The Family Tree: a psychological thriller

by S. K. Grice

Riley whisked me past the handful of reporters and parking lot gawkers, and into his luxury BMW with tinted windows. He threw me worried looks as he drove toward my house. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I hadn’t anticipated being in jail over the holidays. That’s going to be hard.”

  “Yeah. That’s tough.” Riley kept his eyes on the road, a frown falling on his face. “I honestly didn’t know if the judge was going to put off the sentencing until the New Year, but Madeline was right, the State wants this matter put to rest.” He threw me a glance. “How do you think you’ll cope in jail?”

  “I’ve been living in a mental prison for over seventeen years. I can handle three months in a physical one.” That was a lie. No normal person believed they could handle prison.

  “All right.” He paused for a moment. “And what about Jackson Maloney’s investigation. Have the police contacted you again?”

  “No.”

  Riley nodded. “That’s good.”

  Nothing about this was good, or would be, until I found the anonymous caller. I hadn’t received any leaves or creepy calls since I met with Riley. Maybe the anonymous caller to police was satisfied that justice had been served. Maybe now that I’d been sentenced, I’d never get another letter and never see the stalker again. But I found no reason to discuss that with Riley. I stayed quiet and stared out the window for the remaining fifteen-minute drive to my house.

  Riley pulled into my driveway and put the car in park. “Good luck, Jolene. If you need me for anything else, you know how to reach me.”

  “Don’t take this personally, but I hope this relationship is over and I never have to see you again.”

  “No hard feelings.” Riley winked.

  I hopped out and waved goodbye as Riley backed out of the driveway. He honked the car horn and took off. His job was done, but my nightmare was just beginning.

  Resigned to my fate, I went inside, poured a large glass of wine, and drank it down in three gulps. It was only two in the afternoon, but I’d craved the warm rush I got from the first shots of alcohol.

  I took the bottle with me to the other side of the kitchen where I’d set up a cozy corner, like Patsy had done to make the large kitchen the hive of the home. I plopped into the two-seater sofa facing the small flat-screen television.

  This was where I wanted to stay. Huddled in a corner.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ding dong. Ding dong.

  Bells rung in my head and my mouth was dry as desert dust. I opened my eyes and found myself lying in a fetal position on the small sofa in the kitchen’s cozy corner. An empty bottle of wine was on the coffee table and the television had shut down to sleep mode.

  Ding dong. Ding dong.

  I sat up and squinted into the sun-lit room. The orange bottle of Xanax was on the floor. Then, I remembered. I’d double-dosed myself again last night. Shouldn’t have, but I’d needed to keep away the obsessive thoughts of being boxed into a jail cell playing over and over in my head.

  Ding dong. Ding dong.

  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I shuffled toward the living room and looked out the peephole. It was Aaron. Damn it. I still wore my clothes from the hearing yesterday, with the added touch of my hair being matted flat to my head.

  I brushed out my hair with my fingers, then pinched my cheeks, and opened the door. “Hey, you. Come on in.”

  A trail of expensive cologne followed him inside, making me more aware of my ruffled appearance.

  Concern lined his face. “How’ve you been holding up since yesterday’s hearing?”

  I straightened my shoulders and pulled on the hem of my blouse. “I knew I’d get three months and a fine, but I hadn’t expected to be in jail over the holidays.”

  “Hmm. That does suck. But I’ve given this whole situation some thought.” He pointed to the sofa. “Is it okay if we sit down and talk?”

  I pressed my lips together. In all the time I’d known Aaron, he’d never requested we sit and talk. “Uh, sure.”

  He sat at the end of the sofa and I took the armchair next to him.

  “I understand a lot more now,” Aaron said. “The neurosis, the OCD, the drinking—all that suffering was due to this secret eating away at you.”

  “I’m not looking for pity.”

  “You never did. That wasn’t your style.”

  “Thanks, Aaron.” I hugged myself. “How are the twins?”

