Bad boy."
Elsa watched Jack, wondering if he'd continue to press the rambling man, keep digging.
He did.
"Do you know how many nights she was here, Shorty?"
The man drifted again, his gaze wandering past Jack's shoulders.
"Cold night. Snow, snow, snow."
Jack tried a different track. "Shorty, did you see her talk to anyone else?"
If the man heard him, he gave no indication. He began singing another tune, but she could only distinguish every other mumbled word. Something about dirt and grime and grease, plus a reference to a minute and a house. All she could make out was the repetitive last line of his off-key ditty: Mr Clean, Mr Clean, Mr Clean, Mr Clean .
Taking her arm, Jack pulled her to her feet. "I don't think we're going to get anything else out of him."
"I don't either. You persisted longer than I would have. But at least he confirmed she was here."
"True." He gestured toward an older man who was relinquishing his registration desk duty to another volunteer. "He's the only one on staff we haven't talked to tonight. Let's catch him while he's on break."
Once again, they wove through the cots, meeting up with the man as he arrived at the coffeepot.
While the volunteer filled a disposable cup, Jack introduced them and launched into the spiel Elsa knew by heart at this point, concluding with the new information that they had reason to believe Anna had stayed at the shelter over the weekend. On cue, she passed the photos over, not expecting a lot when Jack asked the man if he'd seen or talked with the the teen.
To her surprise, however, the volunteer studied the photos with more care than the others had, looking from one to the other.
"I have to say this one rings a bell." He indicated the concert photo. "There was a girl here on Sunday night that reminds me a lot of her. She was more worn around the edges, though, and her hair was pulled back with a rubber band. Still," He inspected the photo "it might have been her. But I didn't see her up close. I was on Monday morning cleanup duty and she was getting ready to leave when she caught my eye."
"Did you happen to notice if anyone on the volunteer staff talked to her?"
"Yeah, that's why I spotted her. I needed some help moving a table, and I waved at the guy who usually does registration desk duty. He and the girl were having a very serious conversation. I think his name is Hans, but I'm new here, so don't hold me to that. And I don't know anyone's last name yet."
"That's more than we had before. You've been a big help."
"I hope you find your sister." He passed the photos back to her. "This is no place for a teenager, but it's better than the street."
"Thanks for your help." Elsa tucked the photos back in her purse. As the man moved off, she looked up at Jack "How are you going to find this Hans guy, assuming that's even his name? I thought the director of the shelter wouldn't give you the names of the volunteers...first or last?"
He took her arm and guided her toward their coats. "He won't. For now, we'll go with what we have. I'll ask him to contact anyone named Hans and pass my name and phone number along with a request to call. If that doesn't work, there's always pretexting." He pulled her coat off the hook and held it up. "You ready to get out of here?"
"More than."
She mulled over his answer as they climbed the steps and returned to his car, which once again needed to be cleaned off, though the snow had definitely diminished while they'd been at the shelter.
When he slid into the drivers seat, she shifted toward him. "I'm curious. What's pretexting?"
"Textbook definition? Digging for information using false or misleading pretences." He twisted the key in the ignition, put the car in gear and pulled out.
"You mean like...lying?" Was Dreamworks and Disney Ltd a little on the shady side after all?
"I prefer to think of it as pretending, the same thing undercover law enforcement operatives do. Is that a problem for you?" He spared her a quick look.
She suddenly felt foolish. "Not when you put it that way. From everything I've heard, undercover work is very risky. It's hard to fault people who put their lives on the line every day to combat crime and keep the streets safe."
"That's what we do at Dreamworks and Disney Ltd too. Except we take on cases that fall through the cracks of official law enforcement. And sometimes the only way to catch the bad guys is to use their own tactics against them. Frankly, I don't have any moral issue with that?"
He skirted some orange cones delineating an area of buckled pavement, where water company workers were toiling under bright lights amid a frozen sculpture garden.
"Must be a water main break." Elsa gave the crew a sympathetic scan as Jack manoeuvred the car past.
"Must be." Jack accelerated. "If it helps put your mind at ease, in this case the pretext will be very simple and designed to do nothing more than reveal the name of the guy Anna may have talked to. He might not know anything even if we find the right guy, but I think it's worth tracking him down and having a conversation. We haven't found anyone else who had contact with her."
"I'm all for that, and watching the bus station."
"On our agenda, starting tomorrow if the buses are running again." He gestured ahead. "And my guess is they will be. The highway ramp is open. They must be making progress in clearing roads." He turned into the entrance lane. "Are you going to be at work?"
"Yes. I'm on days the rest of the week."
"I assume your cell would be the best way to reach you?"
"Yes. I'll keep it with me. My boss also said I can take time off if I need to."
"I'm hoping we can wrap this up before I might have to ask you to do that."
So was she.
Dun...dun..DUNNN!
*Pause for effect*
Waddya' think? Was the tension clear in the chapter?
By the way, Shorty (The guy Jack and Elsa were talking to) is the character from Tangled. You know, the guy who dresses at Cupid, is at the end of the movie, in Tangled Happily Ever After is like "Happy Birthday!" and hardly wears anything?
No?
Never mind. Look it up. I can't be bothered to explain anymore.
The point is that Shorty was giving out the right information, but Jack and Elsa just don't know it.
Next on How to Save Your Sister:
He just had to add one final touch.
Tomorrow, however, it was to disappear. Forever.
She'd been so lovely, had so much promise...
And all the love he'd felt for her hadn't been able to save her.
Get ready for more confusing shtuff from Hans!
Anyway, reviewings are needed for my readings pwetty pweashe.
Thanks for reading!
Ren xxx