Chapter Fifteen
EMPTINESS
“It was a wonder you found her when you did, Agent Langley.”
My eyes open slowly, hesitantly, painfully as they slowly adjust to the light and take in the figures standing in the room. We’re back at Madame Duguay’s and I’m on the couch in the living room, swathed in two heavy woolen blankets and what feels like a clean set of clothes.
“Well, as I said,” says the man with the scar on his face, the man my uncle referred to as “Agent Langley”, “we’ve been tracking those two for quite some time now.”
“How long exactly?” comes Troy’s voice from across the room.
“About three years.”
Uncle Marty sounds surprised. “Three years? That’s quite awhile...”
A fleeting change in his expression suggests Agent Langley is somewhat perturbed by the remark. Nonetheless, he maintains his composure. “It’s difficult when you’ve got antique smugglers like those two constantly crossing international borders. It’s hard to pin them down - ”
“ - and when we do, we can’t always arrest them because they aren’t in a friendly jurisdiction,” interrupts the pretty female agent I’d seen on the beach when I was carried out of the cave.
“I only wish I would have arrived on the scene ten minutes earlier,” says Agent Langley, quashing a fist into his hand. “I’d have caught them.”
Uncle Marty clicks his tongue. “You did what you could...you saved Sarah.” His attention drifts over to me and his eyes widen. “Sarah! You’re awake!”
He’s at my side in an instant, stroking my forehead and making sure the blankets cover me properly.
“I was so worried. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
I look at him, tears filling my eyes. “Josh...”
Uncle Marty sighs, a heavy sigh, and a single tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away and strokes my forehead once more. “There’s a dive team going to look for him tomorrow.”
I turn away, unable to look at my uncle any longer. My eyes find Troy. He’s standing in the corner talking in hushed whispers with Madame Duguay.
“I’ve already sent an e-mail to your parents and I expect a reply shortly.”
I nod, still avoiding my uncle’s gaze. I stare at the ceiling, tilting my head back so my tears won’t spill over.
“This is...” Madame Duguay’s tone is sad and mournful, “une tragédie.”
There’s silence now. A gnawing, biting, uncomfortable silence that I wish would go away. But then, I have nothing to say, and neither apparently do Troy or Uncle Marty.
It’s the female agent who finally breaks the silence. “We’re going to go now, but we’ll be back tomorrow to update you with any new developments. Also,” her eyes fall on mine, “we’re going to want to talk to you at some point, Sarah. We’d like to know exactly what happened (the tears come fast now) so that we can catch these guys.”
Agent Langley murmurs his agreement.
“Thank you, both of you,” says Uncle Marty, his voice sincere.
The two agents give us a nod and Madame Duguay opens the door for them, chattering away in French with the female agent as they all step outside.
The door closes behind them, leaving the rest of us in cold and empty silence.
I close my eyes, not wanting to take part in any further discussion. I still can’t believe this is happening. My brother is actually...dead. Drowned. Trapped underwater in some stinking hole. And all because of some treasure...
An intense surge of anger courses through me and I vow to kill Mika and Ludwig if I ever see them again.
They’d better have left the country...
I unclench my fists and try to reassume normal breathing.
“This is absolutely terrible, Monsieur Rosenberg,” says Madame Duguay quietly as she returns a minute later and shuts the door behind her.
“I know...I know...and I’m sorry we have to put you and Armand through this - ”
“Nonsense! Monsieur Rosenberg, you are our guests and we grieve for Josué as you do.”
“Thank you.”
The woman clicks her tongue in disgust as she makes her way to the kitchen. “Poor Sarah...she may never recover from this...”
I hear a heavy sigh from Uncle Marty as he follows her into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps slow and heavy on the hardwood floor. “Yes...I know.”
“She’s so young...to lose a sibling at that age...” There’s a pause. “I’ll make us some tea. Would you like some tea, Troy?”
“Thank you, Madame Duguay. That would be great.”
A second later I hear the sound of the tap running.
“We’ll take her to the doctor’s tomorrow,” I hear Uncle Marty say. “She’ll need some time to mend before we can head hope...I hope that’s alright we continue to stay here, Madame Duguay.”
“Of course, of course. Don’t even ask. You just take care of your family now.”
Uncle Marty makes a sound. “Take care of my family is what I should have been doing all along...my brother and his wife will never forgive me...they trusted me with their two children and look what’s happened...” I hear his voice break and suddenly I want to cry.
“There, there, shhhh,” comes Madame Duguay’s voice.
Listening from the couch in the living room, I wipe my eyes, surprised I’ve still got tears to shed.
“He was...only fifteen!” Uncle Marty sobs.
And this is where I have to leave. Right now. Like right this second, since I can’t stand to be around all this sadness.
I throw off my blankets and head outside, letting the front door bang loudly shut behind me. Pounding down the steps, I ignore the fact I’m in sock feet.
Troy calls out to me as I’m halfway down the driveway. “Sarah!”
I stop and turn around. “What?”
His hands rest on his hips and he’s got a look on his face that says, “where are you going? I know this is difficult for you.”
“Sarah...”
When I don’t answer, but hang my head, he trots down the steps and comes toward me.
“Sarah.”
“What?”
He looks sad and sorry and I feel bad I can’t give him a smile.
“I can’t do this...”
Troy looks at me. “You can’t do what?”
“This,” I repeat, pointing at the ground. “All this...bullshit. Everyone crying and Uncle Marty sobbing like that in there - I can’t do it, Troy.”
“Sarah, no one’s asking you to do anything.”
“Well...” I look at him, feeling completely lost and helpless, my eyes flooding with tears again as my anger subsides. “Troy...my brother...”
Troy’s bottom lip starts to quiver and now he looks like he too is about to cry. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”
The tears stream down my cheeks and I can’t recall having ever felt this terrible. Ever. At all. In my entire life.
But then Troy hugs me, a comforting hug. A hug that quashes all the messed up, depressed thoughts swirling around inside my head. And for a moment, for this one, special moment, I forget how terrible I feel.