  “Things have calmed down at school with the bullying. In fact, they’re going to a Halloween party at a friend’s house tomorrow afternoon. Jennifer has a princess costume and Eric is going as Spiderman.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. I should have been the one taking the twins to the party. But it was best for them if I stayed low on the radar. At least for now. “I’m so, so sorry about all this. I never wanted to hurt you or the twins—”

  He leaned closer and put his hand on my thigh. “I know. I believe you. And the kids understand you killed that man in self-defense. I just wish I’d known what you were going through. Things could have turned out different.”

  My muscles relaxed with his warm touch. Would things have been so different? Aaron had always been an excellent father and all-around good guy. But he also had a wandering eye, and that would never change. I took his hand and squeezed firmly. “Maybe. Or maybe things turned out exactly as they should have.”

  Aaron leaned back into the sofa. “What’s important is that now you can let go of the past and move forward.”

  Not really. There was still the anonymous caller. The leaves. Jackson’s murder. So much hung over my head. And even though Aaron was being supportive, I didn’t want to get into the details with him. Learning what I’d done to Mike Morton was enough for him to absorb. “Moving on is exactly what I have planned. And the twins… I’m going to miss them terribly, but I don’t want them to visit me in jail.”

  “I agree. But I also feel it’s important the twins stay close to you, so while you’re away, we’ll arrange for a weekly call. You won’t go through the holidays without seeing their faces on Skype or whatever it is they let you use.”

  My sinus swelled with tears I didn’t want to cry. Separated from my babies. Again. I dabbed my runny nose with the back of my hand. “That’ll work. And you’ll bring them here today after school, right?”

  “I’ll make sure you see them every day until you have to go.” He looked at his phone. “Right now, I need to get back to the office.”

  I waved goodbye from the verandah as Aaron backed out of the driveway. Desperate for caffeine, I went to the kitchen and popped a capsule into the coffee machine. Having Aaron’s support gave me a needed boost. At least I’d stay connected to my children.

  Three months. I only had to last three months.

  Ding dong. Ding dong.

  My first instinct was to ignore the doorbell but hiding from my life never did me any good.

  I looked through the peephole. Shit. Nosy Mrs. Nichols. I’d seen her on the street with the other spectators when Mike’s body had been found. By now, she’d seen the news and knew what I’d done. Another person I couldn’t put off talking to. I opened the heavy inner door and acted surprised. “Mrs. Nichols. How are you?”

  “Oh, Jolene. I-I hope I’m not disturbing you. I just wanted to check in… make sure you’re doing okay.” She smiled, but the lines around her wide eyes showed pity.

  “I’m doing just fine.” I opened the screened door. “Please come in.”

  She gave me a warm hug. “When I heard all the details about what happened...” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s not a nice thing to say, but that boy got what he deserved.”

  “I know a lot of people feel that way. But I hurt the Morton family, and I feel horribly guilty about that. I don’t know if that feeling will ever go away.”

  She patted my hand. “You’re not a bad person. I’ve known you for most of your life. Since you were a wee one. I even remember when your father sent you to that ridiculous psychiatric hos
pital.”

  My stomach tightened. Mrs. Nichols was well-intentioned, but I didn’t like being reminded of my ‘Psycho Girl’ days. “What do you know about that?”

  “Only what Patsy told me. But don’t worry, dear. I don’t share what people tell me in confidence. My point is that Patsy loved you like a daughter. I know that. And I loved Patsy. And for that reason, I want to be a support to you. You’re a good-hearted soul who would never hurt another person on purpose.”

  “But the anonymous calls to police… someone knew what I did and waited all this time to report it to police. It… it’s doing my head in.”

  “It is odd. If what I hear on the news is right, the informant never requested the reward.”

  “For all we know, the police really do know who the caller is, but are keeping it confidential.”

  “Hmm.” Mrs. Nichols tapped a finger on her lips. “That’s possible. But you must wonder why this person took so long to report what they saw you and Annette do.”

