The Vampire Agent 4: Patricia

Rachel Boyd is a 55-year-old mother of four grown children. She gave birth to her first when she was 24. Their father, Mark Boyd, was five years older than she and the professed love of her life. Their courtship was little more than three months in before their first pregnancy. Rachel was a girl who loved New York’s nightlife, hard rock music, intoxicants of every kind, and she had a fondness for bad boys. Mark was a gainfully employed construction worker and a bad boy. He liked many of the same things as Rachel, and he adored her. He and Rachel married four months before the birth of their first child and proceeded to have three more kids over the next nine years. Three years after the birth of their youngest child, Mark Boyd was killed during a brawl over money in the parking lot of a lounge. Rachel was so heartbroken over her loss that she fell into a deep depression. It was more than a year after Mark’s passing that her mood began to brighten, but she never remarried. Her newfound single existence was more a matter of circumstances than choice. Four kids and her fading good looks did not attract the type of suitor she was inclined to accept.

After Mark’s death, Rachel spent the bulk of her time providing for her four children with little help from her own divorced parents. The three-bedroom Bronx house she inherited from Mark simplified the task of providing a home for her children, but food, clothing and insurance made it necessary for her to find a job. Finding work was never a difficult task for her when she was younger. In between pregnancies, she occasionally worked as a nightclub waitress and hostess to fill in for Mark’s inconsistent income as a heavy equipment operator. Pretty, petite and possessing an attractive figure, clubs were usually quick to hire her. After Mark’s death, work became a necessity, and she went about it with a fair amount of diligence. Having a good time was still high on her list of things to do, and several male companions came and went throughout the years.

At the age of 41, the club where she worked went out of business. By this time, her declining looks and expansive figure made finding nightclub work difficult. Eventually, she settled on a job as a grocery store clerk. She lapsed, at times, at being a good provider for her children, but she never completely faltered at the task. Her many friends, both male and female, were as helpful to her in her efforts as she was in return to them whenever she could. Over the years, she pushed through life, love and responsibilities with tears and gaiety whenever motivated. One Friday morning when the mood in Rachel’s home started out bright and cheerful, something suddenly changed the atmosphere to somber and frightening.

Ryan, Rachel’s youngest child, had recently left the house for work. Rachel had just gotten out of bed and was still in her robe and nightgown as she prepared her breakfast. Her cellphone was on the kitchen counter in speakerphone mode as she listened to Katelyn, a longtime friend, regale her with gossip concerning a mutual acquaintance when her front doorbell rang.

“One moment, Kate,” Rachel said in the middle of her discourse. “Somebody is at the door.”

Rachel had no idea who could be at her door. Even though it was late in the morning, nearly half past eleven, she was still unaccustomed to people coming to her home at that hour uninvited. She did not have a close acquaintance with any of her neighbors. She frequently greeted them in passing, but she usually did not say more than that. This indifference was mostly due to the many changes in names and faces in the neighborhood over the years. Rachel saw little need to associate with newcomers who might move out in a few months or years. Many of the homes in the community were leased, not purchased. Rachel had been living in her three-bedroom house for the past thirty years.

“Who is it?” Rachel asked from behind the door.

A male voice on the other side of the door responded that he had a delivery for Ryan. Rachel was not surprised to hear that. She knew her youngest child frequently purchased novelty items sold online. Without giving the report a second thought, she unlocked the door and began to pull it open when the door was shoved from the other side. A gruff looking man suddenly forced his way in, causing a startled Rachel to fall back against the wall.

“What?” Rachel nearly shouted.

“Shut up!” The intruder quickly ordered with a warning figure in her face.

Just as the first intruder gave that command, a second male intruder stepped across the threshold in a hurry to shut the door behind him. Both men were white and looked to be in their mid-thirties. Their expressions and manner seemed quite hostile, and they wore roughly casual attire.

“Where is Jimmie?” The first intruder commanded as the second intruder hurried deeper into the house.

Rachel watched the second intruder as he searched through her house. She started to ask a question, but her words were quickly overpowered by the first intruder.

