The Orphanage By The Lake by Daniel G. Miller

Author:Daniel G. Miller [Miller, Daniel G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

For the next fifteen minutes, I try to go back to sleep, but it’s not happening after Madeline’s surprise visit. I tell myself not to dwell on her impertinence, but something about that woman crawls under my skin. My head aches at the thought of her.

Six days.

I curse Madeline in my mind. It’s hard enough to find a missing girl, period, let alone with some arbitrary deadline hanging over your head. I think of Mia and how she deserves so much more than this pill of a godmother. Then I think of what my mom used to tell me in Korean, growing up: “Ha-neul”—that’s my Korean name—“it’s better to get beaten by the whip first.” Looking back, it was a strange phrase to say to a child, but it meant that if you’re going to have to endure something painful, it’s better to just get it over with. Fortunately, my mom never beat me with an actual whip, just steady helpings of guilt and displays of disappointment.

I grab Kenny’s leftover pajeon and pop open my laptop on the card table. Hopefully the pancakes can absorb some of the alcohol rotting in my stomach. With a mouthful of pajeon, I type Dionysus Theater into the browser bar. The first thirty search results cover the Theater of Dionysus, which is an ancient theater in the Acropolis in Athens. I skim the history of the theater, which seems like any other theater. Until I see two words that shake me: ritual sacrifice. The theater hosted sacrifices every year as part of the spring festival of the god Dionysus. Not a festival I’d like to attend.

I know full well that this is not the theater I’m looking for, but the more I learn about Dionysus and the traditions that surround him—ritual sacrifice, hedonism, madness, frenzy, ecstasy—the more I’m certain that someone lured Mia into something sinister. In my business, I’ve found that symbols matter. What people choose for their car, their passwords, their screen names, their brand provide a window into who they truly are.

I keep scrolling through the search results, realizing that whoever selected this name for their theater was brilliant. The search results are so dominated by the theater in Athens that whatever this underground Dionysus Theater is can exist in virtual anonymity. On the fortieth search result, I find something different. There’s a group called the Dionysus Theatre Company in Connecticut. For a moment, my heart skips at the thought that this might be something. But I’m quickly disappointed as I look at the Facebook page of the group, which is littered with pictures of middle-aged folks performing A Doll’s House or Hamlet. It’s just a nice little theater troupe in Vernon, Connecticut. I highly doubt that they’re abducting little girls.

I keep searching and keep hitting dead ends. I’m losing hope when I find a Reddit thread entitled “Dionysus Theater? Been? Heard of it? Know anyone there?” The post is from a month ago and has only one reply: an address.

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