Seeing Their End — Chapter 17 and 18 (#NaNoWriMo Draft)
I start my car and begin to drive back to the house. The events of this evening have me rattled. To an extent, I should be intrigued by this new information. It shows that there is a way out of this curse, and that there are certainly practical steps involved. But on the other hand — can I believe what it says? I don’t really have any choice — I’ve got to see this through. Even with all this considered, something else is gnawing at the back of my mind. As it concerns Kaley, I’ve had as little information as with anybody. All I know about how she is going to die is me. My name. No details on how I would go about killing her.
The inscription says that if I sacrifice myself, I can save her, which would go right in line with what my father said about my Uncle. But he described my uncle as a drinker and a smoker, but not really how he died. Was it due to overindulging? Did he see what would happen to my father? Maybe he was the one who would kill my dad. It could have been a drunk driving accident, or some kind of neglect due to being high. Trying to piece this together with so few details is frustrating.
And when it comes to Kaley, not knowing how she will die is a bore hole in the back of my brain. Even though this saying makes it seem like sacrificing myself is the only way to save her, that could be the thing that results in her death. I must proceed carefully. Maybe being close to her would be the best thing for us. Maybe Taylor can help — lock us up for a day, safe and under supervision. But then again, every other time I’ve tried to intervene, it hasn’t helped. Except for with Sarah and Greg. They are both, as far as I know, still alive. What changed? The inscription doesn’t say anything about…
Wait. a thought just dawned on me. What if getting close to my pair is what weakened the power of my affliction? A renewed fire rages inside of me. I must have been close to my pair! I still don’t know what that means — do they have the same affliction as me, or do they have something else going on? That must be what happened. I must have been close. I try piecing back the events of the past few days. Who did I meet or run in to (if it even is someone I’ve met)?
Woke up — there was my cat. Couldn’t be my cat — I’ve had her two years and nothing’s changed.
Got to Lambeau — was immediately met by Taylor and her partner. It could definitely be one of those two — it was at that moment that Sarah jumped.
I was around quite a few people at the police station.
I was with Greg and his “partner” (I’m really not sure if he was at this point or not.)
Could it be? Could Taylor be the one that is my pair? It is late in the evening, but I dial her number. I have to talk to her now.
Ringing. Ringing. Ringing.
A voicemail bellows from the other end — it is different now:
“You have reached the personal phone of Detective Ryan Pladsen. If this is a case report, please call the police office at 555–920–1111. Thank you”
The phone beeps. I’m caught off guard. I quickly hang up.
What is happening? Where is Taylor? My tumultuous evening of emotions has reached a fever pitch. Feeling like the events are moving faster and slower at the same time is making me sick to my stomach. I need to pull the car over and think. As soon as my car comes to stop, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and control my breathing. Calm down, and focus. This is a pivotal moment.
What is my next move? The idea of finding my pair is consuming me — I have to figure this out. I decided I need to call the police department in Green Bay and find out more details. If Taylor is gone for some reason (although this seems unusual fast) they will be able to tell me what is happening.
I barely have signal, but enough to make the call. Hopefully it is strong enough to keep me connected throughout.
After reaching an automated operator, I am asked to choose the number that best describes my circumstance. One — talk to an officer to report a crime (No). Two — ask about services provided by the police department (No) Three — receive an update about an action (Okay, I guess I’ll try this one). I press three, and am immediately put on hold. How ironic.
After a few moments, a voice emerges from the other end.
“Green Bay Police Department, this is Officer Adams, how may I help you?”
“Hello, my name is Lyle, and I was there earlier today. I met with an Officer Jensen. Taylor Jensen. I need to speak with her about something very important. Is she there?”
I’m not prepared for what he has to say.
“Lyle, I’m sorry, but you must be confused. You couldn’t have met with an Officer Jensen this morning. We don’t have an Officer Jensen on staff. Could the last name have been different?”
I sit there, staring off into space, tears welling up in my eyes and a pit in my stomach. Just as my life and my elixir seemed plausible, this happens. My brain is not equipped to handle this. I try and think through the last two days logically. It really can’t be. My concern for Kaley is swept away. Now, there is only one issue on the front of my mind.
What happened to Officer Jensen???
Chapter 18
Once I’m back to the house, I try and sleep, but I only catch a few minutes here and there. I kept trying to play back everything that has happened. If Officer Jensen never worked for the Green Bay Police Department, what about all the events she was involved in? She was with four other officers at the stadium. She drove the police car back to the station. She had a desk with her name placard on it. I called and talked to her multiple times over the course of the day, with another police officer fielding a call from her. She is real. She exists. I couldn’t have made all of that up.
Just when I think I’m close to what this might mean, I drift away.
It’s dark and cold. I’m driving in my car. Kaley is next to me in the passenger seat. We are barreling down the interstate at 90 miles an hour in wet conditions. She is screaming at me to stop. I don’t hear her. I just keep on flying down the highway.
I see lights in the rear view mirror — not cop lights though, but extremely bright headlights, larger than most. There are some on vehicles behind me on the road, but there are others in the sky. It is clear that I am being chased by someone, somehow.
We keep our pace down the highway, maxing out the speed on the car and flying precariously through the night. Why I won’t slow down the car I don’t know. Kaley is crying and pleading with me to stop. I swerve to catch an offramp, and apply the brakes to slow down towards the light. It turns red, but I don’t care. I zoom through the intersection, narrowly missing passing cars as I swerve onto a new road. The wet ground forces my car to slide, coming dangerously close to slamming against the concrete supports for the highway overhead.