“I’m asking the questions.”

Rachel turned her full attention toward the man in front of her. Anger quickly replaced her panic. They were looking for her eldest child, and that meant they were not there to do harm to her. Their intrusion into her home was now stoking her temper. She shoved her way past the first man and took a stance in the middle of her living room so that she could better see what the second intruder was doing. She watched him go into and come out of the kitchen before racing up the stairs to the bedrooms. Her expression transformed into a look of rage, and then she yelled at the second intruder.

“Get out of my house.”

The first intruder followed Rachel into the center of the living room and positioned himself in front of her. Despite his angry expression, it was clear to her that he was reluctant to put his hands on her, and that added more fuel to her defiance. She returned his angry stare.

“Jimmie owes Luka money, and we’re here to collect,” the first intruder hissed into her face.

Seconds later, the second intruder hurried down the stairs, across the living room, back into the kitchen and down the stairs to the basement. Rachel’s chest was heaving with anger as she watched him race through.

“Who is Luka?” Rachel thundered, turning back to the first intruder.

“Luka is someone that Jimmie should not piss off,” and, if he’s hiding from us, that would be a big mistake, too,” the first intruder responded with finality.

Seconds later, the second intruder raced up from the basement and into the living room with his report.

“He’s not here.”

“You need to get out of my house before I call the police,” Rachel yelled at both men.

“You’re not calling the police,” the first intruder countered. “Not if you want to keep that boy of yours out of prison.”

That remark took Rachel by surprise, and she paused to consider it. The first intruder took advantage of the hesitation and quickly educated her on the $48,000 her son, James, owes to Luka. He did not explain how James incurred the debt or exactly who Luka was. He explained that the interest would raise the debt to $54,000 by the end of next week.

“Tell Jimmie, Luka wants his money,” the first intruder said. “He needs to stop hiding and cough up some money,” he continued in a soft voice. “Even if it’s just the interest,” he added almost sympathetically. “But if we have to find him and he ain’t got the money, it’s going to hurt,” he nearly whispered into her face, “a lot.”

The two men were almost smiling as they left the house. Rachel watched in shock as the two men left her house. For nearly a minute, she was too confused to move from the center of the living room. The claim that her son, James, could go to prison for some unknown crime had her too frightened to call the police. Protecting her children was instinctive for her, but James was in a category above the others.

Rachel’s first-born was always the dearest to her heart. James was born at the height of her love for Mark, when the thought of a child was new and exciting. He was the gift that she and Mark gave to each other. From the first moment she held him in her arms, her adoration for her first child existed without bounds. None of her other children came into the world with the same degree of marvel and devotion. From birth, James was pampered, and it was not in Rachel’s makeup to be any less protective of him now.

Rachel was in a panic to find a way to protect James that did not involve him going to prison. After about a minute of thought, she rushed into the kitchen and took her cellphone in hand. Kate was still holding on the line waiting with questions about the muffled voices she heard through the phone. Rachel dismissed her questions and hurriedly ended the call. She rushed to call James’ cellphone number that went directly to his voicemail without a ring. Rachel left a desperate plea for her son to call her back. After disconnecting the call, she dialed him again and again. Each call went directly to his voicemail. The fourth call she made went to Karen.

Karen Boyd Meyer, Rachel’s second child, arrived at the house in the middle of the afternoon. Rachel was fully dressed by then and had been out of the house and back. She was scheduled to go to work today but called in sick so that she could meet with her daughter.

“He hasn’t answered your calls?” Karen softly demanded.

Karen’s children, five-year-old Pamela, and three-year-old Jefferey were in the living room watching a cartoon. Karen abandoned them there and went up to her mother’s bedroom so that she could express herself with whatever verbiage she felt inclined to use. She arrived armed with accusations and curses stored up over the many years she spent resenting her older brother.

“I haven’t seen or heard from him for more than a week,” Rachel answered in dismay. “I don’t know where he is.”

