Cricket Hunters Read online

  “Thank you, Buelita.”

  Yesenia slid a chair away from the table and had just sat down when someone knocked on the front door. She made her way through the living room with Cel following close behind. When she opened the solid door, a tall man in a dark suit was standing on the other side of the screen door mesh. He appeared middle-aged, fifty tops. Crow’s feet marked the outside corners of his eyes, and wiry gray hair had infiltrated more than half of his scalp and goatee. His deep-set eyes projected a dullness, a surrendering, suggesting to Yesenia that he had experienced enough hardship to carry permanent scars on his heart.

  “Can I help you?” Yesenia asked without opening the screen door.

  He smiled, revealing a gap between his front teeth wide enough to roll a penny through. “Hi. I’m Detective Paul Hart from Oak Mott P.D.” In step with his appearance, his voice sounded seasoned. “Chief Sterling talked to Beverly Lundy about her son Parker’s whereabouts, and I was wondering if I could ask Celia a couple of questions about it.” His eyes moved from Yesenia to Cel. “You’re Celia Lundy, right?”

  Cel nodded. “Cel.”

  Yesenia opened the screen door. “Come on in.”

  Cel sat on the end of the couch nearest the kitchen and held her mug on top of her thighs. Hart pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and sat on the opposite end of the couch. After he politely refused Yesenia’s offer to get him a cup of tea or glass of water, Yesenia twisted the rocking chair she’d inherited from her mom so that it faced the couch, adjusted the seat cushion, and sat down.

  Hart tapped and scrolled on his phone for a moment, then met eyes with Cel. “I understand you told Beverly that you haven’t talked to Parker since yesterday.”

  Cel nodded.

  “Can you tell me when you last saw Parker?”

  “Yesterday morning before he left for work.”

  “And how was he? In good spirits? Sad? Mad?”

  Cel glanced at Yesenia, looked back at Hart. “He was upset.”

  “Why?”

  “We’d had an argument.”

  “About what?”

  Cel took a sip of tea. Yesenia could tell by the look in Cel’s eyes that she was contemplating how to answer. Mulling over whether to lie about Lauren or not. “One of his co-workers. Lauren Page.” Another sip and she set the mug on the coffee table. “And how I don’t like how much time he’s been spending with her.”

  Hart tapped on his phone, scrolled, tapped. “Beverly told us that you and Parker have had physical altercations in the past. Is that correct?”

  Cel nodded.

  “Did yesterday’s argument get physical? On either his part or yours?”

  “No. Just heated words.”

  “What about threats? Did he threaten you? Did you threaten him?”

  “No,” Cel responded harshly. “It was a short argument. I walked out on him and went for a jog, and when I came back, he’d already gone to work.”

  Hart’s eyebrows rose in a sympathetic gesture, and he held his hand out as though he could calm the frustrated vibes wafting off of Cel. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just need to know everything I can about Parker’s recent mindset in order to better our odds at finding him.” He tapped on his phone again. “Has he ever been treated for depression or tried to hurt himself or anything like that?”

  “Never. He’s not the type to do anything like that.”

  Yesenia’s eyelids fluttered at the mention of suicide. She clasped her hands together on her lap. She looked down and to the side as an unwanted image of Cel lying face-down on the living room floor in front of the same couch she was now sitting on popped into her mind.

  Parker wasn’t the type. But Cel was.

  The day after her fourth miscarriage last July, Cel had shown up at Yesenia’s with a bag of clothes and toiletries in tow because she “couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in Parker’s eyes anymore.” That night, after hours of talking and hugging and crying, Cel had taken a handful of sleeping pills and valium when Yesenia dozed off. By the grace of the Source, Yesenia had woken and discovered Cel unresponsive on the floor in front of the couch before it was too late. Two empty pill bottles were on the floor beside her. Yesenia yelled and shook and slapped Cel. She spat out frantic healing spells. She ran to the kitchen, ran back. She propped Cel upright, tilted her head back, and forced a concoction down her throat. Then she held Cel’s head at an angle so the bile and water and pills wouldn’t choke her. After struggling to hoist Cel onto the couch and cleaning up the mess, Yesenia put a pillow under her granddaughter’s head, a quilt over her body, and slept sitting upright at her feet. When Cel woke the following afternoon, she gave Yesenia an embarrassed, eyes down apology, and they’d never spoken of it since.

