The Family Tree: a psychological thriller

by S. K. Grice

  “So how do you like being back in this part of town?” Jackson said as he walked back into the room. He handed me a glass of ruby colored wine. “Remind you of the old days?”

  I took the wine and snickered. Jackson himself reminded me of the old days more than he realized. “Speaking of the old times, I don’t know if you remember seventeen years ago—”

  He fell back into the space next to me on the sofa with a beer can in hand. “Oh, man. Seventeen years? I was a wild kid back then.”

  “Do you remember selling Annette some acid one Summer? Back when we were in college?”

  “The purple haze?” His eyes brightened. “Hell yeah, I remember. There was a big supply of it going around for a couple of years. I sold about a dozen sheets. Made some ridiculous cash.”

  “Did you ever try any yourself?”

  “Damn right I did. Acid like that only comes around once in a lifetime.” He put his hands up. “Not that I’m doing that shit anymore.”

  “So, that was a rare batch? I only ever did acid that one time. I have nothing to compare it to.”

  “That acid, my friend, was some potent shit. Like, each blotter had an extra milligram in it. And the high….” He flicked his hand in the air. “Whoosh. It took me away to different worlds.”

  “Do you remember everything that happened while you were on it—I mean, tripping? What did you remember afterwards?”

  Jackson rubbed the stubble along his jaw then nodded. “I remember hanging out with Johnny Fasio and Richard Miller one time—”

  “Wait. Nancy’s Richard?” I didn’t recall him being part of the crowd from this part of town back then.

  “Yeah. Anyway, we’d each taken a blotter. After a half hour, we got impatient. So, we each took another half. Then, it hit us hard. Boom!” He made an exploding hand gesture next to his head. “We laughed our asses off all day. Everything was beautiful. I loved that shit.”

  “So, the acid you guys took was from the same batch that you sold Annette?”

  “Absolutely.” He moved closer and casually ran his fingertip along my arm. His eyes met mine, and he grinned like we shared a secret. “You said you did some. What was it like for you?”

  Cringing at his touch, I set my wine glass on the coffee table and scooted away a few inches, hoping he’d get the message that I wasn’t interested. “It was surreal. The hallucinations…incredible. I can still remember the crazy colors and images Annette and I saw.”

  Jackson sat back and sighed with a smile. “Ahhh, Annette. All the dudes at school had it bad for her at some point.”

  “Did you?”

  “Nah.” He winked at me. “I had a thing for you.”

  I picked up my wine glass and laughed, like I didn’t notice his flirting. “See—my thing back then was to get the hell out of this town. And look where I am. Still here.”

  He raised his beer in a toast. “Cheers to that. It’s great having you here.”

  Matching his toast, I took a big gulp of wine. “Hey, speaking of the old stuff, heard anything new on Mike Morton’s disappearance?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Not much. I know his family is really hurting and getting desperate to find him.”

  My gut twisted. I didn’t like being reminded that Mike had family who cared, but I needed to press on for information. “So, what about the psychic you were talking about last time I saw you? Is she giving the police any useful information?”

  “I dunno. You’d think the $50,000 reward would have brought something out.”

  I sank into the sofa. “No kidding. I wonder if police have been getting any calls.”

  “Who knows?” Jackson said. “Probably from a bunch of crazies hopin’ for an easy buck. Turning sideways to face me, he rested his bent knee on the sofa and leaned closer. “You know…” his voice had lowered, like he was telling me a secret, “Mike went missing around the same time I was dealing that acid I sold Annette. I even sold him some.”

  My heart jumped. The acid. Mike’s disappearance. Had Jackson put two and two together? “What do you mean?”

  His smile faded. “It’s just—I sold it to him a few days before he went missing. I hope he didn’t overdose and get into trouble. I mean, the guy was an asshole, but… I do wonder what the hell happened to him. It’s like the earth just swallowed him up.”

  I flinched. “A lot of people are wondering the same thing.”

  Jackson looked to the ceiling. “You know what I remember about that summer? The cicadas. Never heard ‘em hiss so fucking loud.” He lowered his gaze to me. “Remember that?”