“We need to call the police,” Karen returned in alarm.

“No,” Rachel countered in panic. “I’m not going to risk sending James to prison.”

Rachel brought Karen up to speed on the conversation she had with the intruders, but that report had no effect on Karen. She considered the threat a bluff and expressed that belief to her mother. She counseled Rachel against getting involved in James’ life and implored her to leave James to get himself out of his own mess.

“They’re going to kill him,” Rachel yelled at her daughter. “I’m not going to let that happen. Not if I can do something to stop it. Now, how much can you give me?”

In the call to Karen that morning, Rachel asked her daughter for money to help pay down James’ debt. Her request was not well received, but Karen promised to bring what she could. She detested her older brother, but she loved her mother. It was clear to Karen from the beginning that Rachel was desperate to intervene on James’ behalf, and the call to her for money was proof of that. Now that James was likely insolvent, she was the only child left who had money to spare.

Karen is 27 years old, two years younger than James. In her eagerness to be out of her mother’s house, she married at the age of 20. Her husband, Frank Meyer, is three years older than her and works as a computer systems analyst. Their relationship officially began when Karen was 18, but their association went back to when she was 14. A few weeks before they married, they put a down payment on a house in Queens that they are still making payments on. Karen worked as a dental assistant up until the birth of their first child, and then transitioned into a full-time housewife thereafter. Being a wife and mother was all she ever wanted to be, and the strong probability that she could become one with Frank was, for her, his most attractive feature. His income offered her the chance to live in the home of her dreams, and it made her Rachel's most financially secure offspring.

“I don’t have $48,000, Mom,” Karen flatly stated. “You can’t raise that much money in less than a week.”

Rachel quickly pulled a stack of hundred dollar bills out of her purse and held it out for Karen to see.

“I took this out of my savings. I’ve got seventeen thousand.”

Rachel followed this declaration with the argument that they did not have to raise the full forty-eight thousand. She argued that they only needed enough to pay down the debt and buy James some time. Rachel knew her argument was desperate, but it was all she had. She was convinced that James was in mortal danger. That was the only rational thought she had that could explain why he was hiding.

Karen was surprised to see that her mother had saved that much money, and she was annoyed by the sight of it. She understood her mother’s desire to pay down the debt, but she had a feeling her mother expected her to produce the bulk of that partial payment. That was a quantity of money she could easily argue against. The fact that her mother had so much money in hand meant that she only had to produce a fraction of that amount to satisfy her. That was the most she was prepared to do on her own for James, but Karen was doubtful that her husband, Frank, would even allow that.

“I can give you a few hundred,” Karen returned dejectedly.

Rachel was disheartened to hear her daughter offer such a small amount, but she was reluctant to challenge her for more. The evidence of trouble within her marriage to Frank was well marked with small signs laid out across the past couple of years. Rachel knew that Frank did not like her or any of her other children, and the feeling was mutual. In private, she frequently referred to Frank as a snobbish prick. It was obvious to Rachel that Frank shared her daughter’s ambition to distance himself from his upbringing in the Bronx, and that he despised anyone who continued to live there. Frank’s tendency toward a haughty demeanor was the link he shared with Karen.

Rachel agreed to accept whatever sum of money Karen could produce, and she was only mildly surprised to learn that her daughter did not have it on her at that time. It became clear at that moment that her daughter was planning not to provide any money for this effort. Rachel knew she would have collected the money before coming there if that had been her intent. But this was no inconvenience for Rachel. She had already called her youngest child at work and made the same request to him. She expected Ryan home from work after another two hours and anticipated he would need another day to withdraw what he could spare from his bank. Karen’s delay was in line with Ryan’s and there was still the matter of contacting James.

“If we’re going to do this, Mom, then I think we all should be involved.”

Rachel was not expecting to hear Karen suggest that they call her twenty-two-year-old daughter. She thought it likely that her youngest daughter would be in debt and not in possession of any money that she could spare. That was why she did not make the call herself.

“Well,” Karen prodded.

“Okay, call Patricia.”