  “I think about it every day. What if the anonymous tipster is the same person you saw running along Willow Road that night Mike was last seen?”

  Mrs. Nichols slowly shook her head, her eyes showing the pity I’d become too familiar with seeing on people’s faces. “I really don’t know, dear. I suppose it could be the same person. But it’s all in the hands of the police. I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could help.”

  My heart warmed with gratitude for having Mrs. Nichols as a long-time friend. That she also loved Patsy and Annette had bonded me to her like family. Maybe things weren’t as bad as I thought. Today, I realized that at least I had the support of Mrs. Nichols and Aaron. “I was just getting ready to have a cup of coffee. Would you join me?”

  “No thank you, dear. I’ve had my one cup I allow myself every day. Besides, I can’t stay. Mr. Nichols needs me back at the house. I just wanted to check in and let you know that, if you need a friend, I’m right down the road.”

  I remembered all the times Mrs. Nichols had kept an eye on the house for Patsy if she was out of town for a long period. True-blue, Patsy had called her. “May I ask a favor?”

  “Anything, dear.”

  “As you know, I’m going to jail for three months.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I do. And I’m so sorry—”

  “It’s okay.” I took her hand. “I’m concerned about the house while I’m away. I’d like to have someone I trust check on it periodically. Turn different lights on and off to make it look lived-in.”

  “Say no more. I have plenty of time on my hands these days.” She turned and pointed her chin to the security panel near the door. “Just give me your new code and I’ll be happy to check in as often as you need me to.”

  If only I could trust her with my theory about the leaves, the stalker, and the anonymous caller. She’d definitely ask me a lot more questions. Or maybe she’d think I was bat-shit crazy. As well-meaning as she was, I couldn’t trust that she wouldn’t tell someone else. Better to stay quiet. “I’ll need you to check the mailbox, too. I’ve already pre-paid my utilities and other bills for the next three months, so I don’t expect anything that can’t wait until I return.”

  “You won’t have to worry about anything. I’ll leave all your mail on the kitchen table. I can call you with updates if that makes you feel better.”

  “It does.”

  Mrs. Nichols looked at her tiny oval wristwatch. “I can’t stay any longer, dear. And I’m sure you have plenty on your mind and business to sort out. I’ll come by again in the next few days and you can give me the security code and keys with any special instructions.”

  I hugged her one more time and closed the door as soon as she stepped off the verandah. After drinking the coffee I’d let go cold, I ran upstairs and jumped into a long, hot shower. Aaron was coming by later with the twins, and I was ready to finally hold them in my arms again.

  While towel drying my hair, I heard my phone ping and I looked at the screen. A text from Melissa. Adrenaline rushed to my limbs and I swiped open the message.

  Hey Jolene, I’m sorry for not staying in touch, but I’ve quit Ocean Joe’s and moved to Richmond to take care of my aunt full-time. I feel awful for running out on you the way I did. I was shocked and confused by everything that was going on. But now that I know the full story, I just want to wish you the best of luck.

  My shoulders straightened. Maybe Melissa did care about our friendship. But it still hurt that she hadn’t said all this to me face-to-face. I texted her back.

  Thanks for reaching out to me. I’m sure your aunt appreciates having you around full-time and I hope it’s all working out well for you. Let’s get together for drinks the next time you visit Lighthouse Beach. Stay in touch!

  Melissa never responded. No thumbs-up or smiley face emoji. Nothing. I guessed she’d moved on.

  The days passed with no more letters with leaves. I hoped the informant was satisfied now that I was sentenced. He had his justice. What drained my brain was the feeling that he was planning another move.

  And I was certain there was another move. That scared me, too, because how could I protect myself from a danger I’d never see coming?

  But I couldn’t let the obsessive thoughts ruin the whole week.

  Aaron kept his promise. He and the twins came over every night for dinner, homework, board games, and movies. Turned out, the twins were proud of me for protecting myself and understood how I’d been afraid.

  I only wished telling the truth had set me free.