  Though the experience had terrified Yesenia, deep down, she hadn’t been surprised. Cel had gone through a cutting phase in her teens, and had periodically experienced bouts of depression over the years where she would shut herself off from the world for extended periods of time. Yesenia had always tried to help Cel through these sad stints the best way she knew how, with love and potions, spells and rituals. But Rebecca had been in a spiritually bad way and self-destructive herself when carrying Cel. And although Yesenia had shielded Cel from that truth the best she could, she knew she would never be able to remove the dark imprint Rebecca had left on Cel’s soul while Cel had grown in her womb and they’d shared tainted blood.

  “Does he have any medical conditions like diabetes? Or is he on any medications?”

  “He takes medicine for high blood pressure, but that’s it. It runs in his family.”

  Hart positioned his phone where he could use both thumbs and smiled a half-smile. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m still not very good at taking notes on cell phones like Sterling wants us to. He says it’ll make it where we can share information quicker. I don’t know. I’m a pen and paper man myself.” He typed for a few more seconds then looked up. “Okay. What about alcohol or illicit drugs? Parker do anything like that?”

  “He’ll have an occasional beer at Whiskey River or something, and he smoked a little pot when he was younger, but nothing major.”

  “And how are you guys’ finances? Any troubles?”

  “No. I quit my job at the Activity Center after my…earlier this summer, but we’re fine. We’re not in debt or behind on our mortgage or anything like that.”

  “Good.” Hart finished entering notes into his phone and slid it back into his pocket. Sizing up Cel with his dull, deep set eyes, he stroked his goatee twice. “Now, this may come off as harsh, but I have to ask it. Did you have anything to do with his disappearance?”

  Cel held his gaze. “No. Of course not.”

  “I read in a report filed eight years ago that Josh Teague said you paid him to kick Parker’s ass because Parker was cheating on you. Is that true?”

  Cel’s ears flushed. Her lips curled inward. “If you read the entire report then you know it’s not.”

  Hart raised a defensive hand again. “Calm down. I’m not accusing you.”

  “Josh Teague was shit-faced drunk that night when Parker walked into The Pub. Had I been flirting with him? Yes. Did I drink a little too much and say some horrible things about Parker? Yes. But I didn’t pay him or encourage him to do shit. After he was arrested, Josh tried to say any and everything he could to get out of that assault charge. Josh is a lying asshole.”

  “I hear you,” Hart said. “I understand.”

  Cheeks puffed, Cel pushed out a loud, deep breath. As if attempting to expel a pocket of cursed air from her lungs. Tears formed in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened to him. It scares me. I want to know where he is, too.”

  Hart reached across the cushion separating them and patted her knee. “More times than not people show up in a day or two at a hotel or in a nearby city because they just needed a breather. There’s no evidence anything bad has happened to him, okay?”

  Cel sniffled, nodded.

  �
��Nowadays people can’t go far without leaving a technological footprint. I’m sure we’ll find him soon.” Hart stood, pulled his phone out and scrolled. “He drives a 2008 red Toyota Camry, right?”

  Cel nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay.” He put his phone away and offered his hand to Yesenia. “Ma’am.” She shook it, and he faced Cel. “I’m going to head over to the school to talk with his co-workers. They confirmed he showed up for work yesterday, so they might have some pertinent information. The quicker I get it the better.” He tenderly touched Cel’s shoulder, as though she were made of brittle glass. “Stay strong. I’ll be in touch.”

  Yesenia followed Hart to the door and closed it behind him. When she returned to the couch, Cel placed her head on Yesenia’s shoulder again, and Yesenia wrapped her arm around Cel. Yesenia’s aged instincts told her this situation wouldn’t end well. Tiempos oscuros were coming. A dark stint. She needed to stay vigilant for Cel’s sake. She would prepare the spiritual rejuvenation ritual for this weekend. It had been nearly a year since she last performed one on herself.