  “Yeah. I do.” But my ears were tuned into something else at the moment. Crunching noises outside the window behind me. Footsteps. I caught my breath and turned. Thick dark curtains covered the windows. Rustling of leaves. Buddy lifted his head and looked at the door. The dog whimpered.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose. “Is someone here?”

  Jackson rolled onto his knees on the sofa and pulled aside the curtain. Floodlights lit up the overgrown shrubbery and leaf-littered lawn. My car sat in the driveway.

  He opened the curtain wider and scanned the front of the house. “I don’t see nothin’. You probably heard a raccoon or a fox.” He shut the curtains and sat back.

  “I guess I’ve been living in suburbia too long,” I said. I forgot about the animal noises in the forest.”

  He patted my shoulder. “You can relax. You’re safe with me.”

  I picked at my nails and my senses pumped into overdrive. The stale smells, the worn leather sofa, the unorganized mess—it swirled around me, making me nauseous. I considered calling off the movie and going home. “I’ll get used to the sounds again.”

  “Hey. If you need to chillax, I’ve got some killer kush.”

  I shook my head. Pot and paranoia didn’t mix with my biochemistry. “I’ll pass. Thanks for the offer.”

  “How about a foot rub?” He nudged me. “I’m told I’m the best.”

  “Let’s stop with the touchy-feely stuff, okay?” He wasn’t forcing anything, but he needed to know flirting with me was a dead-end street.

  He shrugged then picked up the remote. “Fast and Furious?”

  “Sure.” He played the movie and my mind wandered to the reward. Fifty thousand dollars. Fuck. I remembered what Noah had said to me. Someone knows what happened.

  It was 10:37 p.m. when I got home from Jackson’s house. Melissa was stretched out on the sofa in the living room, reading the latest Nora Roberts paperback. Grateful to have her back, I felt tension I hadn’t known I’d held melting off my shoulders and back. “Hey, you’re home early. Quiet night at Ocean Joe’s?”

  Melissa sat up and tossed the book on the coffee table. “The new manager put too many people on the roster. I decided to take the night off and keep you company. Been home over an hour. Where’ve you been?”

  I fell back into the armchair. “I ran into Jackson at the Mini-mart and he invited me to his place to kick back and watch a movie.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s the good ol’ boy doing?”

  “I’d say he’s doing fine. This was the first time I really sat down and talked with him in years.”

  “What about his sword collection? Kind of creepy, huh?”

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “Who hasn’t? He loves showing it off.”

  “It’s confronting. I’ll say that.”

  “Was Nancy there?”

  “What? No. Wouldn’t she be home with her husband and their boys?”

  “Doubt it.” Melissa stood with a grunt. “Never can tell with Nancy.”

  She held up her empty wine glass. “I’m getting a refill. Get you one?”

  The Xanax in my pocket came to mind. “Sure.”

  “Don’t get up.” Melissa patted my shoulder. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here and giving me a deal on the rent. The least I can do is get you a glass of wine.”

  “Thanks for that.” I fell back into the armc
hair. I’d forgotten the cheapo bottle of Shiraz from the Mini-mart in my car. I’d have to share that with Melissa tomorrow. Contentment settled on my shoulders, and I rolled my neck. I had a home. Friends.

  “Here we go.” Melissa handed me a wine glass filled to the rim. “It’s a Sauvignon Blanc I found on sale up at the BiLo.”

  I popped the pill into my mouth and gulped it down with the crisp wine. “Delish.”

  “Did Jackson mention anything about Nancy?” Melissa sat back on the sofa and put her feet up on the whitewashed coffee table.

  I curled my legs under me. “No. Why?”

  “I think Jackson and Nancy are having an affair,” Melissa said in a low voice, as if someone might hear.

  “Seriously? Why do you think that?”

  “She spends a lot of time with him. Does that sound like something a married woman does?”

  “They’ve known each other for a long time. Could it be they’re just friends?”

  Melissa giggled. “Nancy is obsessed with Jackson. They’ve been hooking up off and on for years.”