  The night before I reported to the county jail to serve my sentence, I dropped to my knees and huddled the twins together in my arms. My throat constricted, and I hid my face so that they wouldn’t see my eyes mist. It was only three months, but I’d miss their warm embraces and heartbeats thumping next to mine. “I’m going to miss you more than you can know.”

  Jennifer stroked my hair. “It’s okay, Mommy. We’ll be fine.”

  “Come on, guys,” Aaron said, tugging on the twin’s shirts. “Your mom will be back home before you know it.”

  I stood and hugged Aaron, grateful for his support. He wasted no more time and swiftly left the house with the twins. With my back pressed against the door, releasing the tears I’d held back all night.

  My children would survive this—I knew that. But would I?

  Dragging my feet into the kitchen, I wiped away my tears and emptied the dishwasher. It was best if I didn’t think too much about missing the children. It wouldn’t help.

  Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

  The landline. I hadn’t heard from the creepy caller for a couple of months. The last call had been legit, from Aaron when he couldn’t reach my cell phone.

  Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

  I picked up the handset, held it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Gotcha,” a synthesized voice said.

  Air rushed into my lungs, and I scrambled to find words. “Who the fuck are you? What do you want?”

  “Gotcha,” the voice repeated.

  “Fuck off!” I slammed the handset to the ground then ripped the phone connection from the wall. My heart pounding and pounding. Even though I was going to jail, someone wasn’t satisfied. Someone was determined to continue to torment me. But to what end?

  I double checked the locks on all the doors as questions pounded in my head. Was my life at stake? My sanity? Who could I trust?

  Could I tell the police about the synthesized call? Riley probably wouldn’t buy it since I had no evidence. No return number or recording.

  A dull thud landed in my chest, and my weak legs carried me to the sofa where I collapsed into a ball, cornered and defeated.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Week after week, for eight full weeks, clanking doors and random screams became the background noise of my day-to-day existence in my windowless room. I had a bunk, three square meals of tasteless food, and a grumpy roommate named Sally who spent most of the day sucking on her teeth.

  The holidays
had come and gone, and I’d manage to convince Aaron and the twins that jail was no big deal and time was going fast. What a liar I’d become.

  Books and magazines held little interest because I found it too hard to focus. The jail psychiatrist had said no to Xanax and instead increased my Anafranil to curb my anxiety and prevent obsessive thoughts and compulsions. Dazed and complacent was how I felt. My days were spent half-asleep—that soft place where my heavy body sank into cushy and comfy clouds. I’d always feared being alone, not belonging anywhere. Now, I floated untethered in a foggy world, unworthy.

  I longed for someone like Patsy and Annette, who had loved me with all of my flaws and had my back in every situation. I could have used that right now. An ally. Because I was certain someone was setting me up for Jackson’s murder, and damn if I didn’t need a friend who I could tell all of this to.

  Keys jingled. “Hey, Parker.”

  Rolling my head, I saw it was Beth. The middle-aged security guard stood at my door. “You have a visitor,” she said.

  My ears pricked. I turned to my side and lifted my heavy head. I still had hopes that Aaron would surprise me with a visit from the children, even though we’d both agreed to keep the kids away from this environment. I dreamed of holding them again. “Who?”

  “Noah Baker.”

  With a groan, I flopped my arm over my head and closed my eyes. Not again. This was his second attempt at stopping by to visit me since I’d been in here. He wasn’t on my visitor list, so he’d obviously used his police authority to get access. The guards had told me he’d left quietly last time. Unusual for a cop, I thought. The question was chiseled into my brain—what did he want? A sour taste came to the back of my throat. I already knew the answer. He was a Lighthouse Beach homicide detective with Jackson’s murder to solve.

  I was an obvious and convenient suspect. Noah had heard my story about Mike and knew first-hand how I’d lied to police. Why wouldn’t he assume I’d lied about not killing Jackson?

  “I don’t want to see any visitors today,” I told Beth, and rolled onto my stomach, turning my head to face the concrete wall.