GONE

Tonya found herself in a dark forest. A hidden assailant had cut off her friends’ legs at the knees. Tonya rushed from victim to victim, twisting tourniquets onto their thighs to stop the bleeding. The leafy earth beneath her shoes puddled with blood. She ran but slipped on gore. She felt herself falling backward when someone grabbed her shoulder. She lashed out to save herself from amputation.

“Hey, it’s me! Calm down.”

That didn’t sound like a serial killer. Tonya opened her eyes.

Lynette stood over Tonya’s bed, her hair a golden halo in the morning light.

“Shouldn’t you still be sleeping off Friday night?”

“Roberto’s missing,” said Lynette. “We were supposed to meet yesterday but he isn’t answering texts or calls. The guys on his floor haven’t seen him. Nobody has.”

“Maybe his phone died.” Tonya rubbed her eyes. Things were coming at her too fast. There was something she had to do. Something urgent . . . Oh yeah, she had to stop Man vs. Nature from happening in the cemetery, or a lot of people could end up like Professor Rudolph.

“He should have borrowed a phone and called. I’m worried.”

“He probably had a few drinks and crashed at a friend’s place.” For all she knew, Roberto got tired of Lynette. Tonya had.

“He texted me that he wasn’t feeling well. He was supposed to call when he got home.”

“Lynette, when you were pigging out on candy, did you ever feel the urge to walk to the cemetery?”

“What?”

“Or to go to the Ash Tree?”

“You’re even weirder than I thought.” Lynette spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable. “Roberto is missing.”

“Tell campus police.”

“They said he hasn’t been missing long enough to report. Help me?”

What a choice. She had to help Lynette look for Roberto, but that would leave her less time to stop the art installation. If she refused, Lynette would probably kill her in her sleep.

“You don’t need my help.”

“Please.” Lynette crossed her arms, her pretty face crumpled in a scowl.

“Why don’t you wait and see if he shows up in an hour or two?

“I want to look now.”

Tonya sighed. “Let me throw on some clothes.”

They went to the cafeteria to grab coffee. Students in line gossiped about a fire at the Herbal Healing Shop. Tonya shivered. The shop was full of dangerous items that posed a threat to the ignorant if her aunt wasn’t there to supervise . . . but what if she had been there?

“I still haven’t heard from my aunt and that’s her store.”

“Roberto texted me he was going there last night.” Lynette’s bottom lip trembled.

“I’ll call the hospital to check for Roberto while you drive us to the shop.”

Tonya had Loon Lake Hospital on speed dial. She called on their way out to the parking lot. During the short drive, Tonya waited on hold until a chipper voice answered and told her Roberto wasn’t there.

“You sound familiar. Do I know you?”

“Doubt it, hon. Goodbye!” The connection clicked off.

Minutes later, Lynette drew near the Herbal Healing Shop. Tonya expected a painful repeat of yesterday’s ward incident so she dry-swallowed a couple of aspirins. Her aunt might use magic to repel her, but a headache was physical, right? And painkillers prevented physical pain. That was her theory, anyway. She braced herself as they got close. Even ice pick stabs of pain couldn’t keep her from investigating.

“Did Roberto do any binge eating?”

Lynette hesitated. “I don’t know. He’s an athlete. He eats a lot, all the time.”

Not good. He sounded sick too.

When they pulled into the parking lot, Tonya anticipated knitting-needle-through-the-head agony. They parked near the store, but the pain never came. That worried her even more. Did her aunt have to be nearby to keep up her wards? Tonya didn’t think so. Did she need to be alive?

Lynette opened the car door and ran across the parking lot which was littered with broken glass. She picked up something gray, a fine wool scarf patterned with geometric condors. “This is his!” Lynette held the scarf to her face.

“I’m sure he’s okay.” Tonya came up behind her.

“I’m not.” Lynette slipped the scarf into her pocket.

Tonya put a hand on Lynette’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

Aunt Helen lived above the shop, part of the massive two-story log cabin she had inherited from Tonya’s great-grandparents. It was drafty in the winter, and attracted mice in fall, until Aunt Helen resealed the outside walls and modernized. As a child, Tonya remembered walking through the gutted building, asking her aunt why she didn’t just tear it down and build a new one.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“History,” was all her aunt would say.

Aunt Helen tolerated a filthy building site for months during renovations, despite her obsession for order. Mom always said she should have been a scientist. Before, after, and somehow even during the reno, she kept her counters sterilized like a laboratory.

As they approached, Tonya noticed the window beside the door was shattered. She stepped over a black puddle onto the stoop and pulled away yellow police tape sealing the door.

“Hello? Aunt Helen?” It was as cold inside as out and reeked of smoke. The small foyer where they stood opened into the shop, giving them a clear view of the premises. To Tonya’s immediate left, a door marked “private” stood between her and the staircase up to her aunt’s apartment.

Wind gusted in through the end of the shop, which was punched through, leaving a large, charred hole. The walls were streaked with soot near the floor, but the A-frame roof remained pristine. The countertop, ahead of her and to the left, remained untouched, but the glass case beneath it, and every jar and container inside, seemed to have exploded. This was no natural fire.

Tonya opened the door to the staircase, but a female constable rushed out from the workroom behind the sales counter. “You can’t come in here.” She had mousy hair and pale eyelashes like a child.

“I’m looking for my aunt.”

The woman tilted her head slightly and squinted at Tonya, despite the light streaming in from outside. “You’re Helen’s niece? I didn’t recognize you.”