  Chapter 15 - Cel

  Cel stayed on the couch only about five or ten minutes after Detective Hart left, long enough to finish her yerba buena tea and come up with a half-truth to tell Yesenia. After assuring Yesenia she felt better after talking with Hart, she claimed she thought a routine jog through Woodway Park would help quell her remaining anxiety, clear her mind. Which wasn’t an outright lie. Jogs provided excellent stress relief for Cel on most days. But she had no intention of going to Woodway Park and jogging today.

  She waved to Yesenia who watched her drive away from behind the screen door and then headed straight for the Grandview Apartment complex. She hadn’t lied to Parker when he’d offered her Lauren’s key from his wallet the previous morning. Taking the key wouldn’t serve a purpose on her end. She already had one. She’d lifted the one from Parker’s wallet two weeks earlier and had a copy made at Lowe’s. Not for malicious purposes. Out of desperation, really. She had needed some of Lauren’s hair in order to place a blocking spell on her, and also perform a small ritual to help keep Parker from entering Lauren’s apartment, particularly lying in her bed. She’d hidden the key in the Envoy driver’s manual in the glovebox.

  Rather than parking in the complex lot, she parked on the side of Shipley Do-Nuts half a block away. She retrieved the key and the pair of gray cotton gloves she kept in a bag in the backseat along with a spare jacket and hat. She put them in her jean pockets and made her way toward Grandview.

  Bright midday sunlight dominated a clear sky, but a chilly northern breeze lessened its effect on the temperature. Cel ducked her head into the wind, her hair flapping around her skull, and marched with a purpose down the alley behind Shipley’s, following the wooden fence bordering the complex until she reached the backside of building 14. After peeking through the slats to make sure no one was out on a deck smoking or walking their dog in the sectioned-off dog area, she hopped the fence and hurried upstairs to apartment 212.

  At the door, she slid on the gloves and whispered a protection spell. Lauren’s Jeep had been at the middle school when Cel had driven by this morning, and now she was probably chatting with Detective Hart about Parker. Cel should have time to go in, remove the evidence under the bed, and get out without detection. Though unlikely, if the cops happened to search Lauren’s apartment, Cel didn’t want to be linked to it in any way. It would leave the wrong impression. She’d been honest with Hart about her and Parker’s argument about Lauren because the longer Parker remained missing, the more Hart would dig and eventually learn the truth. If Cel had lied to him, any suspicion he might have about her involvement in Parker’s disappearance would double. And if later he somehow found out she’d broken into Lauren’s apartment and performed a ritual—a ritual he and the other officers would probably assume was threatening in nature, or possibly even satanic thanks to Beverly Lundy’s lips being so close to Chief Sterling’s ears—the suspicion would triple. Unfound suspicion. She’d watched enough ID Channel to know that any added suspicion would focus Hart’s attention on her and slow his efforts to find Parker. She didn’t want that to happen.

  She slipped into the apartment and headed straight for Lauren’s bedroom. The unmade queen-sized bed took up seventy percent of the one-window room. A smattering of papers and notebooks, pens and pencils covered half of the rumpled pink sheets and much of the floor. Cel lay down on her belly, reached under the head of the bed and grabbed the bound doll she’d placed behind Lauren’s empty shoe boxes. Made from remnants of Cel’s old white Metallica T-shirt and stuffed with Mila’s fur and Lauren’s hair, the four-inch doll had no features other than crude eyes and a mouth painted on with Cel’s blood. Strands of Cel’s hair were tied around its genitals, eyes, and mouth. With a swipe of her hand, she scattered the small circle of salt she’d placed around the doll, jumped up, and had taken two steps toward the door when writing on a piece of paper on the floor at the foot of the bed caught her eye. Parker’s handwriting. She’d recognize his print anywhere. He wrote in all caps, block letters, sloppy sizes. Always had. She shoved the doll in her front pocket and picked up the half sheet of paper. The note was short.

  MISS LAUREN LOU,

  Lauren Lou? Really? A nickname?

  I JUST WANTED TO SAY THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME MEET SAMMY LAST WEEK. YOU’RE VERY LUCKY.

  A boyfriend?

