The Lost is Found

draft

-The Lost Is Found-

 

 

--Sarah Michaels--

 

I no longer care what Vince has to say for himself. If not for that poor dead girl, I could let Vince remain lost to me, but I must know.

 

--Thad Powers--

 I worry what Sarah will learn from this trip, more pressingly what she will find tonight.

 

 

-Dead Man's Bluff-

 

  The sleek black taxi rolled up to the curb. Sara and Thad jumped in, and to the cottage, the driver headed. 

 

  

"The Heart is a beautiful place. I have always wanted to stay there; by night it has a grand view of the city lights. Yes, I have wanted to wake to the morning sun and a sleepy blonde in that cozy nook of the cottage, but to date I have not." His two passengers offered him a weak smile without a retort. So, he continued the drive without speaking.

 

Thad slid next to Sara, placing his arm around her shoulder. Her smile expressed soft, timid emotions bound together with apprehension. So, he spoke to her with care. 

 

  

"What do you expect to learn?" Her gaze stripped away his defenses, and he leaned a little closer.

 

She gave him half a shrug. "I want to know why, is that so wrong?"

 

  

"It's simple. Greed. Some men will abandon their very soul for the promise of more."

  

 

"I guess so," Sara said with a creased brow.

   

"A penny for your thoughts."

 

  "I have been thinking about Stephanie and the accident. I just don't know how this all fits together."

 

"Not an accident, but beyond that, I am not sure. We may never know. We'll go and look around the cottage. Vince probably will not be there."

 

The night began to settle on the horizon. A tangerine skyline mushroomed to plum. The cab's headlights fan across the approach to the Heart.

 

"Can you wait here for us?"

 

"Your dime," says the curt cabbie. Maybe a little more brusquely than he intended, if he wants a good tip, but then again, this is Paris.

 

"I'll call the police with this address. Then we'll look around."

 

Sara nods, gathers up her wrap, and heads to the porch to wait. The front curtains stand wide open. Resting in a wingback chair sits Vince. His back is to the window, and in front of the fireplace by dwindling embers, he sleeps. A drained bottle of Rye crowns a side-table; beside it, an empty tumbler waits for more libation. 

 

"He's stinking drunk." She grumbles.

 

Over the years, the two of them had seldom drank. Seeing his arm dangling limp over the chair took her back to when he passed the bar, and the night that followed. The memory stirred no pleasure. Instead, the sight of him fired heated emotions. Firmly she gave the door two loud wraps. The noise did not wake him. Everything she wanted to say came rushing to her mind. With intent, she knocked louder.

 

"Vince, I can see you. Open the door." Still, there was no movement. 

 

In the background, Thad's voice calmly spoke to the police. Sara turns toward him as she hears him say, "Really, and it's not Stephanie." 

 

  

However, her focus will not give way to curiosity, and with purpose, she tries the door. Then, crosses the threshold.

 

"Vince!" she said. Still, he did not move. "Man, Vince, you are trashed," Sara said, walking straight to him. Firmly, she grabbed his shoulder to wake him, but instead of him waking, vacant eyes stare at the glowing fire. 

 

 

"Thad!"

 

Thad entered the house with quick and efficient motion. With his phone still against his ear. His final step landed him at her side. The faintly lit room reveals Sara in a limp stance, glassy-eyed and with mouth hinged open. He turns his attention to the man in the chair. He recognizes Vince from a photo. The dead stare tells him all he needs to know. He cradles the phone to his chest, "don't touch anything; this is a crime scene," He said.

 

The dead man's bare feet were purple. Thad used his forefinger to try the carotid, a pointless action, but never-the-less the touch of his skin reveals that rigor mortis has not set in, and instead of an ashen complexion, it held an unnatural hint of pink. He scanned the room and notices a small door built into the fireplace for wood storage. The door stands slightly jarred, 'and on the other side of that wall a garage, I'd guess,' he thinks. 

 

Sara takes a few steps back, struggling to breathe when she notices a crossword puzzle, 'the last thing you ever did,' she thinks. She bends down to pick it up as Thad continues his conversation with the police.

 

"Sir, we found Vince in the cottage, and he's dead."

…

"Yes, sir, I'm sure." 

...

"Yes, sir, we'll wait outside."

 

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

This is amazing story dear Cherrie. Each chapter adding to the storyline and the plot. You left a wide open ending for this chapter. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Patricia Wedel]

Wow! Cherrie... you are an Author that hypnotizes the reader as though the Sky were full of thunder and lightening ... the ending gaze
of eternal wandering. Bravo as you continue in your adventures in the New Year... truly, Pat

[Cherrie Palmer]

Well this year will be an adventure for sure, we are now raising two grandkids. Just picked up Gage he is 12(autistic) and as sweet as sugar.

[Patricia Wedel]

The young are a Tonic for the Soul and an Autistic child is in need of Angels like you and your Hubby. Be Blessed and be Well... you and your family... tenderly, Pat

[Lorry]

This one should definitely have the "Duh duh dum" sound at the end, before the voice over reminds us to tune in to next week's episode. All those thoughts she wanted to vent will forever go unsaid, at least not to Vince.
I feel slightly let down I've caught up now, so what ha waiting for? Get to it Lady! 😉
At least I can empathise with Sarah more now, with all the guessing where it'll go next running through my head. 😊
Zipping along nicely Cherrie. Just as well I've caught up now and catch my breath, just don't keep us waiting for the next instalment 😊

[Cherrie Palmer]

I am such a fan of old radio shows, and in one story I made a mini chapter that was a commercial. I had wanted to do yhat for a long time. :)
But life should come with theme music for a, heads up, for suprise , intrigue and danger.

[Cherrie Palmer]

And possibly some, bow-chicky-bow-wow, for the good stuff.