Lost Girls of Kato, page 12
From the muscular planes of the model’s back, there’s no questioning the man’s identity.
It’s Theo’s angel.
I close the door to my bedroom and call the number on her page to book an appointment.
15
JACKIE - 1986
The crisp October air seeps through my sweatshirt as I push my bike a little faster toward J.R.’s house on the hill. Fallen leaves of red and gold crunch beneath my tires, and the woodsy scent of burning leaves surrounds me like a warm hug. It won’t be long before snow begins to fall, forcing me to ditch my bike and walk in ugly red and white moon boots that give me blisters once I wear the thickest pair of socks I own.
Halloween is only a week away, but for the first time in my life I’m not concerned with Trick-or-Treating, or finding a costume at the secondhand store. With Becky, Shannon, and Heidi still missing, I doubt the adults in charge of the city would let us go without our parents this year anyway. And I’m sure J.R. would think dressing up was for babies since he’s in high school.
I hold my breath as I walk my bike around to the backside of the house, glad to at least find the garage door open and no car inside. J.R.’s window is closed and is covered by a navy blue curtain. I press my ear against the windowpane, expecting to hear the robotic sounds of video games or maybe one of his dad’s electropop records. It’s dead silent. I shift my weight back and forth, trying to decide whether I should leave or wait to hear some kind of noise. I would hate to wake him if he’s resting. I also don’t want him to know I’m here if he happens to be crying like the last time I stood outside his window.
The curtains all at once part. I let out a little squeak of surprise when J.R. frowns back at me through the window, his dark sweat pants and oversized t-shirt wrinkled. I’m glad to see for myself that he’s where I thought he would be and he’s alive, but he’s cradling his torso with his good hand, dark shadows lurk beneath his eyes, and he’s as white as a ghost. When he reaches out to tug the window open, I don’t miss the way he winces.
Confusing emotions bubble up inside my stomach. I want to both hug J.R. and yell at him for making that stupid call because Diane made him. I want to hurt his dad for doing this to him. I want to run through the neighborhood, asking any other adult I can find for help.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasps in a way that makes the hairs on my neck stand straight.
“What’s wrong with your voice?”
“Nothing,” he grumbles. “Go home, Jackie.”
Fat tears of anger and sadness blur my vision when I notice the angry red lines along his neck. “What did he do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. If he catches me talking to you he’ll do worse.”
“You can’t stay here with him, J.R. What if next time he—”
His eyes briefly close. “I know. I’m running away.”
Pain sharper than knives stabs at my stomach. I don’t want him to leave. How will he take care of himself? I also don’t want him to have to live in fear of his dad any longer. “You’re only fourteen. Where will you go? How will you buy food? What about school?”
“I told you, I’ve been saving up. But I don’t have a plan yet, and I don’t really care. Just as long as I never have to see my old man another day for as long as I live.”
“What about your mom?”
“I don’t know how to find her. After she left, I have no idea where she went. She didn’t have much of a family…just some distant relatives somewhere out West. She might’ve stayed in Ohio where we lived before my old man brought us back here, but I wouldn’t know how to get ahold of her. Besides, she doesn’t care about me any more than your mom cares about you and Diane.”
His words sting like a million little bees. But he’s right. Our parents don’t care about us. “Maybe someone here in Kato could help you find a better way to leave, like Pastor Babel or one of your teachers.”
“I told you, that pastor is creepy as hell. I wouldn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him. And you remember how your jerk teacher treated me. Just because they were hired to teach kids doesn’t make teachers good people, Jackie.”
At this point I feel the overwhelming need to grab him through the window and never let him go. I swipe the damp corners of my eyes and attempt to calm my tight breaths. “There has to be another way, J.R. What if you hide at my place for a while until you come up with a plan? My mom would never know you’re there. She never really knows whether or not Diane and I are—”
He reaches through the window, wrapping his hand around my wrist and shaking his head. “Jackie, stop. When I leave here, I have to get as far away as possible, and fast. It’s my old man’s job to track down missing people. I know he’s doing a shit job of finding Becky and the others, but I think it’s because they’re dead and someone did a really good job of hiding their bodies. It’s easier to track down someone who’s alive and interacting with other people.”
I wince with my eyes closed, sending a trickle of tears spilling down my cheeks. “You think Becky’s dead?”
“I’m sorry,” he says in a gentle voice. “I know she was your friend, but they would’ve found her by now if she was still alive.”
“Becky’s dad did it,” I tell him. “They arrested him right before I left the trailer park.”
He blows out a long breath. “Jackie, that’s not—”
The slam of a door echoes through the house behind him. I gasp and J.R. pushes hard on my arm.
“Shit, he’s home!” he frantically whispers, eyes wild. “You have to go, Jackie! Now! Meet me tonight at ten—at our spot by the park!”
As he begins to close the window, I want to beg him to change his mind and stay with me. Then I hear the deep roll of his father’s voice calling his name, and I’m afraid standing here any longer will only get him into more trouble.
