Resurrected. Morgan Rice
their little village, like mad people, trying to catch their daughter.
But it was no use. They were soon out of breath, Scarlet completely disappeared from view. She’d ran so fast, had leapt over an eight foot hedge in a single bound, without even slowing. Caleb had been amazed, although Caitlin had not: she knew what Scarlet was. She knew, even as she ran, that it was a futile effort, that Scarlet could run with lightning speed, leap over anything, and that within moments she would be completely lost, out of sight.
She was. They ran back to the house, jumped into their car, and had sped through the streets, frantically searching. But Caitlin knew, even as Caleb blew stop signs, took each turn hard, that they didn’t stand a chance. They wouldn’t catch her. Scarlet, she knew, was long gone.
After hours, finally, Caitlin had had enough, had insisted that they return home and call the police.
Now here they were, hours later, at almost midnight. Scarlet hadn’t returned, and the police hadn’t been able to find her. Luckily, it was a small town, with nothing else going on, and they had sent out cars immediately to search for her, and were still searching. The rest of the force – three officers seated across from them, along with the three officers standing around – remained here, asking question after question.
“Caitlin?”
Caitlin snapped out of it. She turned and saw the face of the officer seated on the couch across from her. Ed Hardy. He was a good man, had a daughter Scarlet’s age, in her grade. He looked at her with sympathy and concern. She knew he felt her pain as a parent, and that he would do his best.
“I know this is hard,” he said. “But we just have a few more questions. We really need to know everything if we’re going to find Scarlet.”
Caitlin nodded back. She tried to focus.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What else do you need to know?”
Officer Hardy cleared his throat, looking from Caitlin to Caleb, then back to her again. He seemed reluctant to proceed with his next question.
“I hate to ask this, but were there any arguments between you and your daughter in recent days?”
Caitlin looked back at him, puzzled.
“Arguments?” she asked.
“Any disagreements? Any fights? Any reason she would want to leave?”
Then Caitlin realized: he was asking her if Scarlet ran away. He still didn’t understand.
She shook her head vehemently.
“There’s no reason she’d want to leave. We never argued. Ever. We love Scarlet and Scarlet loves us. She’s not the arguing type. She’s not a rebel. She wouldn’t run away. Don’t you understand? That’s not what this is about at all. Haven’t you heard anything we’ve been telling you? She’s sick! She needs help!”
Officer Hardy looked at his fellow officers, who looked back skeptically.
“I’m sorry to ask,” he continued. “But you must realize, we get calls like this all the time. Teenage kids run away. That’s what they do. They get mad at their parents. And in 99 % of cases, they come back. Usually a few hours later. Sometimes a day or two. They crash at a friend’s house. They just want to get away from their folks. And it’s usually preceded by an argument.”
“There was no argument,” Caleb chimed in, forcefully. “Scarlet was as happy as can be. We celebrated her sixteenth birthday last night. Like Caitlin said, she’s not that kind of girl.”
“I feel like you’re still not listening to a word we said,” Caitlin added. “We told you, Scarlet was sick. She was sent home early from school. She was having… I don’t know what. Convulsions… maybe seizures. She jumped out of bed and ran out the house. This isn’t the case of a runaway. It’s a child who is sick. Who needs medical attention.”
Officer Hardy looked again at his fellow officers, who continued to look skeptical.
“I’m sorry, but what you’re telling us just doesn’t make any sense. If she was sick, how could she run out the house?”
“You said you chased her,” chimed in another officer, edgier. “How could she have outrun you both? Especially if she was sick?”
Caleb shook his head, looking baffled himself.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s what happened.”
“It’s true. Every word of it is true,” Caitlin said softly, remorsefully.
She was getting a sinking feeling that these men wouldn’t understand. But she knew why Scarlet was able to outrun them; she knew why she was able to run when sick. She knew the answer – the one that would explain everything. But it was the one answer she could not give, the one that these men would never believe. They were not convulsions; they were hunger pangs. Scarlet was not running; she was hunting. And that was because her daughter was a vampire.
Caitlin flinched inside, burning to tell them, but knowing it was an answer that these men would be unable to hear. So instead, she stared solemnly out the window, hoping, praying, Scarlet would come back. That she might get better. That she hadn’t fed. Hoping that these men would go away, leave her alone. She knew they were useless anyway. Calling them had been a mistake.
“I hate to say this,” added the third officer, “but what you’re describing… your daughter coming home from school, having seizures, having an adrenaline rush, bursting out the door… I hate to say this, but it sounds like drugs. Maybe cocaine. Or Meth. It sounds like she was high on something. Like she had a bad trip. And adrenaline kicked in.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caleb shot back at him. “Scarlet is not that kind of girl. She’s never done drugs in her life.”
The three officers looked at each other, skeptical.
“I know it’s hard for you to hear,” Officer Hardy said softly, “it’s hard for most parents to hear. But our kids lead lives we never know about. You don’t know what she’s doing behind the scenes, with her friends.”
“Did she bring around any new friends lately?” another officer asked.
Suddenly, Caleb’s face hardened.
“Last night, actually,” he said, anger rising in his voice. “She brought around a new boyfriend. Blake. They went to the movies together.”
The three cops looked at each other with a knowing look.
“You think that’s it?” Caleb asked. “Do you think this kid is pushing drugs on her?” As Caleb asked it, he started to sound more sure of it himself, more optimistic that he’d found a neat answer to explain everything.
Caitlin sat there silently, just wanting this to end. She was burning to tell them all the real reason. But she knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“What’s his last name?” one of the officers asked.
“I have no idea.” Caleb turned and looked at Caitlin. “Do you?”
Caitlin shook her head, and turned to Sam and Polly. “You guys?”
They shook their heads.
“Maybe I can find out,” Polly said. “If they were friends on Facebook…” Polly began, then took out her cell phone and started typing. “I’m friends with Scarlet on Facebook. I don’t know what her settings are, but maybe I can view her other friends. And if she’s friends with him… ”
Polly typed, and her eyes lit up.
“Here! Blake Robertson. Yeah, this is him!”
The cops leaned over and Polly reached out and held up her cell. They took it, handing it one to the other, looking closely at his face, writing down his last name.
“We’ll talk to him,” Officer Hardy said, as they handed Polly back her phone. “Maybe he knows something.”
“What about Scarlet’s other friends?” another officer asked.