PART TWO ~ CHAPTER THIRTEEN ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER by B. A. Linhares

After the breakup...

 

 

The alarm goes off promptly at six. I turn it off and roll out of bed. Groggy from lack of sleep, I stand up slowly, and make my way to the bathroom and shut the door. Suddenly a blinding light sends me reeling. I jerk backwards and with a loud thump, slam my head into the metal hook on the back of the door. I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. I slide to the floor as a white flash of pain stabs my brain. I can’t breath. I try to stand up but my legs feel like jelly. I press my back into the door and pull my legs up, hugging my shins.

My whole head hurts and I can feel my heart racing and quivering in my chest like a wild bird in a cage. My entire body is vibrating like crazy. What the hell is wrong with me? Epilepsy. The word shoots fear through me like a hot sword. Panting through clenched teeth, I fight the urge to call for help. I can’t let Pop see me like this.

“Just hold on, hold on, hold on,” I chant and rock on my butt and feet. “It’ll pass. You can make it through this. You don’t have Epilepsy.” My courage surprises me.

The tremors stop but everything goes black. I sit there totally blind for I don’t know how long. I feel the back of my head. A small scratch stings under my finger. Then it’s as if someone flipped a switch. Everything is bathed in a pure white light. I am no longer afraid and the pain in my head is gone. A pleasant tingly sensation courses throughout my body. It’s as if I’m floating in a warm spot in a bottomless ocean. I can’t tell if I'm sitting, standing or lying down. Everything in my peripheral vision melts into a watery halo, but directly in front of me the radiant light ebbs and flows into various shapes and objects like a magic painting of a jungle… Africa? I think, as wild animal sounds and smells prick at my senses. I strain to make out sporadic movements inside a large cage. Several frantic little black and white hairy creatures fly around the cage chattering and squealing.

I’m seeing a zoo.

I say, “I can see the monkeys!” I squeal and clap my hands with joy. Something tugs at my wrist. I hold up my arm and look at the white ribbon tied in a loose loop around my wrist. A bright red balloon is floating above my head. Pop tied the ribbon around my wrist so my balloon wouldn’t get away.

High-pitched screams draw my attention back to the cute little monkeys swinging limb to limb. The bigger of the two monkeys begins scratching at the other, pushing its fur apart and picking frantically at the white line of exposed skin. The monkey plucks off a fat tick and sticks it in his mouth. He works his jaws and stares at me with yellow eyes. Then he rolls back his black rubbery lips in a ghoulish grin and exposes a perfect row of tiny pointed teeth.

I scream.

Someone is calling my name. I try to see a face.

It’s Mommy!

I run from cage to cage calling, “Mommy where are you?”

“Over here...help me Cookie.”

Leaning against the bars, I see her standing by a cot in a smaller cage. “Mommy, why are you in the monkey cage?”

“Cookie…COOKIE!”

It’s Poppy.

“Poppy!” I yell. “Help me get Mommy out of the cage!” Confused, I back away from the cage, almost tripping on the edge of the walkway.

I'm falling. I my eyes fly open and jolt backwards into the closed door. I jerk awake and become aware of muffled pounding noise in the distance.

“Cookie, unlock the door darlin!”

I blink awake and squint at the shower door. The sun is shinning blindingly through the bathroom window. I drop my eyes. I’m sitting on the hard floor.

The door handle shakes and Pop pounds on the door making it vibrate.

“Cookie, for the love of God, why won’t you open the door?”

“Pop?” I call out, struggling to get to my feet. My legs feel like rubber but I stand and try to open the door.

“What’s wrong?” he asks through the door as I twist the doorknob and push with my shoulder.

“It’s stuck!” I step back and look at the top of the door.

After a couple more hard shoves from me and yanks from Pop, the door wrenches opens and I push out in the hallway.

Pop steps back and his sleepy eyes go wide. “My Lord, child you scared the bejusus out of me!” He's wearing a plaid robe and slippers. His curly red hair is a sight. He drops his hand but remains doubtful. “I heard you scream. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine… really,” I tell him and smile sheepishly. It’s not easy to be convincing under such scrutiny.

“You were in there so long...I didn't know what to think.”

