The next morning, I texted Igraine an awkward message to see if there was anything I needed to be updated on. I got a simple “No.”

After two days, I called Camelot again and asked to speak with Bernard. I told him I would prefer to speak to Mrs. Camelot about the matter, but as usual he was an effective gatekeeper.

So, I told him no one had seen or heard from Miss Avalon in forty-eight hours and that I presumed she was deceased.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she was cursed.”

He laughed, and I snapped.

“Listen up, I can’t tell you where she is, but if she is dead, her body will not be in good condition. She’ll have been eaten by,” I was about to say moths, but to a guy like Bernard it would be a punch line, “bugs.”

He didn’t laugh, although he probably still thought it was absurd. “I thought she was free of the curse. Care was taken to make sure her package was delivered successfully.”

I explained the effect of the second curse.

“Are you saying that if we had stopped her that she would still be alive?”

“She would have still needed to do something horrible. Probably even worse.”

“Mr. Krelig, I don’t say this lightly. But if we find Miss Avalon’s body in such a manner as described, we shall hold you accountable.”

He ended the call. I wasn’t sure what he meant by holding me accountable. Whether it would be somehow implicating me to the police, or some sort of civil action, or just making my life worse in general.

With no other cases, I typed up the bill for my services and sent it to Camelot.

Days later, I received a personal visit from Mrs. Camelot in my office. I would imagine the only offices she ever visits are the premier doctors and lawyers of the city. She looked at my small office suite as if it were a college dorm room. Instead of a stack of pizza boxes, there were piles of books that couldn’t find any room on the overcrowded shelves.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I asked her if there was any news on Avalon.

“That is why I am here, Mr. Krelig. Our arrangement was for you to tell me about Avalon. I heard nothing and then received a bill.”

The amount she owed couldn’t have been a concern. She was probably upset she owed anything at all.

“Mrs. Camelot, are you trying to get out of your bill?”

“You did not hold up your end of the arrangement.”

“I had been in contact with Bernard.”

“He says otherwise. I asked him myself when he showed me the bill. And now I learn that Avalon is missing. You have made a terrible mess of this, Mr. Krelig.”

I could see two reasons why Bernard didn’t want to admit he talked to me. One of them being he didn’t want to tell her about the kidnapping. The other was he wanted to make my life difficult.

“The police will be taking over now, Mr. Krelig. And you will not be paid.”

She stamped her foot and walked out of my office. Her driver slammed the door for her.

I could have cared less about Mrs. Camelot or what she thought of me. In all of this, what I really wanted to know was what happened to Avalon.

I kept looking for clues to help me walk through her final hours.

The local news filled in the gaps about her role in the kidnapping. The family were tourists from out of town. The parents got distracted and took their eyes off the boy for a split second. The surveillance videos of the crime released by police didn’t capture any details of Avalon.

But I still couldn’t trace her steps after what was caught on video. Who did she deliver the boy to, and where did that handoff occur? What happened after the handoff? Why hadn’t she called or contacted us? And who had Bernard gone to for help?

I had no intention of billing this extra to Mrs. Camelot. I wasn’t doing it for her. I was doing it because Avalon deserved better, because no one else would do the honest work, and for Igraine.

After weeks of parents panicking over a random kidnapper lurking in the shadows, the police announced that it was “an isolated incident” and that there was “no threat to the public at large.” When pushed by the press, the police issued a statement that they considered the case closed. The family also released a statement asking for the public to “respect their privacy after a terrible and confusing ordeal.” The media switched its coverage to the stunning new story about an anonymous tell-all account of Mrs Camelot’s nephew, including the salacious details of his promiscuous life and the ruin of everyday people caused by his abuse of privilege.

I recognized Bernard’s work with the Camelots’ money behind the cover-up and I assumed he was the one who threw Mrs. Camelot’s own kin to the wolves as a way to keep the media from discovering the bigger scandal. That one of the Camelots was a member of a cult, and they had a child no one knew about who had abducted a child in broad daylight.

Or maybe Bernard went to these lengths just to shield his role in all this. It could be both.

It was clear that if I wanted to go through the case, I couldn’t go through the man. I’d have to find a way around him. And that was going to take time.

—Viktor Krelig