Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) (3 page)

Search for missing student
leads to condemned apartments.
Naturally,
the story was embellished with an alluring portrait of a young
woman to rouse the public’s attention. A beautiful woman in
distress never fails to entertain the masses. Sandy blonde hair
fell past her shoulders and her green eyes sizzled with
energy.

“
The mystery surrounding
three local women takes on an urgent tone as Krista LaCroix, 22,
vanished from her apartment on September 3,” she read. The words
rolled like velvet off her tongue, although it hardly made the
details less menacing.

“
Authorities canvassed a
condemned apartment complex on the city outskirts, where LaCroix’s
last cell phone signal was traced. Police remain tight-lipped about
the ongoing investigation, refusing to comment on the possibility
of foul play. The same shroud of secrecy has marred the
disappearances of three women who vanished within the last three
months. Chief of Police Josef Láska attempted to explain LaCroix’s
disappearance as an escape from a troubled life.

“
Many members of the
community say they are not swayed by the authorities’ explanation
in light of so many coinciding disappearances. All of the missing
persons are Caucasian females in their twenties.

“
LaCroix was last seen by
her boyfriend Patrik Nedbalek at eleven p.m. before she left to
tend bars at a notorious cyberpunk club The Toxic Mistress.
Nedbalek remains a suspect in the investigation, having accumulated
a criminal record in high school, ranging from domestic abuse to
battery. Relatives will hold a candlelight vigil outside LaCroix’s
apartment with a small gathering of friends on September
9.”

The piano continued to envelope Vivian
in its solemn spell, sapping the soul out of her core.

She remembered how her mother always
warned her about strangers who might see opportunity in her naivety
and “take her.” Reportedly, many children were murdered within
twenty-four hours of abduction. How did that statistic compare to
young women? Her imagination began feed her trepidation.

The peril Nikolai hinted at was
manifesting with astonishing clarity in this article. What if she
got sucked into this killer’s demented playground?

Vivian glanced at the
reporter’s byline: Camilla Vesely, crime reporter for
Blaze
. She rifled among
the magazines on a nearby table until she unearthed a worn phone
book.

Scanning the directory, she stopped at
Vesely. She heaved a sigh and sauntered onto the balcony projecting
over the humming city. The tingling air inflated her lungs as she
rested her hands on the balustrade.

She gasped as the wind’s fingers
snatched the newspaper on her bed and flung it into the sky.
Obituaries, crime stories, and local scandals scattered to the wind
like autumn leaves bearing tragic news.

Vivian found herself reaching for her
cell phone. The late hour did not deter her from making the initial
contact. She feverishly punched the numbers and listened to the
phone ring. What would she say to Camilla when she
answered?

Hello, I’m a streetwalker
being extorted by a homicide detective. Will you help me track down
a serial killer?
She hadn’t the slightest
idea where to begin.

The ringing quickened in synch with
her heartbeat and she impulsively hung up. She sighed in relief. As
the silence deepened, she let out an exhausted laugh.

“
Nikolai, you son of a
bitch,” she chuckled in defeat, her words dripping with scorn.
“You’ve trapped me. I guess I have no choice but to play along for
now.” She jumped as the phone rang. Her eyes riveted on the number
displayed. Camilla. Gobbling up a deep breath, she swung the phone
to her ear.

“
Hello?” Silence answered
her. “Is this Camilla Vesely?”

“
Yes. Who am I speaking
to?”

“
My name is Vivian Xu and
I’m—” She bit her tongue. “—a former classmate of Krista LaCroix. I
saw the article about her disappearance in the paper. We went to
high school together.”

“
Krista?”

“
Yes, you wrote about her
disappearance in
Blaze.
Didn’t you?”

An excited “Oh!” whooshed
out of the phone. “Sorry, I’m on deadline and my mind is being
pulled in every direction. Yes, I remember writing about Krista
LaCroix. I’m so sorry to hear about your friend. I’m following a
string of local disappearances, and the faces and names tend to
blur together. Unfortunately, the police refuse to supply me with
any further details. If you continue to read
Blaze
, I promise you’ll learn more
about the investigation as soon as I do.”

“
Thank you, I would
appreciate that.”

“
So you attended high
school with Krista?”

“
Yes.”

“
Well, I’m sorry to be the
bearer of bad news. Unfortunately, that seems to be my niche
lately… I was wondering, Vivian, maybe we could meet for coffee
sometime and you could tell me more about Krista? If there’s any
information that might lead to her whereabouts?”

She was struck by the journalist’s
line of questioning. She expected brash questions about Krista’s
ex-lovers, family fallouts, or potential meth abuse. A journalist’s
genuine concern was foreign and refreshing.

Vivian glided across the balcony, her
fingers stroking the bony, marble railing.

“
Yes, I can answer your
questions. But I called you because of the article you wrote. I
wanted to attend the candlelight vigil outside Krista’s apartment.
I haven’t seen her for years and I owe this much to her, when she
needs me—and everyone—the most. Could you tell me where to find her
apartment?”

“
Of course.” Vivian quickly
scrawled the address. She certainly didn’t enjoy using her acting
talents to gain the confidence of innocent men and women. Even
feigning kinship to a girl who could be dead for all she knew felt
unforgivable.

“
Thank you,” Vivian said,
and her finger hovered over end.

“
Wait!
” The pitiful plea stayed her
hand. “Can I reach you again at this number?” Vivian wrestled down
the misgivings in her heart as she mulled the request. Perhaps she
could consult Camilla again for more information as new leads
arise. Yes, a relationship with a resourceful journalist could
certainly come to fruition in the near future.

“
Of course. Good night,
Miss Vesely.”

With those words, she disconnected. A
sigh unfurled from her lungs as she reclined on the bed.