The bitter cold stabs my hands with pins and needles as I race away from J.R.’s house with fat tears streaming down my cheeks. The snot in my nose feels like balls of ice cubes when I bike through the quiet neighborhoods of fancy houses. It’s also becoming dark, long after I’m supposed to be out alone. Every few minutes I glance over my shoulder, waiting for the same boogey man to come for me that came for Becky. Even worse yet, I fear I’ll find J.R.’s dad.
My front bike tire hits something with a jarring thud. The rear end of my bike becomes airborne, flipping me off my seat and sending me down to the ground. I land hard on my hands and knees, skinning the palms of my hands on the concrete curb.
Bawling like a little baby, I kick my bike frame and plop my butt onto the curb, tucking my head behind my knees to hide my wet face.
If J.R. really leaves, I’ll never see him again. If he stays, he might die.
He’s the first friend I’ve ever had who stuck up for me and always wanted to hang out. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him either. What’s left here for me once he’s gone? It’s not fair that J.R. and I are forced to live this way—with parents who probably all wish we’d never been born. I bet it would take my mom a whole month before she realized I was missing.
Why couldn’t I have been born into a nice family, to the kind of parents that love their children and go to their school conferences?
I don’t remember the last time I saw my mom. Part of me wishes she’d just go away forever.
With the sound of an oncoming car, I wipe my tears away on the backs of my hands.
“Jackie Tanner?”
Pastor Babel leans out the driver’s window of a newer blue car with four doors. His eyes shine with worry. “Are you okay?”
I quickly look away, worried his kindness will make me cry again. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Why are you out so late by yourself, Jackie? The curfew starts soon.”
“I wasn’t by myself. I was with my sister.” I get the feeling he didn’t like J.R., so I purposely don’t mention where I’ve been. “She was a few blocks ahead of me.”
I glance back at him in time to see his lips pull tight. “Neither of you girls should be out this late.” He shifts the car into park. “Why don’t you put your bike on the lawn, and I’ll give you a ride home? You can retrieve your bike in the morning.”
“Someone will steal it if I leave it here,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’ll be okay, Pastor. I can walk it the rest of the way home.”
“Why were you crying, Jackie?” he asks in a softer voice. “Is everything okay at home? I may not be your minister, but you can talk to me in confidence. No one would have to know.”
I want to tell him about J.R.’s dad, but J.R. would be mad at me. And what if the police didn’t believe J.R.’s dad is really hurting him? What if they decide since he works for the police, J.R. must be lying?
Once I remember all the things J.R. said about Pastor Babel, I suddenly can’t get away from him fast enough. “I have to go,” I tell him, collecting my bike. I hook my leg over it and race away like the devil is chasing me.
Later, the park feels alive as I bike down the familiar path of tall grass with a narrow sliver of moonlight marking my way. I’ve never come here alone this late at night. Somewhere above me an owl hoots and dark birds dart through the sky—possibly bats. Fear stabs my stomach as I come across “our spot” by the river. I’ve never seen the water glow the way it does now. Everything about being here is scary.
I lean my bike up against a tree and sit on the bank. As many minutes pass, I begin to worry. Why is J.R. late? Did his dad catch onto his plan? I don’t own a watch, so I don’t have any idea of the time. Maybe I biked faster than usual because I was afraid. Maybe it’s still early.
The sudden rustle of grass behind me sends my heart into my throat. I turn around to find J.R. stomping toward me, his backpack hanging from one shoulder.
“Why are you so late?” I halfway yell. “You scared me!”
He shoves his hands into his jeans and looks down at his sneakers. “Sorry.”
“I thought about the things you said earlier, and I’ve decided I’m running away with you.” I point to the paper grocery bag hanging from my bike’s handlebar, filled with a few changes of clothes and the only things from home that mean something to me—the picture I painted of this spot, and the Polaroid Diane took of me and J.R. that day in my room. “You were right. My mom doesn’t care about me.”
His dark eyes harden on mine. “You aren’t going anywhere, Jackie! Don’t be stupid!”
He’s never talked to me in that mean of a voice. I hate it. Suddenly, I hate him. I let my hair fall around my face so he won’t see the tears that rush down my face.
On a lough sigh he sits beside me, rubbing circles against my back. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You’re not stupid. But you can’t run away. Your mom might not care if you leave, but Diane will. She loves you. I know you don’t see it, but I do.” He gathers my hair and tucks it behind my shoulder so I can see his dimpled smile. “You’re lucky you have a sister like her. I’d give anything to have an older brother. At least then I’d have someone to run away with.”
I turn to him, flinging my arms around his neck and burying my wet face against his chest. “You can’t run away by yourself! What if I never see you again?”
“I’ll be okay,” he promises, wrapping me in his arms. “I promise I’ll come back here some day to check on you. At least I won’t have to worry, because at least your mom keeps you fed and doesn’t hurt you. Whatever life throw at you while I’m gone, you’ll survive it, Jackie. All this crap you’re going through will make you a strong woman one day, like Sarah Connor in Terminator. You’ll see.”
I try really hard to control my trembling lips. “When are you leaving?”
“Now…after I leave here.”
My heart gallops so hard I think it might shoot from my chest. “What?” I pull away from him and frown. “In the dark?”