“Uh, yeah, the dang door wouldn’t open!”

To avoid any more questions, I push past him, enter my room and start picking up my school papers spread all over the carpet. I'm afraid to tell him about my episode. I must've passed out after hitting my head. I crawl around on the carpet and start organizing my papers, notebooks and texts in three stacks. Out of the corner of my eye, I look over and see him running his hand over the top edge of the bathroom door and my door. He goes back and inspects the bathroom door some more. He rakes his hands through his hair and looks at the door from top to bottom.

He says, “My guess the humidity from the downpour last night made the doors swell.”

“Ya think?” I mutter dramatically. I start shoving some of my school stuff in my leather backpack. I want to say forget the doors, I’m afraid there is something really messed up with my brain. No, you're fine now. You're just stressing too much about stuff. Sean, school, Mr. Jackson's assignment...

Pop says, “Yeah, this is where it bows the worst…happens in older houses.” He knocks on the solid wood with his knuckles. “Plus, there are five or so layers of paint on the doors. I’ll call a carpenter today. Maybe it's time for some new doors.”

I look at Mom’s yellow blanket in my window seat. Why did I see her in a cage…?

Pop traverses the hall and stands just inside my door. “Is that why you were in there yelling? You couldn’t get out?”

I sit back on my heels and look at him. He's on to me.

“Yeah. Actually, it’s pretty funny,” I say nonchalantly, desperately trying to make light of the fact that I’m having bazaar dreams about Mom again. I shrug. “I was singing a song and just got carried away.” I hug my waist and pretend to laugh at myself. I gather the papers on the floor I put out to dry. Now that I think about it, the zoo thing linked to my sixth birthday. It’s not strange that I’d associate it with her. The bizarre episodes involving pain in my head and the wild light shows are still scary. I mean, why after all this time would an old scar start hurting like heck?

Frowning, Pop laughs and shakes his head. “Well, you woke me out of a dead sleep. I thought you’d fallen in the shower and...I don't even want to go there.”

I hold out my arms. “What can I say, I’m a klutz. I guess when I smacked my head on the door...” I look up at him and smile. “That’s what you heard.” I laugh uneasily and touch the goose egg on the back of my head. Pop sees me rubbing my head and crosses the carpet, gingerly stepping over the piles. I stand up and he turns me around and gently probes the back of my head with his fingertips. Ouch, I say silently.

“You have a good sized lump and a small scratch.” He cups my face in his hand and looks into my eyes, searching for signs of a concussion. He squares his shoulders and raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a headache?”

I pull a face. “No,” I fib, and crouch down on the carpet again and start poking stuff in my bag. Actually, my temple feels like it’s in a vice, but what else is new.

“I’ll fetch an ice pack,” he says, turning to go. “Put it on the bump to reduce the swelling.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

Pop pauses at the door and glances around my room. “It looks as if the storm blew through here as well.”

“Long story,” I say, not looking up, glad we've changed the subject. I pick up my Science notebook and for some reason picture my car. I look up and shout, “Hey, don’t forget to call Earl’s Garage!”

Pop nods in agreement, and then turns to go. “First off, I’ll bring you that ice pack.”

I smile and he waves his hand and toddles across the hall to the closet where we keep the First Aid stuff. A few minuets later, I hear him clump down the stairs. I zip around and finish picking up every thing. My hand goes up to my head and I sit on my bed feeling a little woozy. I press on my temple then the bump on the back of my head. Uh, double whammy! Maybe I should have Pop call the school and say I’m sick. Normally, I’d play this to the max but I really want to see Josh. Plus, I actually like school this year. Still, what if there is something seriously wrong with me. I sit there considering my options until Pop raps his knuckles on the door frame. I jump to my feet and meet him halfway.

“Here you go,” Pop says, passing me the full ice pack.

“Thanks.” I sit on the edge of my bed again and press the ice pack on the back of my head. Pop watches me like a mother hen.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asks frowning down at me.

I shake my head. “It’s tender but I’ll live.”

“I ought to call Doc Fenton,” he says, placing his hands on his hips.

“Don't be silly. My head feels better already. I have to get ready for school,” I tell him, and force a smile. “Do you mind making me some breakfast... please kind sir?”