At last, she opened the text message
from Nikolai.

Do you like your new
home?

Vivian shut her scarlet eyes as the
record player recited another piano-laced eulogy.

“
Yes,” she voiced to the
shadows. “Yes, I do.”

* * *

Razor-sharp terraces and Parisian
statues flourished across this unholy Garden of Eden, harkening
back to an ancient era that technology could not silence. It
smoldered in every corner of Prague, merging with exotic, bold
styles that set this hub apart from the rest of civilization.
Parapets with leering statues, miniature chateaus, sandstone
balustrades, these accounted for only a handful of elements that
shaped the streets.

A delightful empire of vice
outstretched around Vivian in all its rampant glory—but perhaps the
most endearing components were the cathedral gardens laced with
vines.

She walked past a burbling fountain
toward a nest of apartment buildings. The complex was only a few
blocks away from Sazka Gymnasium. Vivian keenly remembered her
senior year at that institution, so anxiously awaiting
college.

She couldn’t wait to say good-bye to
political science classes and learn something that actually
pertained to her career. What she wouldn’t give to be back in a
classroom, doodling on her Maturita exams.

A sea of candles twinkled at the end
of the street, beckoning Vivian. The closer she came, the more
voices mingled with the night. She could tell by the number of
strangers assembled that Krista LaCroix held a special significance
to the community. Every so often a whisper would float from
someone’s lips to her ears.

“
What do you suppose
happened to her?”

“
I’m in the dark just as
much as you are.”

“
Dvorak claims he’s seen
Krista walking past his shop early in the morning.”

“
He sees a lot of strange
things early in the morning. Doesn’t Krista work late hours at the
clubs? Besides, Dvorak loves to exaggerate everything.”

“
I’m talking about Krista
coming home at four in the morning, looking over her shoulder like
someone’s following her.”

“
Who knows? Maybe she
finally grew a spine and ditched her deadbeat
boyfriend.”

“
That still doesn’t explain
the other missing women. You honestly think they all walked out of
bed and left without telling their families?”

“
Excuse me,” Vivian
blurted. “How do you know Krista—?”

Suddenly, a giggling girl cut through
the crowd, clipping Vivian as she ran past. A boy came chasing
after her with a burning candle, wearing a broad grin that hardly
fit the solemn occasion. Even a funerary vigil couldn’t dampen the
child’s spirit, it seemed.

Vivian looked up to find the man and
woman sending her unwelcome stares. With cheeks burning nearly as
hot as the flaming candles around her, she spun away.

Vivian glanced down at her own hands,
bearing a vanilla candle she “borrowed” from Vesely Manor. Without
giving another thought, she gravitated toward the hub of activity
in the courtyard.

She felt like an outsider who
infiltrated a closely knit community, masquerading as a mourner.
She paused in front of an elderly woman with hair that fell in
stringy lengths. She peered above the horned rims of her glasses at
Vivian, looking into those lively, red eyes. Perhaps she could
distinguish Vivian from those who genuinely mourned Krista’s
loss.

Vivian gawked as the woman offered her
candle. Flames licked the waxy stump in her hands, wisping to life.
Vivian nodded meekly and scurried away. Once she cleared the silent
procession, she let out a deep breath.

What am I doing
here?
she wondered.
I’m not even sure what to look for.

Her eyes fell on the framed portrait
of a young woman nestled in the grass. Krista LaCroix. Twelve calla
lilies surrounded the portrait and, one by one, family and friends
set candles next to various articles of affection; photos, stuffed
animals, and childhood letters.

Murmuring swept through the crowd as a
statuesque woman with brown hair waded forward.

“
I want to welcome you all
here and thank you for joining our community tonight as we pray for
Krista LaCroix. My name is Daniel. We are gathered here at this
hour to pray for the safe return of a precious friend. For some of
you, Krista was the girl who stayed after class to help you with
homework. For others, she is a friend, a cousin, a sister. A
daughter.”

Her eyes fell on a woman mopping tears
from her cheeks.

“
Few of us can truly
appreciate what it feels like to lose a member of our family. That
being said, we are also here to support Krista’s family through
this ordeal. Like so many of you gathered tonight, Krista touched
my life from the moment I met her. She is an amazing, vibrant,
young woman who has contributed so much to society… and… so much to
me personally. She sensed our needs and responded with that needed
hug, word of support, or just listened to our troubles.”

Her eyes swept across a portrait of a
much younger Daniel and Krista playing in a sandbox. Those rich
days of summer seemed so long ago, now replaced with the icy chill
of autumn. For the longest time, silence captivated the
vigil.

“
Our gathering here is not
a surrender of our hope,” she adamantly declared. “We have united
as a community with prayers in our hearts for her safe return. I
know deep inside that Krista is still out there, looking for her
way home. Her family and friends will be here with open arms to
welcome her when she journeys back. Thank you.”

Daniel dipped her gaze to the candle
gleaming in her hands.

The woman next to Vivian began to hum
a quaint melody. It simmered in the dead of night. At last, a
chorus of voices merged with hers and lifted up in song.

Vivian refused to add her voice to the
chorus. The notion of singing at a candlelight vigil, nonetheless a
funeral, always struck her as morbid. She pledged to haunt anyone
who sang at her burial.

The chants and humming soaked into
every pore of Vivian’s body. As the voices weaved back and forth,
she began to lose track of time. She could scarcely tell whether
minutes or hours had passed.

One by one, the song diminished until
a single woman remained. She set her candle on the ground, joining
dozens of other burning candles to form a cross. Vivian stood alone
in the vacant courtyard. She blew out the flame in her hands and
the ensuing darkness wrapped her in its embrace.