Chapter Fourteen

Emily

I walk through the Sheriff's station to a chorus of congratulations and compliments from his deputies on the round of morning talk shows I'd just finished up. The deputies didn't want to work for Green anymore than we wanted him running the town.

I thought my performance this morning was acceptable. But, it wasn't anywhere near as electric as I'd wanted it to be. I rebutted Green's message well enough, but I was distracted and not entirely on top of my game.

Waking up covered in mud and blood after a dream that you'd just murdered somebody in will do that to you, I suppose.

I stare at the sheet of paper in my hand and shake my head. With a week to go until election day, Green has a double digit lead on us. He keeps spreading lies, fear, and distortions of the truth – and people keep eating it up.

Granted, I haven't been here all that long, but I've never seen Black Salmon Falls so divided and filled with hate and division before.

“Ten points,” I say, stepping into Richards' office. “A margin of error of plus or minus three.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair, running a hand through his salt and pepper colored hair. There's a faraway look on his face that almost looks like resignation to me. He looks like a man who sees the inevitable end and is doing his best to make peace with it.

“Don't you dare give up,” I say. “There is too much at stake.”

“I'm not much of a politician and I don't really follow polls,” he says. “But ten points sounds like a big lead. And with only a week to go, I don't know how we're going to close that gap.”

“We'll find a way,” I say. “Polls can sometimes be unreliable. And the gap might only be seven.”

“Yeah, but it also might be thirteen,” Richards corrects me.

There's an awkward silence between us as the truth of his words sink in. It might be a thirteen-point gap. We need to find a way to close it, to turn public sentiment away from Green and toward Richards again. I just don't know how to do it.

“Listen, I know you've been working your tail off the last few weeks,” he says. “I know it's not necessarily because you think I should be in this seat, but I just wanted to say thank you anyway. I guess it might be the good Lord's way of telling me to call it a day.”

“I don't accept that,” I say.

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “Accept it or not,” he says, pointing to the paper in my hand, “the cold numbers don't seem to be giving us much room to argue.”

I shrug. “I'm not throwing in the towel just yet,” I say. “I do think though, that the people need to hear from you directly. Not from a surrogate. I'm going to make some calls and get you booked on the morning radio shows. I want you to make your case to the people themselves.”

“And what case is that?”

“Ten years with a crime rate that's never risen above five percent,” I say. “This town is regularly voted one of the safest cities as well as one of the most desirable places to live. Much of the latter being owed to the former. That is your message, Sheriff. That's what you need to tell the people. You need to cut through the lies and all of the fear Green is spreading and tell them that he's full of crap.”

He chuckles softly. “I do admire your spunk, Emily.”

“We can still do this.”

“Close a ten, maybe thirteen-point gap in a week?” he asks. “It'd take a miracle.”

I give him a bright smile. “It's almost Christmas, Sheriff,” I say. “This is the season of miracles.”

~ooo000ooo~

I take the elevator down to the basement levels and step off. It's silent and cool down here. And entirely creepy. I follow the signs down toward the morgue and as I get closer, the distinct smell of antibacterial wash stops me in my tracks.

I start to tremble and sweat, memories flooding my mind and filling my soul with utter dread. I see flashes of images pop into my head. The plastic box. The doctors. The needles. I see and feel what they did to me all over again and it’s all I can do to keep from crying out.

You're special, B29841. Special.

Dr. Darvish's face, his voice, float through my head like an evil specter. And then my legs do give out and I fall to my knees. I bury my face in my hands and sob, overwhelmed by the memories. Overwhelmed by the fear.

I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders, helping me to my feet. I look up, expecting to see Jasper's face, but instead, is the face of the medical examiner, Connor Floyd.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle.

I give him a weak smile. “No, not really,” I say.

He gives me a lopsided grin. “Stupid question,” he says. “Sorry.”

We stand there a moment, him bracing me to keep me from falling down again. It's an awkward moment as neither of us know what to say. I'm sure finding a woman bawling in the hallway of his morgue isn't exactly standard protocol.

“You're Emily Bowden, right?” Floyd asks.

I sniff loudly as I wipe away my tears and nod. “In the flesh,” I say. “Great first impression, huh?”

He waves me off. “Come on, let's go into the lounge. I've already got some tea brewing.”

“That sounds nice,” I say. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, we're seated in the lounge, cups of tea in hand. I inhale the warm, spiced aroma and let it soothe me. Christmas music is playing softly on a radio in the corner and makes me smile.

“Christmas music always makes me feel a little happier and more upbeat too,” Floyd says.

“I'll never understand people who don't love it,” I say.

“Amen, sister,” he says. “Amen.”

I take a sip of the tea, letting its warmth fill my belly. It's as nourishing to my soul as the music is. I set the mug back down on the table, but leave my hands wrapped around the ceramic surface, absorbing the warmth as if it can melt the bitter cold that's enveloped my heart.

“So,” Floyd says. “How are you feeling?”

I give him another weak smile. “A little better now, thanks to you.”

He grins. “It's my pleasure, Ms. Bowden.”

“Emily,” I say.

“Emily then,” he says. “You're a rare bird, Emily. I've heard Sheriff Richards say some very complimentary things about you. And he doesn't compliment anybody.”

I sigh. “That's nice,” I say. “But, I don't know that we're going to win this fight. Things are looking a little bleak at the moment.”