“I could go for a hot meal now that I'm wide awake.” He walks to the door and turns around. “What would your highness like to eat?”

I tap my chin and recall the fresh blueberries I saw in the fridge. “Um, I’m thinking blueberry pancakes will do the trick.”

He nods and tightens the knot in his bathrobe. “Would the princess prefer sausage or bacon?”

I pause. “Um…bacon, please kind servant. Extra crispy.”

Pop bows and backs out of the door. He goes to his room, dresses and then goes down to the kitchen.

I put the ice pack aside and pull on fresh jeans and a top. In the bathroom, I wash my face with a warm washcloth and examine the scar on my temple. I dry my face and hang up the towel. Should I tell Pop about the pain in my temple, and the temporary blindness? No. What if he makes me see a shrink? Or worse have my head examined? This makes me laugh out loud. I brush my hair then apply a dab of blush and mascara. I put my make-up away and stare at my reflection.

What was the deal with Mom in that cage? I picture the Washington Zoo. At the last minuet, Mom called and said she was finished work was actually able to fly home from Vienna for my 6th birthday. She surprised me with a trip the zoo. I’d never been to a zoo and I was excited about seeing the Colobus monkeys featured on the cover of the zoo’s brochure she brought home the night before. I remember being so upset when we got to the primate section and the monkey cage was empty. A sign said the cages were being cleaned and would reopen sometime after noon. Except later on, we ran out of time, and the zoo was closing. I was so disappointed I didn’t say anything. Deep down me really blamed Mom for distracting Pop and not paying attention to the time.

I was such a brat.

I turn off the light and go back in my room. I sit in my window seat and put on my tennis shoes. It scares me to think that there might be something wrong with me. I bend over to tie the laces and my head throbs. I sit up and feel the scar. Could the pain in my temple be causing the vivid dreams... or whatever they are? I turn sideways and stare at the picture of us in Austria trying to interpret the dream. Is Mom alive and locked up somewhere? A shiver runs down my spine.

There’s a thought.

I stand up slowly and my stomach rolls over. I did eat a big meal last night. Then fell asleep right after. I always heard that makes you dream weird dreams. Still, it doesn’t explain what happened to me in the bathroom. I stand up and glance around setting my mind right for what I need to do before school. Mom’s yellow blanket slides to the floor in a heap—just the way I found it in Austria.

Déjà vu.

Bending over slowly, I pick it up, hold it to my face and close my eyes breathing in the scent. Mom’s face flashes in my mind’s eye. It’s as if she is right in front of me. She looks frightened...she’s crying. “Help me Cookie,” she begs. I could swear I feel her breath on my face. Then she’s gone. I open my eyes and let go of the blanket.

“Whoa! Bizarro world!”

My hands tremble as I retrieve the blanket and hold it to my face to see if it happens again. Nothing. I turn the blanket and get a whiff of something gross. I hold it a little closer to my nose. It reeks of some sort of chemical.

“Yuck, what is that?”

I sniff daintily and rotate the blanket to see if the smell is anywhere else. Just the one corner smells bad. It’s sort of like the disgusting spot remover Pop buys to get out grease.

Holding it at arms length, I say out loud, “I WILL you to tell me—through osmosis or something—what happened to Mom.” I stare at the blanket until my arm tingles as if it’s fallen asleep.

“Okay, this is dumb.”

I cautiously sniff the edge of the blanket and scrunch of my face. “Ewe, whatever that is, it’s beyond disgusting.” What if it's toxic or poisonous?

Holding it by the edge, I pinch my nose, and take it over to my laundry hamper. I stop in my tracks. Lying on the floor, mostly under my bed and by my foot, is the Advanced Chemistry Assignment paper Jimmy Beal gave me. Good thing I looked down because I missed seeing it under there. I pick it up with my free hand and read the subtitle aloud, “Forensic Science and the Crime Scene Investigation—101.”Oh my gosh, this could be evidence. Maybe even the missing clue to her investigation. Because––hello––Mom had this throw wrapped around her shoulder the day she disappeared. Wondering what to do next, I pinch the blanket between my fingertips and read the list of things to do at a crime scene.

