Wrapped in Color and Light

Chapter 10

Emma's eyes burned from a lack of sleep and inexhaustible tears, but she focused, answering the questions nonetheless. Joel had been gone for thirty-six hours, and the police were growing frustrated.

The sergeant behind the metal desk had wire-rimmed glasses that sat on the end of his nose while a second pair lay on top of his head. He was clearly tired as his long list of customary questions droned monotonously.

"Where were you?"

"What were you doing?"

"Did he mention anything to you?"

"Do you know of anyone who wanted to harm him?"

For a whole day after Joel had gone missing, she'd cried from fear, from jealousy, from not understanding why Joel had been chosen to go and not her. She belonged in that world, had dreamed of it. For her, it was real, as though she could travel there by ship.

Regret rotted her insides, and she wished she could go back in time and tell Joel what she really knew. When he'd recounted his story about The Raven's Ring and the song he'd sung, she'd told him she believed him, that she would help him if she could. But she hadn't been ready to tell him about Teresa, assuming there'd be time for that—or so she'd thought.

Struggling with exhaustion, she tried desperately to concentrate on the sergeant's words. Though the cold air in the room helped, her head still spun, and she wasn't entirely sure of the answers that left her lips.

There was little for her to hide. She'd left with Craig, and when she'd gotten back to the office, Joel had disappeared. She'd looked all over the museum, finding no trace of him. He'd simply vanished.

And while she told the sergeant that she'd looked for Joel in the storage room, she failed to mention what had happened with Captives.

When David had been busy with calling anyone who might know where Joel was, she'd slipped into the storage room to study the painting. She'd scrutinized each character, wondering if any were capable of pulling Joel in. The tailor had seemed too innocent, and the maiden and the man who'd been a stag had been too wrapped up in one another to care.

The wizard had been different, and though she'd tried not to stare, she couldn't help but focus on him. As she'd examined his threatening glare, she'd felt fingers wrapping around her forearm, a cold touch more like steel than flesh. She'd looked down. Nothing had been there.

Rather than jump away, the contact had fueled a fire inside her. "What did you do with him? I know it was you. I know it!"

She hadn't expected anything to happen, but when she had seen the change, her heart had stopped, and her hands had fallen to the table to support her body.

The wizard's eyes had narrowed, and his lips had curled into a sinister smile. It had been brief but clear. Leaning over the table, Emma had refused to look back at the painting. She'd panted heavily, staring at the carpeted tabletop. It was then she had seen something small and silver tucked against the side of the frame. She'd grabbed it, regained her composure, and taken a last look at the wizard, his face frozen as it had always been.

"You bastard!" she'd shouted before darting out of the storage room.

While the sergeant spewed his questions, she imagined how she might tell David. He'd undoubtedly call her insane and curse her for suggesting such a story about his son. Nonetheless, she held on to the small hope that he might just believe her.

In that cold room, working tirelessly to keep her head from falling over, she could only pray. She ran dozens of possible conversations in her head. None felt right. Feeling more alone than ever, she remembered one man who would perhaps understand, most likely knowing this painting had the ability to kidnap, and he lived here in New York. If David didn't believe her, surely, Roman Dulac would, and she was determined to find him.

After the sergeant dismissed her, Emma walked the eleven blocks to David's apartment. He opened the door, and she inhaled the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee.

"Hey," he said, surprised.

"Hope I'm not bothering you, but I wanted to talk about Joel."

He nodded and invited her in, a mug of coffee in hand. He had dark circles under his eyes, but at least there was still some life in them. "Coffee?"

"Uh, sure."

Emma sat on the couch and rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers, massaging her eyeballs in a circular motion. When she opened them, David was holding a steaming cup in front of her.

"Cream and sugar okay?"

"Perfect."

The hot coffee tumbled down her throat, hitting her empty stomach heavily. She wrapped both hands around the mug and glanced down at it before looking back at David.

When she found the courage, she asked, "How are you?"

"Not good. You?"

"Not good."

This made both of them smile, albeit slightly, for the first time in days. They sat there, Emma on the couch and David across from her on a kitchen chair, drinking coffee in silence.

With the last drop drained from her cup, Emma knew it was time. "He didn't run away, you know."
"I know."

She waited, gathering grit. "David?"

"Yes?"

She took a deep breath. "I think I know where Joel is."

"You do?" He leaned toward her. "Why haven't you said anything? Did you tell the police?"

She trembled. There was no going back. "No, I haven't said a thing. I wanted to tell you first because the explanation is...well, it's quite insane, to be honest with you, but I know it's true."

David tightly gripped her hand. "Tell me what you know, Emma, please."

Sighing, she started with the disappearance of Celio Cross, and then she wrapped up with how she believed Joel must've gone through Captives and was now living in the world of fairy tales.

David stared at her, his expression unchanged. He stood up, walked over to the window, and looked out at the sun. When he didn't say anything, Emma continued, telling him about Teresa and the cabin, how her nanny's sister had also disappeared. Then, after some hesitation, she suggested Celio Cross had suffered the same fate.

"I know this is hard to believe. It's hard for me, too. But it's the only thing that makes sense, and I've seen it with my own eyes. I saw Joel enchanted by The Raven's Ring. He was in a trance, and his hand moved against his will. His eyes were empty, his face blank. It was so frightening, David. I've never seen anything like it. Then, there's the wizard. He took Joel. I know he did! I saw the wizard move in the painting. His face changed when I yelled at him." She was pleading with David, hoping to get some response.

When she got none, she pulled the silver pick from her pocket. "In the storage room, after I saw the wizard smile, my body lost control of itself, and I fell onto the table. That's when I saw this." She held up the pick with the J.C. engraving. "You know he doesn't go anywhere without it. Something made him drop it. Otherwise, he'd never have let it go."

She waited.

David turned and glanced at the pick. "I know what happened, Emma. I just didn't want to believe it." He faced the window again, and the muffled words he said next were barely audible, "Dear God, what the hell are we going to do now?"