  I’d seen Nancy act protective and attentive toward Jackson on that night at Ocean Joe’s. Flirting. She definitely hadn’t liked Jackson giving me any attention. “And Richard… is he aware of all this?”

  “He’s an idiot, but he ain’t that stupid. He’d have to know something.”

  “I always thought Richard and Jackson were friends.”

  “Oh, hell no. Richard had a falling out with Jackson a long time ago. Before he and Nancy got married. Something about a girl they both liked. Back before Richard and Nancy got married. Richard can’t stand Jackson. He’d be crushed if he ever found out Nancy was seeing him behind his back.”

  I took another drink of wine. Gossiping about Nancy’s personal life felt uncomfortable. How could I know if what Melissa had said was true? Besides, I had more exciting things happening. “Guess what—I have my child custody hearing in a couple of days.” I held up crossed fingers. “I’m hoping to get my rights back.”

  Melissa’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s right.” She pressed her hands into a praying pose. “Tell me all about that.”

  “I have a good feeling.” Getting my children back was one of the few situations I did feel good about.

  “I hope it works out for you.” She sat back and sighed. “I always hoped to have children.”

  I saw the longing in her face. Soon after high school, Melissa had married a rat-faced guy from Kentucky. It had lasted a few years—until he’d up and left her for ‘no damn good reason,’ as she’d put it. She’d stayed single all these years since then, and with the free-spirited lifestyle she liked to live, I’d thought that was exactly how she liked it. “You still have time.”

  “I need a man first. A responsible man. If you can tell me where to find one of those….” She groaned then took a swig of her wine.

  Her cell phone lit up and pinged on the coffee table. She picked it up and read the screen. “Shit. This isn’t good.”

  “What?”

  “My Aunt Kelly in Richmond. Every time she calls me, there’s a problem. I need to give her a call.” She stood and went into the kitchen.

  I laid my head back on the headrest, grateful that I had a friend like Melissa. I knew she’d had a rough upbringing with her alcoholic mom and no dad. But even at school when we’d been growing up, she’d always been upbeat, a go-with-the flow kind of person. I hoped she’d find someone to settle down with one day. Someone who appreciated her.

  Melissa returned to the living room. “Looks like my aunt needs someone to stay with her for a couple of days, so I’m going to head out to Richmond early in the morning.” She narrowed her eyes. “You going to be okay while I’m gone?”

  My muscles tensed and I picked at the grime I felt under my nails. Alone in the house? It had to happen eventually. “Of course. Your aunt—is she going to be all right?”

  “Yeah.” Her tone turned melancholy. “Her Parkinson’s is getting worse. Nothing anyone can do about that.”

  Tightness gripped my chest. My own mother. If she were alive, she’d be close to sixty years old. Though Melissa’s aunt was pushing eighty, I realized at this moment how I’d never have an older family member who needed my care.

  I didn’t want to be alone, but Melissa had her own problems. I’d made progress and was ready to put my ability to live in this house alone to the test. I’d be fine. “You don’t need to worry about me. Go take care of your aunt.”

  I emptied my wine glass and let the warmth of alcohol and Xanax soothe my worries.

  Everything would turn out fine.

  Chapter Twelve

  The hard-faced child custody arbitrator sitting at the head of the long conference table reminded me of an over-worked schoolmarm, haggard and stern. I sat on the other end of the table with Aaron at my side. For the past five minutes, the old bitty had flipped through the psychologist’s report without saying a word.

  My hands trembled, but I kept them clasped and under the table so my shaky anticipation couldn’t be construed as neurosis. Aaron alternated between tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on his thigh. I exhaled through my nose. He had no rhythm, no beat to count.

  “You’ve made progress.” The arbitrator’s sharp tone cut through the silence. Her eyes stayed on the report as she flipped another page.

  I straightened my spine. “Yes. The therapy sessions have helped immensely.” Lie. Lie. Lie. Thank goodness I’d taken the time off during the school semester and I could keep myself numb on Xanax every day. Well, every day but today. Today I was stone-cold sober, and I’d promised to wean myself entirely off the mind-numbing drug.