1. Preserve the evidence for the lab.

The strange sensation in the pit of my stomach is telling me I’m onto something big. And my heart flutters as I carefully insert the throw in a clear plastic Space Bag, seal it up, and then slide it under my bed. Probably not a good idea to suck the air out with the vacuum. It might remove the substances.

I sprint to the bathroom and thoroughly scrub my face, arms and hands. I should probably scour my whole body, but I smell bacon cooking and I have to call Josh. I dry my hands and scurry back to my room. I consider working on my report, except breakfast has to be close to being ready. I slide on my watch. It's only 7:00. I stand in the middle of my room wondering if it's too early to call Josh. I need to find out what the smelly stuff is—

Call Josh's cell duh! Besides, Mr. O is a cop. Cops have forensic labs.

I get my cell and punch Josh’s saved cell number. It goes to message. “Drat!” Screw it! I dump my purse on my bed and find Officer O’Dell card. I key in their home number. Then I remember I already have it in my contacts. My brain is not working right.

“Hello, this is Barbara O'Dell. Who’s calling please?” She sounds stressed. I probably woke her up.

“Hi, um…Mrs. O’Dell. Um, this is Cookie…Cookie Blakely. Sorry to call so early, but is Josh there?”

“Oh, hello sweetheart. No, I get up early. Sorry to snap at you, but for the past few days I’ve been getting hang-up calls. Anyway, my goodness it was so good to see you again at your birthday party. We hadn’t seen you since the—”

Funeral, I think filling in her sentence.

She catches herself. “Um, hold on dear I’ll get Josh. I'll be just a minuet he's still up in his room.”

I wait for Josh to come to the phone and vivid images of my mother’s funeral flash through my mind’s eye. While the minister spoke, I glanced around at all the crowd standing around the burial area. There were hundreds and a helicopter overhead. Mrs. O’Dell caught my eye and smiled briefly. She was standing between Officer O’Dell and Josh. I was shocked that so many people came. It was like Mom was a rock star. Even with all the people around me, I felt so all alone. I remember thinking how lucky Josh was to have two parents alive. I would never have a normal family like that. Then I just passed out in front of the President of the United States and everyone there…

Mrs. O’Dell’s voice brings me out of my daydream. “Cookie, sorry…are you still there dear?”

“Um, yes I’m here,” I say, blinking back to the present.

“Josh is coming down stairs in a second, he’s dressing. He tells us you have a class together this year.”

“Yes, Crime Science. Um, it’s pretty cool.” I switch gears so I don’t forget to mention the gift card. “I just want to thank you and Mr. O’Dell so much for coming to my birthday and for the music gift card. I will put it to good use.”

“You’re most welcome. Your age is not easy to shop for. Anyway, we had a lovely time and the food was out of this world!” She hesitates. “Cookie…may I ask you a personal question?”

“Um sure.”

“I just wanted to say that I’m so very sorry about your mom. And even though I never had the privilege to get to know her I’m sure she was a wonderful mother.”

I bark a laugh. Wonderful mother? I close my eyes and my heart skips a beat. I don’t know what to say. I find my self chewing on a fingernail. Josh’s mother must think I’m loony tunes.

“It’s okay dear...I understand,” Mrs. O’Dell says softly. “I was only eleven when I lost my mother to cancer. I resented her for leaving me.”

I'm like, wow, I didn't know that.

She pauses. “Er, hold on dear Josh is here.”

I hear Josh say something to his mom about driving her car. Mrs. Odell says "Okay dear" and comes back on the phone. “Cookie, if there’s anything you need please don’t hesitate to call us. Here’s Josh. Good bye dear.”

I murmur, “Thank you. Um, good bye.” I could come by an get Josh, but I think maybe he'd rather take his own transportation. I hear more muted whispering then Josh finally comes on the phone.

Josh says, “Hey, sorry I didn’t call back.”

“It’s cool.” I take a deep breath. “How are you?”

“I had a weird reaction to something.”

“I heard. Do you feel well enough to talk about school work?”

“Actually I’m one hundred percent better. What’s up?”

I sit on the edge of my bed. “You may not know this...but I'm your new lab partner.”