“Don't underestimate the power of a Christmas miracle,” he says.

A genuine smile crosses my face. “That's exactly what I told the Sheriff.”

“Great minds,” he says. “So, what brings you down this way? If you were looking for Jasper, he and Winter just left a little bit ago.”

Hearing that Jasper is running around with Winter sends a spike of jealousy through me and I feel my grip on the mug tighten. If I don't relax my hands and unclench them, I fear I may shatter it. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing myself to calm down.

“That Winter,” I say slowly. “She's – something.”

“Boy, I'll say,” he replies.

It's stupid, but his reaction drives that spike of jealousy even deeper into my heart. It's as if he's confirming every doubt, fear, and insecurity about myself that I already have. I force myself to keep calm and my face neutral. This isn't Floyd's problem. This isn't his issue. It's mine. And I'll have to deal with it.

“But, I'll tell you something,” Floyd continues. “Jasper? He's only got eyes for you. If you don't mind my saying so.”

I turn to him and cock my head, aghast that somebody else seems to know that which I've been so diligent about keeping a secret.

“I – I don't know what you mean,” I mutter.

Floyd's smile is warm. “Whenever he speaks about you, his eyes light up in that special way,” he says. “I know I get it whenever I talk about my Ariel. The man is in love with you.”

I shake my head and am consumed by fears and doubts once again. I would prefer to avoid the conversation altogether, but apparently, it's not as well guarded of a secret as I thought. And since Floyd already knows about it, maybe getting his insights wouldn't hurt any.

“I'm not so sure about that,” I say. “I mean, Winter. They seem to be a more logical pair. They're both bears, after all. I don't share that kind of a connection with him. I don't think –”

Floyd smiles. “I don't think that matters,” he says. “Jasper and Winter are obviously close. Obviously good friends. But, I've seen them together, Emily. That romantic bond doesn't exist between them. His eyes don't light up when he looks at her the way they do when your name is even mentioned.”

I feel the tears stinging my eyes and my heart begin to swell as he speaks.

“Trust me, you have nothing to fear with Winter,” he says. “Jasper's heart is totally and completely, one hundred percent yours.”

The tears spilling down my cheeks, I reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Dr. Floyd,” I say. “You don't even know what that means to me.”

He squeezes my hand in return. “Connor, please,” he says.

“Connor, then.”

We sit in a companionable silence for a few moments while I sip my tea and try to collect myself once more. When I feel sorted out, I take a deep breath and look up.

“So, Emily,” Floyd says “What brings you down this way? The morgue doesn't seem like a place you typically frequent.”

“It wouldn't be my first place to hang out, no,” I say. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I came to see you, actually,” I say. “Luca and Jasper are both very fond of you. And they say that you're a man who can be trusted. That you know how to keep confidences.”

“I like to think I can hold a secret,” he replies, a light of curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, I hate to impose you, but I need a big favor,” I say. “And it's a pretty big secret I need you to keep.”

He cocks his head, the curiosity in his eyes deepening.

“I need you to test my blood,” I say.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Test it for what exactly?”

I shrug. “I – I don't really know.”

“That's going to make testing it a little difficult,” he says. “I kinda need to know what to look for.”

I figured it wasn't going to be that easy, and I already prepared myself for it. Taking another deep breath, I let it out slowly.

“I'm going to tell you something I've never told anybody,” I say. “Not even Jasper.”

“Color me intrigued.”

And so, I tell him my story. I tell him everything that happened during my abduction, leaving nothing out. I hesitate at first, but I figure it's relevant to the story, so I even tell him about my dreams and what happened last night. I tell him about waking up covered in mud and blood and not being sure what happened or how it all got there.

I speak for the better part of half an hour and when I'm finished, my tea cup is empty, there are half a dozen tissues on the table in front of me, and I feel emotionally spent.

“Wow,” he says. “That's quite the story.”

“Tell me about it,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Well, rest assured, that story does not leave these walls,” he says. “And I'll help you any way I can.”

I grip his hand tightly, a shaky smile on my face. “Thank you, Connor,” I say. “You don't know what this means to me.”

“I know we don't know each other very well,” he says. “But, the idea that you're the one running around killing all of these people sounds pretty preposterous to me.”

“I'd like to think so,” I say. “But, I can't be sure of anything right now. I don't know what they did to me in that lab exactly. But, I feel – different. I feel like something's changed inside of me. I feel like they've turned me into something other than a human.”

“Well, all of that should be relatively easy to find out,” he says. “I'm going to need to do some tests though.”

I nod. “Yes, please.”

“I'm going to need your blood, of course,” he says. “But, I'm also going to want to take some x-rays and an MRI.”

“Whatever you need,” I say. “I just need some answers.”

“I understand.”

“Oh, one more thing,” I say.

I reach into my satchel and pull out a plastic bag. I look at the bloody shirt inside of the bag and feel a jolt of fear run through me.

“I – this is the shirt I woke up in,” I say. “I – I don't know whose blood that is. All I know is that it's not mine and I'm afraid it belongs to the man who was brought into you this morning.”

Reluctantly, knowing that could be signing my own prison sentence, I hand the bag over to Floyd. He accepts it, clearly understanding the gravity of the situation.

“Don't worry, Emily,” he says. “We're going to get you some answers. Everything is going to be okay.”

“I hope so, Connor,” I say, my voice little more than a whisper. “I really hope so.”