“A train comes through downtown every night at ten thirty. I figure it’ll get me away from here the fastest without anyone noticing. The boxcars will be warm and dry. My old man once told me that’s how bums from the Midwest travel to warmer places.”
“What if you trip and fall onto the track? What if the bums don’t like you on there with them? What if—”
I’m silenced by the press of his cold lips over mine. A brief, warm rush of the best kind of happiness washes over me, making my heart pound a little harder. I’ve been wishing forever for this.
But I shove him away.
I hate him for choosing this moment to finally kiss me.
I hate him for leaving without me.
I jump to my feet and dash over to my bike.
“Jackie, wait!” he pleads. “Don’t leave like this!”
As I pedal away, he yells my name louder, panting.
He’s running after me.
I bike away as fast as I can until I can no longer hear his voice. It’s almost impossible to see anything through the rush of fat tears when I make my way through the trail of tall grass and onto the gravel road.
A tall, dark shadow of a man steps out in front of me.
My bike tire wobbles beneath my trembling hands.
Maybe it’s not a man after all, I decide with a harsh shiver running down my back. Maybe it’s a demon like Becky’s dad said.
16
STERLING - 2018
With the whirl of my coffee maker, I rouse to the land of the living early on Friday morning.
Theo’s sound asleep at my side, spread out on his stomach. The tattoo of the angel stretched across his back taunts me—a reminder of all the things unknown about him.
As the details of my latest dream in the night slowly begin to return, I dust my fingertips over the angel’s beautiful face and my heart thuds with urgency. Since moving here, I’ve relived the same scenario of the girl and boy arguing about him running away on an endless loop, but my dreams never went beyond their fight.
Until now.
Who was on that gravel road? What happened to her?
And why do I get the feeling she was in the same park where I fainted?
In the idyllic heart of downtown White Bear Lake where there doesn’t appear to be a shortage of charming boutiques or trendy restaurants, I enter a brick building with up-to-date furnishings and a stylish atmosphere featuring a clean black and white design. Tattoo artists in half a dozen booths surround the perimeter of the open space with quirky decor in various style hung from floor to ceiling. The hard beat of heavy rock only slightly mutes the buzz of tattoo guns and the din of customers conversing with their artists. Puffs of smoke from an electric defuser in the waiting area floods the building with the pleasant scent of lavender.
A female receptionist perched behind a sleek white desk greets me, her smile blindingly white. “Hi, there. Do you have an appointment?”
“Yeah, with K.C.,” I tell her, all at once incredibly nervous. I haven’t sat down for a tattoo in over a decade. What if my tolerance has weakened?
“Sterling?” a deep female voice asks from behind me. When I turn, I almost completely lose the nerve needed to execute my plan. In person, K.C. has the aura of a supermodel with porcelain skin revealing only the slight presence of wrinkles that attest to her decade or more on me, wide eyes painted with dark eyeliner, and full, velvety lips stained cherry red. Even her not too slender, not too muscular figure is something most women spend their entire lives trying to achieve. I admire her simple black dress reminiscent of the 50s, and dark pin-up curls framing her face. “I’m K.C.” Her smile rivals the brilliance of a shooting star when she hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “My booth is over this way.”
As I follow her to a corner containing a stool on wheels, a square desk attached to the wall, and a leather reclining bed, the rough edges of panic begin to sharpen. I’m not always the best at lying. If she were to discover my true intentions, she might tell Theo, and that could potentially ruin the trust I’ve built with him. The part of my brain known for talking me out of less intelligent situations pleads me to abort the mission. My reckless side reminds me I drove a long way and had to lie about being sick to get the Friday morning off.
K.C. points to the chair. “Go ahead and have a seat, Sterling. I’m normally booked four to five months out, but someone canceled right before you called….it was kismet, I guess.” While I’m reluctantly lowering to the edge of the chair, she crosses her arms beneath her large chest and eyes me up. “My receptionist mentioned you were thinking of getting a set of palm trees on the inside of your forearm, around two inches in height?”
“I want to pay homage to my home state,” I say, feeling somewhat relieved than I can at least say something truthful. I hadn’t bothered asking my supervisor about the office policies when I was hired because I hadn’t planned on getting anything in the near future. At least I could easily cover something on my arm with a 3/4 sleeved shirt.
“Florida?” she asks.
“California.”
“Ah…a Cali girl.” Her cherry red lips pucker with a smirk. “What brings you to White Bear Lake?”
“Actually, I was just in town visiting a friend.” I pause, watching her reaction as I add, “I recently moved to Mankato.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then snap it back shut before her eyes drift down to my arms. “Show me exactly where you want them and I’ll sketch something up.”
I point to the crook of my right arm. “Somewhere around here would be great.”
“Perfect. Do you want black or color? Solid or an outline?”
“Black outlines,” I decide.
With a nod, she perches on a backless stool and begins to sketch onto a wired sketchpad.
“I was looking through your portfolio last night,” I tell her. “I absolutely loved the detailed angel you did on that guy’s back. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” It’s another non-lie, but I only think that because it’s on Theo’s sculpted body.