“Yeah, Mason called and me last night.”

Josh laughs and I wonder what's so funny.

“Oh, are you and Robbie friends?”

“Not really. Robbie is okay, but he looks like he fell into a tackle box face first. Just that I’m not into body adornments. I was laughing because he made me go with him last weekend to check out getting his new nose spike. Did he have it in?”

I giggle. “Oh yeah. Mr. J pointed at it and said, ‘that had to hurt'.” Robbie was like, yeah like a mother fu...” I giggle again. “He almost dropped an f-bomb? I'm thinking not a good idea around Mr. J.”

Josh laughs again. “Truly. Hey, bet you're glad you don’t have to sit next to Beal. He's a brain, but there’s something seriously wrong with that boy.”

“Tell me about it. Oh yeah, I was thrilled that Mr. Jackson noticed him bugging me and let me move. So…how cool is it that we're lab partners?”

“Totally cool,” Josh says, trying to sound like a Valley Girl.

I roll my eyes and see the assignment paper lying on the bed reminding me why I called Josh in the first place. “Um, Josh, I have something important to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re probably going to think I’ve lost it but I’m going to say it anyway because I think you will…”

I let my sentence fade because all of a sudden I’m having second thoughts. Is Pop right? Should I let sleeping dogs lie?

After a pregnant pause, Josh asks, “You think I will what?”

I make a fist and pound my bed. Just say it!

“Josh, I want you and me to investigate my mom’s death. I mean for Mr. Jackson’s first assignment.” I hold my breath and wait for his reaction.

Josh hesitates and blows out a long breath. “Wow, Cookie, I don’t know what to say. I thought the F.B.I. was on it…”

I feel my face heat up and my Irish temper kick in. “Yeah, for nine freaking months they’ve supposedly been ‘on it’ and they won’t tell us anything! And according to Agent Werthoust, it’s all hush-hush so he can't. Or won't. Just say you’ll help me because I’m going to do this no matter what you say.”

“Okay,” Josh says defensively. “Sounds as if you’ve made up your mind.”

“Thank you!”

Yes! I stand up and picture my second favorite scene in Brave Heart where Wallace is rallying his army. My favorite is the mooning scene. Something about men in skirts.

“Who’s this Agent Werthoust?”

“Agent Werthoust was my Mom’s boss and I’m pretty sure he’s the main man in charge of her investigation. I don’t trust him. Something is wrong Josh and I have to find out what it is. I deserve to know how and why she died!”

Josh says, “But I thought the media said she died of natural causes.”

I raise my voice. “Who can believe them? Half the time they just parrot what their told or read on the Internet! When is the last time you heard or read good investigative reporting? And even if Mom did die of natural causes, I have a right to know what happened that day. Josh, there are too many unanswered questions!”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Josh says. “When do you want to get together?”

“Sorry…so you’ll help me do this?”

“Of course,” he says. “I live for this stuff.”

“So. See you at school?”

“Of course.” Josh pauses. “Cookie, I was just thinking. Um, I have stuff to take care of Saturday, but do you wanna get together Sunday and really dig into this project?”

“Uh, Sunday? Sure,” I say shocked at how enthusiastic Josh is about helping me. I really like him, and the thought of spending the day with him no matter what we do seems great.

Josh says, “I just have to go to Mass with my folks but after lunch I’m free.”

Mass? Right. Josh has to wonder why we don’t go to the Catholic Church any more. “When ever you can make it over is fine.”

Josh says, “Let’s plan for around one-ish?”

“Okay, perfect…thanks Josh, see you at school.”

“Bye.”

Totally, syked, I click off and rush around tossing everything in my purse.

Pop calls up the stairs, “Cookie, come eat!” The awesome smell of bacon and fresh coffee drift through the air vents.

“Coming!” I call out the door. I pick up the ice pack and I move toward the stairs with my school bag and stuff. My entire body feels numb and achy from the lack of sound sleep. As I clump downstairs, random thoughts of the past nine months flow through my mind. I take out my Crime Science notebook and a pen, and drop my stuff next to the front door. I have to get my ducks in a row before Josh comes over. I figure I’ll get my second wind after eating. I hope.