Chapter 24

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Homecoming

Humorist Will Rogers once observed, ""Did you ever see a place that looked like it was built to enjoy? Well this whole state of Maine looks that way." Joe, a person very at ease with nature, had no doubt he would love to spend more time in the densest forested state. With all his heart, he would want to bring Hallie to experience the state where the old-world fishing villages and seaside towns amidst the understated majestic of forests and coastlines of the Atlantic Ocean, would let her immature mind gain an education that the textbooks could not give- an education of the heightened senses reawakened by the beauty of Earth.

They were in a small town called Van Buren, named after the 8th president of the United States of America. It population dwindled around 3,000. Two thirds of the town was covered in forest and, if visiting the town for an entirely different reason, he might bask in the beautiful sight of Saint John River on the Northern Boundary. Hell, he might even walk across the street and step into Canada for an 'overseas' holiday.

The moment Simon had his act ready, he accompanied Joe to Maine. After a four hours flight to Presque Isle's regional airport and another hour and a half drive down to Van Buren, they were finally driving deeper and deeper into a mess of spruces and fir towards the pond.

It wasn't a very huge pond and it was isolated, stagnant with duck weeds growing wild on the sluggish surface. Simon said when they dredged up the skeletal, tiny bodies years ago, they gathered the depth to be around fifteen to twenty feet. Joe didn't even know why he was doing this- why he would be searching for his daughter's body in an old grave. They didn't even know if Hallie was alive or dead.

Two boats took them out to the middle of the pond and Joe changed into his diving gear after stripping down to his boxers while Simon was supposed to watch the rope, being a non-swimmer. Joe tested the tank after strapping it on and was satisfied. One end of the rope was tied to his belt while the other to the boat. Simon made sure that both knots were secured before he jumped in.

Beside them on the other boat, the two policemen did the same on Simon's request earlier.

The water blocked some of his sense and heightened the rest. The sense of touch especially became something he could live with numb. He didn't know what funny creatures lurked beneath the dark, murky water with random distilled rays of sunlight that managed to sneak past the large, dense patches of duckweeds on the surface. Some pond fishes and organisms brushed against him- an irrational part of him thought that it was the spirits of the dead children. Flashing the torchlight at the bed, he began to search for a child's body tied down with bricks.

Please, let there be none... let there be none…

The police who dived in with him beckoned him and his heart sank into his stomach. Sucking in oxygen from his tube, he tried not to cry but already, hot tears stung his eyes and blurred his already pathetic underwater vision. He swam in laborious strokes over to the policeman and was relieved to see that it was a crate the policeman had found.

A crate locked and chained. Interesting.

He surfaced and pulled off his tube, treading the waters, "There's a crate underneath!"

"Anything else?" Simon peered over the boat and it rocked a little. Fear of falling into the water instigated Simon to lean back again to regain the balance.

"Thankfully, no." Joe slipped on the tube again and sank down to the depths for another look before they move over to another area.

Then he realized that a child's body was small enough to fit into the crate. It wouldn't be too hard to hack it so as to stack the parts in.

***

The cab drove up into the driveway under dusk's purple blanket. Though he was exhausted, his spirit and mind provided him with the fuel that his body no longer wanted to give. Drawing strength from the reserve accumulated by fear, anxiety and desperate hope, he exited from the cab and strode purposefully into the house. The door was unlocked and when he stepped into the living room, he saw his father hunched over on the sofa in serious discussion with Vanessa who was seated cross-legged on the floor. Loose strands of hair that escaped from the ponytail's clasp plastered down the curve of her slender neck with perspiration even though their powerful ceiling fan was whirling quietly above. They hadn't noticed him enter the house.

"We have done all we can, Vanessa. Now we wait for Chief to call us back…"

"Dad, Ness." Frank drawled a lethargic greeting and their heads shot up with a carbon copied startled glint in their harried eyes. Fenton smiled slowly, nodding at him in acknowledgement.

"Your mom went out to get some take- out."

"Ok. I'm going to wash up first and I'll join you guys later." Frank didn't want to waste precious time finding out how Vanessa's purpose in the house. He just wanted a shower a cup of double-shot espresso and some sanity.

About fifteen minutes later after using Joe's washroom, he scampered down the stairs smelling like a zesty, citrus fruit. The unfamiliar scent actually perked him up a little but he still needed his coffee. The only coffee addict in the family, he wasn't surprised to find that the jar of coffee powder depleted. However, he couldn't understand why. Frank was never one to throw tantrums though when faced with such domestic disappointment. He stepped out of the back door with the empty jar in his hand. Wanting to just let it go but failing terribly, his frustration sprung forth from so many terrible sources mounted and he threw the jar violently into the garbage can. The sound of glass knocking against hard plastic didn't give him respite. It merely served to agitate him.

GREAT! CALLIE, HALLIE AND ELLE ARE IN THE HANDS OF SOME PSYCHO AND I CAN'T GET COFFEE! WHAT MUST A MAN SUFFER THROUGH TO GET SOME BLASTED COFFEE!

"ARGHH!" Frank kicked the can over and it toppled down uselessly, spilling bags of uncollected garbage onto the ground. The jar rolled out, as if it was trying to escape from his deadly clutches. He stared as it rolled down the pavement in a skewed path and finally fell and was trapped in the gutter between the road and the curb.