  HE’S MAGNIFICENT.

  ???

  IT WOULD BE A DREAM COME TRUE TO HAVE A SON LIKE HIM SOMEDAY.

  A kid? Lauren’s a mom?

  I’M GRATEFUL TO HAVE YOU IN MY LIFE.

  PARKER

  Cel squatted and ruffled through the other papers, but only found spelling tests and vocabulary worksheets, a grocery list and countless blank pages. She dropped Parker’s note. Her head was buzzing as though a beehive had been rattled inside her skull, its occupants furious for answers. So many questions were flying around in there she couldn’t focus on any single one. She felt betrayed, jealous, inadequate. In a swirl of adrenaline and emotion, she marched out of the apartment, mindful to lock the door behind her. She slid off the gloves and put them and the key in her back pocket as she descended the stairs. She rounded the building at a brisk pace but was forced to abruptly stop when she almost slammed into Lauren who had her cell phone in one hand, keys and the sack lunch she normally would’ve consumed in Parker’s classroom in the other.

  They met eyes, their mutual dismay instantly generating an electricity all its own. In contrast to Lauren whose raised brows and gasp betrayed her shock, Cel’s face remained stoic despite the chill running up her spine, causing her arm hairs to stand on end. How could she have been so careless? She’d never considered the possibility Lauren might come home for lunch.

  “What are you doing here?” Lauren eventually asked.

  “I wanted to know if Parker was here.”

  “Why do you think he’d be over here?”

  Why do you think, you fucking whore? Cel wanted to scream. Instead, she fought back the urge and played as nice as her ramped up emotions allowed. “Well, he didn’t come home after work yesterday and won’t return my calls or texts.” She put her hand on her hip. “And since I know you and he call and text every other second, and you gave him a key to your apartment, I didn’t think it was too far-fetched that he’d be over here.”

  Lauren hesitated. Just like Parker had hesitated the previous morning. When she finally spoke, she did so with an air of nervousness. “It’s not like that.”

  Realizing she had caught Lauren off-guard, Cel pushed harder. “What’s it like, then? Because it seems to me you and him have developed a relationship way beyond mentor and mentee.”

  “We’re friends. That’s it.”

  Cel gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Hmmm. That’s funny. That’s exactly what he said.” She put her finger on the side of her lips in an exaggerated inquisitive gesture. “I bet next you’ll say it’s coincidence you two go to the sam
e gym now, too. And that it’s just work related when you eat lunch in his room every day. And, that the reason you gave him your apartment key was to simply…Feed. Your. Fish.”

  Lauren lightly shook her head. “He warned me that you would do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Freak out.”

  “You think it’s freaking out for a faithful wife to want to know what her husband is doing behind her back?”

  Sweat glistened on Lauren’s upper lip and in the hollow of her neck. She appeared more scared than nervous now. “Listen, I know you’ve had a rough time since…this summer. But—”

  “This summer? He talked to you about my miscarriage?” Cel tapped the center of her chest one solid time to emphasize the word “my.”

  “You know what? I don’t need this right now,” Lauren said. She tried to side-step Cel, but Cel mirrored her. “Move.”

  “No. Not until you tell me the truth. Do you know where he is?” A tense, brief pause. “Are you fucking him?”

  “I already told the cops everything I know. Now get out of my way.”

  Lauren tried to move around Cel again, but Cel blocked her by sticking out her hands. “You owe me answers!”

  “I don’t owe you anything,” Lauren said, her volume escalating to match Cel’s. She held her phone up close to Cel’s face and jiggled it as though Cel had never seen one and didn’t know its purpose. “And if you don’t move, I’m calling 911.”

  Cel grabbed Lauren’s wrist, and after she shoved the phone away from her face, she realized they had a small audience. Not good. An elderly couple with their pants hiked too high and their shirts tucked too deep was standing on the sidewalk about five yards behind Lauren, holding hands and watching them. In the parking lot ten yards behind the couple, a woman wearing huge sunglasses and sitting in the driver’s seat of a gray F-150 was also staring their direction. On the sidewalk ten yards from the truck, a kid about five years old on a Big Wheel stared their way.