Without the extra pounds and bulky sweaters. “I remember you. Didn’t you volunteer at the hospital?”

“Not anymore. Constable Purrell.” Her hands stayed on her hips, but she nodded at Lynette and Tonya. “I’m sorry about your aunt. She’s in hospital.”

“What? When?”

“They sent her, after the fire.”

“She was here?” Her parents had lied. Aunt Helen wasn’t away, being treated in Toronto.

“What happened?” Lynette asked.

The constable’s face gained twenty years as she snapped into authority mode. “This is an active investigation. You have to leave.” She moved forward, crowding them.

“What about my boyfriend, Roberto Alvarez? This was where he was going last night, and now he’s disappeared.”

“Your boyfriend must be the guy who called us. Probably saved Helen’s life.” The officer backed them to the door. They lingered in the parking lot.

“Was my Aunt Helen living here or did she just come back last night?”

Purrell shrugged.

Lynette waved her hands in distress. “Is Roberto okay? Where is he?”

Purrell pulled out her phone. “Let me check.” The woman gestured for them to stay outside as she walked back in. Through the broken window, Tonya watched her disappear into Aunt Helen’s workroom.

“Shhh. Stay here.” Tonya slipped back in and crept upstairs. She hoped to find clues in her aunt’s apartment, something to explain why everyone lied about her whereabouts.

At the top of the stairs was the start of the living room, narrow like the workroom below it. Tonya ran her finger across the china hutch. Dustless. A few steps in, the living room opened into the kitchen where the counters gleamed. Either her aunt had been living here recently, or she had found a cleaner as fussy as her.

Tonya decided to check the 1940s Frigidaire which her aunt refused to replace. If it was stocked with fresh produce, it would confirm her aunt never left. She pulled the chrome handle. Inside, the light had burned out, so she swung the door wide, illuminating darkly filled preserve jars, and bowls with lids. No boxes, no store-bought condiments, not even a carton of eggs. Didn’t Aunt Helen eat anything from the grocery store?

She moved aside to let more light in. No aluminum takeout containers. Not even a plate of leftovers.

Tonya fished out a bottle of milk and sniffed it. She poured a bit down the sink to see if it looked sour, but it was fresh. She was replacing the milk, angry with her aunt and her whole family for lying to her, when she saw it. A glass jar filled with smoky fluid and pale, thin, pointing . . . fingers. Ugh! A hand.

Of course her rebel aunt had a hand in a jar.

Heavy boots stormed up the stairs. Tonya grabbed the jar and shoved it deep into the pocket of her coat, hoping nobody would notice the bulge.

“Hey! What are you doing up here?”

Tonya slammed the fridge door shut and scooted out of the kitchen. She recognized Constable Cram, a fleshy local man with a buzz cut. He swaggered across the living room, forcing Tonya to take a step back into the kitchen.

Tonya didn’t know what to do. She needed to dispose of the hand without getting caught, but Cram wasn’t letting her pass. He towered over her, so close she recoiled from his coffee breath.

“Well? What are you doing here?”

“This is my aunt’s place. I’m worried about her.”

“She’s in Loon Lake Hospital, as you probably know. This is a crime scene. I should arrest you for interfering with a police investigation.” He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest.

At times like this, Tonya wished she had her aunt’s gift of persuasion. She’d love to magically send this lunk butterfly hunting.

“Oh my God. You’re that kid.”

He didn’t say “that fat kid,” but Tonya could tell he was thinking it.

Cram stepped back to look her up and down. His eyes rested on her newfound waist and then uncomfortably long on her chest. This was a new sensation for Tonya. She used to feel self-conscious about her chubby belly, but men staring at her chest was worse. She zipped up her coat.

“Can I go?” She stared him down.

He stepped aside to let her take the stairs. Tonya imagined his eyes following her.

Downstairs, she told Constable Purrell. “Your partner’s a creep. He was staring at my chest.”

“How did you get upstairs?” Purrell backed Tonya into the wall.

“This is my aunt’s home.”

“You’re interfering with a crime scene!”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You ignored the sign and the police tape.”

“My aunt and I are really close. She’d want me to check on her apartment.”

Purrell took a step back and pulled out her notepad. “Do you know anything about what happened here?”

“No.”

Purrell handed Tonya her card. “Call and set up an interview. You need to answer some questions.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Not unless you’re hiding something.”

Tonya heard Constable Cram’s heavy steps overhead. He was poking around but at least she’d gotten the hand out of the fridge. They’d better not find anything else.

“Aunt Helen is sick. She’s supposed to be in the hospital in Toronto but yesterday you’re telling me she was here. Looks like you know more about it than me.” She wrote her phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Purrell. “I can’t contact my parents. They sold our house and moved and now they won’t answer their cell phone. Can you help me? They’re missing.”

Tears sprang up in Tonya’s eyes. This fire and their disappearance couldn’t be a coincidence. She massaged her throbbing temples.

As Tonya described the last time she’d seen them, Purrell jotted details in her notebook.

“They told you they were moving?”

“My aunt did.”

“So, it isn’t a surprise they left?”

“I moved into residence in September and then, without saying goodbye, just before Halloween, they were gone.”

“What’s your relationship like with your parents?”

“I love my parents. They would never leave without a goodbye.”

Purrell rubbed a creased brow. “So, why didn’t you report them missing sooner?”

“Their emails said they moved to Toronto, to look after Aunt Helen. I’m worried because I can’t contact them anymore.”

“Hmm.” Purrell snapped the notebook shut. “We’ll be in touch.”

A horn honked outside.

“Your friend is waiting for you.”