Maybe he was too exhausted, having not slept a wink since Callie's gone. Maybe Joe's anger problem was contagious. Maybe he simply wasn't as strong as he would like to believe.  Maybe because he was still haunted by the memories and scars of that great case he solved.

Maybe because he was nothing without her and now, he feared it was too late to let her know just how much he wanted to be her husband.

It's not the time to lose it. C'mon, Hardy. They are depending on you. She is depending on you. You cannot lose it!

And you need her. You love her. So you better get yourself together and get her back.

***

The crate was hauled up by Joe and the Van Buren police officer. When they safely gathered on the muddy grass patches around the pound, Joe was shivering under the hot sun and wished they could get to some place where he could dry off and change back into his clothes. Simon looked at him with some concern.

"Want a stick to warm up?" He offered Joe a cigarette from a slim, metallic case. Joe waved his hand in a negatively reply.

"So, what do you think we have here?" Joe nodded at the crate which Officer Crank, the one who didn't dive in, was hacking the lock away with a hammer he retrieved from the boot of the police car.

"Can't be sure. The pond is like some weird hang-out place for the kids. Some of them came here to pay respect to the dead kids and babies found here. The visits died down after someone jumped in and almost drowned. Swore something was pulling at his leg. This could be some offering of some sort… I don't know."

Joe hugged himself around his waist, trying to absorb some summer's heat into his body, "Did anyone out of town visit it lately? Or have anyone seen suspicious characters loitering around the pond?"

"Nay, some imaginative kids said they saw ghosts gathering here. But if anyone from some place else came into town, we'll know. Look at us; we practically know one another's history." Officer Clayton, the diver, pushed a lock of dripping hair out of his eyes and gestured around vaguely. His voice had a particular nasal twang that grated Joe's ears.

"Once the hype's over, hardly anyone comes into this part anymore."

"If someone knows the town pretty well, can they come in unnoticed? Maybe walked through the forest or hide out in the night…" Simon suggested and Officer Clayton stroked his chin before shrugging.

"Well, they might. Can't discount that."

The hammer broke the chain with one final, forceful strike by Crank. Everyone crowd around him, peering down at its contents. Joe heaved a sigh of relief- there was no bones, no chopped up body parts, just some Ziploc bags protecting miscellaneous items like some trinkets and letters inside them. Joe took out a bag filled with envelops and retrieved the contents, careful to make sure his hands were relatively dry so he won't smudge anything written in ink inside. One by one, his eyes perused through heartbreaking, disturbing letters from a son to a mother, obviously dead. The person writing the letters must have led a traumatic life of immeasurable unhappiness. Joe's eyes were stung with tears of morbid pity.

Dear Mama,

I will have made you proud. Are you happy up there? I try to bring you gifts but I can't come here too often. Today's your birthday and I waited until today.

I know how much you love this pond. We used to come here together and you used to tell me so many wonderful stories when the moon was high up in the sky and deep down in the bottomless waters. I missed those times. Sometimes, when I miss you, I come here and try to scoop the moon up. You used to say I'm silly for doing that. I imagined you telling me how silly it was and yet, indulging me in my childish fantasies.

I'm risking a lot to come here and give you your birthday present but for your sake, I have to. I know you're around here somewhere. Our house is gone but when I run up the plateau and gazed down on our little town, I can still it in my mind. An ugly red building takes its place now. Nonetheless, in my mind, everything's the same.

I see you mama, sitting by that boulder, lamenting to the duckweed. I know you're crying because they are lost to you. Don't worry, mama, I won't let anyone take anything away from you again.

Love, Little B.

And mingled with those tears of pity were tears of anger and elation. A confusing mix of emotions churned in his stomach. He had trusted his gut feeling- it has served him well so far. This was the man.

Little B. Red building.

It was time to head back to town.

***

"Your daddy's dead." He told her flatly- small, black eyes taking in her expression of shock, disbelief and helplessness. A child- no matter how defiant or intelligent she was, she was still a child.

She gazed at him blankly with rounded, tears-swollen blue eyes before shaking her head, but no longer as vigorously as before. Then the tiny face scrounged up as hot tears spewed from her eyes.

"No! Lying! Daddy not dead. Daddy will find me… daddy said he will never lose me! Don't believe you!"

"Oh yes…" He was bored of her tirades. Children were all the same. This one was no different. After the initial stubbornness, her immature resolve shattered when she realized she was really separated from her parents and would never see those two contemptible individuals anymore. It was useless telling children his purpose and motives. He just knew the voice in his head.

Only his mother knew how to take care of them. His mother would love this brat who was so undeserving of her love. But he heard her voice telling him that she wanted her.

The other also wanted her for personal reasons. The other was becoming more agitated and annoying by the day. Fly to LA. Right. He didn't have to fly to LA. It was better to catch those pests in their natural habitats.

And a part of him relished the thrill of being so near and yet, so invisible to the prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse of him.

She whimpered and sobbed pitifully, crying for her daddy and mommy. He wanted to slap her to shut her but was actually a little too tired to do it. Sitting opposite her, he propped his hands up on the table by his elbows and pared an apple disinterestedly. Valerie was dormant in her cage. Maybe tomorrow, Valerie's teeth would be able sink into some meat.