Connection

Chapter Twenty-Three: Cliff

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Cliff

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For a moment—just a moment—an overwhelming wave of emptiness, stronger than anything he'd felt previously washed over him. Standing in her room was unlike anything else he'd experienced.

And then in an instance it was gone, but a lingering feeling was stuck in his brain. It was one that he couldn't quite place his finger on but knew that it had something to do with Charlotte. Whatever was happening, Charlotte was at the center of it.

"Okay, we have to be quick," Jean repeated, scanning the room. "Did you bring a notepad?"

"Yeah," Cliff answered, shaking himself back to reality. He pulled a sheaf of paper out of his sweatshirt pocket along with a pen and looked around. Despite one of many quotes posted on the wall laying on the floor and trinkets placed haphazardly around the room, Cliff saw no signs of any struggle.

He began describing the room as he saw it, trying not to leave any details out but it was boring work. As much as he liked having something to do that felt proactive, he couldn't help but feel let down as he delineated a room without one thing amiss.

When he was finished, he asked Jean if she had anything that seemed worth writing down but she agreed that what he'd done was enough and moved out to the balcony.

Here things were completely different. A railing circled the outside of the balcony and a large chunk of it had been blown off. Various pieces of metal laid in an untidy pile where the gap existed but no effort had been given toward the actual reparations of the banister.

Old ash littered the floor in an organic line and there was a faint stain of red just to left of it.

"W- Why hasn't he done anything to it?" Jean asked with wide eyes and an open mouth. I stared at the scene with a pounding heart and shook my head.

"I'm not sure," Cliff muttered, taking in any detail he could find. "Maybe he couldn't bring himself to see it."

"But wouldn't he come out here, even if it was just to talk to whoever was investigating it? Even while he was looking for her the first morning she was gone?"

"Wouldn't the mayor's workers clean it up?" he voiced, his own suspicions weaving into his endless string of thoughts. Something was wrong; something was definitely wrong.

"I don't know who was assigned to this," she said, shaking her head.

"Well," Cliff forced himself to say, "we have our own job to do. I'll get to it. Give me any details you think I miss."

Together, they crafted an explanation of what the scene looked like on the surface, and once that was done they began investigating further.

Cliff took the right side and Jean took the left, each scanning every inch of the balcony looking for anything important. It was an uneventful few minutes as they searched arduously, but soon after, a yelp erupted behind Cliff. He turned and saw Jean inspecting a pot, a large smile on her face.

"I found somet—"

Cliff shushed her at once and pulled her inside. He jumped to the left and Jean followed his lead.

"What is it?" she whispered, breathing heavily.

"Someone is here. We've been at the house too long. I saw them," he muttered, his mind racing. How were they going to get out of this? He'd seen a man and a woman watching them through the bushes and now they were trapped inside the house.