We continue, with the noise of the car and the crying and the weather. It is all flying so fast. As I fly through another intersection, I look just to my right in time to see bright headlights connect with the passenger side of my car, obliterating everything.
I shoot awake, sitting up straight, soaking in sweat. Another crazy dream.
Once it seems like an acceptable hour to climb out of bed, I do so. I begin pacing the house. It was so clear what my next move was. Now I’m not so sure. I decided to call Taylor’s number again, just to make sure I wasn’t imagining things. Ringing. Ringing. Rin…
“Hello, this is Detective Pladsen, who am I speaking to?”. His voice is clean. Sounds young.
I stammer over my reply — I didn’t actually expect to get a person.
“Oh, hello. My name is Lyle. I was actually just at your station yesterday and wanted an update on a situation I was involved in.” Better stay focused. We need to get some information.
“Sure — if the police report is filed under your name, we can keep you up to date on any progress. What is your last name Lyle?”
“Baudner. Lyle Baudner. I was involved in a false imprisonment with a man named Greg Haswell.”
“Sure. Let me look up active police cases at the moment and see if there are any updates I can provide you. Give me just a few minutes.”
I take a seat on the couch in the living room. Minutes seem like hours, waiting for some kind of update. One would imagine they would notify me of any updates. But that isn’t the point of my conversation. I need to find something out about Taylor. And that means I’ve got to get this guy on my side. There is some rustling, then a voice on the other side. It is Detective Pladsen.
“Wow, Lyle. It seems like you went through quite the ordeal. Are you doing okay now?”
“Yeah, I think so. I had a lot of help from an officer named Taylor Jensen. Do you know her?”
“No sir, I do not. Then again I just arrived on transfer today. Was actually kind of funny now that I think about it. Well, sorry, I didn’t mean to waste your time. Let me get back on point here. It looks like there haven’t been any updates on this situation. I promise I’ll do what I can to get this guy for you.”
Weird. He was just transferred in today, and the entire department has amnesia about a former employee. This is getting weird. Like everything, there must be a reason. There is a reason I can see when people die. There is a reason I survived the attack by Greg. There has to be a reason for what happened to Taylor.
“Lyle, are you there?” I must have been lost in my thoughts for longer than it seemed.
“Oh, yes. Sorry. Was just thinking about Officer Jensen. This was actually her number, and to be honest, I was trying to call her. Could you see if she left another number there?”
He responds joyfully. I like this guy. He seems willing to help. Good, since I’ll need all I can get to get through this. “Yeah, Lyle. I can do that for you. Let me check around and see if I can find something. Just hang on the line, I’m going to look for her in the database here. If I find her I won’t be able to give you her number, but I will let her know you called”
I hear some clicking and some clacking. After a few moments, Detective Pladsen speaks again.
“Hmm. This is interesting. I’m not finding an Officer Jensen in the employee records here. Are you sure you aren’t misremembering the name?
Bummer. This is all so strange. Why would she just disappear? And better yet, if this had something to do with me, why is the record of my interaction with Greg still on file? My mind is trying to piece things together. Maybe this doesn’t have to do with me. It might just have to do with Taylor and something she did. I decide not to let on about anything else. Detective Pladsen seems to be on my side, as for right now, and I want to keep him there.
“That could be Detective. It was quite a long ordeal I went through and I hadn’t known her for very long. I wish I could remember the name, really.”
He replies in a strange, questioning tone. “Let me dig a little deeper here. Maybe she was transferred out to make room for me? I could go ask someone else quick.”
I’m quick to stop him. If I need his help, I need it from just him. “No no. Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to take up anymore of your time. Please let me know as soon as you have an update on Greg.”
“No problem Lyle. I hope we can say we have this wrapped up soon so you can come home.”
Yeah. Home. I haven’t been gone more than 24 hours, but I want to go back. I want to see Kaley. I want to see Taylor. I wish I would have just accepted my place in life and what I am and what is wrong with me. Now, both couldn’t seem further away. Taylor might be the pair Thomas’ grave referred to, but I’ll need to find her to find out. If we are somehow connected, maybe there is a way we can communicate, some kind of history between us that can help me figure out what happened to her. At least, a different feeling is consuming me. I’m worried about Taylor now.
I decide I need to take a walk and try and clear my head, and think through the puzzle pieces floating through my mind. I head out the front door, and immediately make a left to head towards the backyard and the pond. It is a windy day, much different than the beautiful day that was Saturday morning. So much has changed since then. It hardly feels real.
I dodge cascading leaves as I make my way towards an old wooden bench at the end of the water. I stare out at the metal culvert connecting this mucky pond to the river beyond. As a child, my brothers and I used to use the causeway for our adventures. It was really cool after my grandpa (on my mom’s side) had it put in. We used it a lot. Then the spiders moved in. It was a lot less fun after that.
Now it is blocked by a beaver dam. There is no passageway anymore. It has been taken over. And then it hits me. This challenge is nothing more than a dam, put up hastily by someone to stop Taylor from doing something. It had to be someone at the police department. Like any dam, the earlier you can break it, the better. There are still a lot of holes. My brain remembers something about the receipt that Taylor gave me. I check my pockets — I’m still wearing the same jeans. Sure enough, I still have it. What it says confirms my inkling:
Taylors *Personal* Phone number.
Call anytime you need to talk!
This was Taylor’s personal number. That can only mean one thing — Detective Pladsen, or whoever he is, is lying to me.