  The expressionless woman looked down on the report and pursed her lips.

  Every muscle in my body contracted. I was so close to having my rights reinstated, I could feel the children’s warm breath on my cheek. Katie had provided plenty of proof that I was capable of caring for the twins. Only minutes ago, Aaron had given the arbitrator his statement of faith in my abilities. The court had no reason to deny the request.

  “You’ve moved into a new home.” The arbitrator peered at me over the reading glasses almost falling off her nose. “Tell me about that—how are you coping with the change?”

  Aaron stopped drumming and shifted his weight in his seat.

  “Losing another person in my life hasn’t been easy. But the responsibility of caring for my children motivates me to stay strong and take care of my mental state. Besides, the children know and love the house and property I’ve inherited. I see a positive future.” I sat up straighter and plastered on a face of serenity. The past few days without Melissa at the house had worked out surprising well—with a little help from my friend in the orange bottle.

  “I can vouch for that,” Aaron said. “The kids are excited about their mom moving into the house. Patsy was like a grandmother to them. They grew up around that house.”

  My heart warmed, and I gave Aaron a grateful smile.

  The arbitrator nodded. “Good. Then, I concur with the therapist.” She closed the file and looked into my eyes. Her face and tone softened. “Jolene, you’ve made great strides in getting your life back together. I see no reason for you not to have your custody reinstated.”

  Tightness in my shoulders melted, and I released a long breath. Finally, I had what I wanted. Relief swept over me for the first time in what seemed like forever. I’d done it. I’d convinced Aaron, Katie, and the court that I was mentally stable. Pretending sanity had become my forte.

  Walking through the lobby of the colonial courthouse with Aaron, I laughed, unable to contain my joy. The hearing had ended so suddenly that I hadn’t adjusted to the good news. Now, I understood the expression ‘over the moon’ because my feet were so light that I could have leaped into the exosphere.

  Aaron chuckled. “It’s really nice to see you doing better.”

  “Having the kids again is going to help even more.” I couldn’t erase my smile. My effor
ts at convincing everyone I was stable had worked. Katie, the arbitrator, Aaron. Maybe Nancy and the others didn’t see me that way, but the important people in my life had noticed how stable and sane I’d become, and that was all that mattered.

  “It’ll be good for the kids too,” Aaron said. “And I’m glad you have a good friendship with Melissa. Seems like she’s been a real support to you. Good friends are hard to find.”

  “Yes. Melissa and I go way back.” My weird behavior had caused me to lose friends in the past. I’d always believed only Patsy and Annette had ever really cared. Maybe it was time to rethink my perspective.

  “That’s great.” Aaron rubbed his hands together. “Once India and I get back from London with the kids, I’ll drop them off at your house.”

  “I’ll be ready.” I’d known months ago about the two-week vacation Aaron and India had planned with the kids. I could live with that. It wouldn’t be long now before the children would be mine for a week. For the first time in almost three months.

  We went our separate ways. The sun was high in the sky, and I drove home with my windows down and the cool October air whipping around my face. The exhilaration gave me a new perspective. I was truly on the road to getting my life back in order, excited about exploring new horizons.

  I walked into my empty house through the garage and dropped my purse on the kitchen counter. Everything was still, quiet. The clock on the wall ticked a steady pace forward, each second an empty echo. Though I’d been fine on my own for two nights, I wished someone was with me now to share the joy.

  The furniture was mine, and the dishes, silverware, coffee pot, and every other damn thing a house needed. Not a single remnant of Patsy and Annette’s life remained in the house. I’d thought getting rid of the reminders would make moving forward easier, but the truth was, I missed them both too much.

  I longed for the old days—when Patsy, Annette, and I would sit around the kitchen table, laughing and planning the next house party. Whether for Christmas, the Fourth of July, or an oyster roast on a cool autumn night, Patsy had always enjoyed opening her home to good friends and neighbors. It had been hard to fall on the wrong side of the fence with Patsy—she’d accepted everyone.