by R. J. Garcia
Chapter 38
The Discovery
Tommy
It was a weird and eerie night, hearing the storm rage and traipsing around a dark, unfamiliar house, becoming sleepy without warning. In a delirium of being half asleep and half awake, I imagined my mother there, an image as delicate and fleeting as a chalk drawing in the rain. I reached for her, but she vanished into thin air.
My eyes opened to a glow filtering through a window shade. I found myself in a strange bedroom, still wearing my jeans and blue T-shirt from the other day. I sat up, alarmed.
I remembered sitting in the living room with my grandparents and Izzy, watching the flames like they were a TV. The warmth from the fire had spread over me like a blanket and my eyelids felt heavy.
Grandma had led me up a long and winding staircase. I followed her into a room, and she pulled the covers down and instructed me to “Get in bed,” with words as thin as threads. The sensation of her dried lips pressed long and hard against my cheek. I slipped into a feeling of peace.
Now, I found myself in a large, queen-size bed. My head ached like I had a major hangover. I squinted trying to orient myself. There was an old, beat up dresser in the corner of the dusty room. The dresser wasn’t antique old, but the old you would find at a garage sale. Cardboard boxes littered the floor, along with a couple of old computer monitors and an old television set.
All at once, it hit me! I didn’t know where Isabella was. I had to find her. I jumped out of bed. My bare feet hit the stained blue carpet. I had to find Izzy. This room was connected to another small room, but it was just full of more boxes and an old sewing machine. I ran out of the room. A long hallway stretched out before me. I rushed around, from room to room, peeking inside each one. All the doors were wide open. They were scantily furnished with misplaced things, like old living room chairs and more boxes.
Back in the hallway, I stopped to examine a faded photo of two kids hanging in a brass frame. My mom was the cutest toddler. Her face was sweet, and innocent like a cherub, outlined in soft curls.
She had her arms around a chubby, baby version of Holden. They looked like perfect, shiny kids, their mouths wide and smiling, yet poker-faced with rigid posture, knees pressed together, and hands folded on their laps. A few more photos of them were posed along that part of the hallway. One thing was for sure, that little girl could have grown up to be anything she wanted. Instead, she sat in the Cook County jail. My eyes burned, but I didn’t lose it.
I refocused on my mission to find Izzy. The first room had a stained mattress on the floor and another dresser. I stepped in and out. The door to the next room was closed. I opened it and went in. I had the feeling it was my grandparents’ room and I shouldn’t be in there. The room had the same filthy blue carpet and flower-patterned wallpaper with a dark wood bedroom set. A shade was pulled down and fixed in place with silver duct tape to keep the sunlight from streaming in. One drawer of the dresser was also taped shut with the same silver duct tape. The tape crisscrossed to form an X, and immediately made me want to open it.
I hurriedly peeled back the tape and opened the drawer up. Inside there were a thousand coins, mostly pennies, and a half-used toilet paper roll. I was wasting my time. I needed to find Izzy, but a purse rested right in my line of vision. I don’t know why I looked in it because I didn’t want to steal anything. I pulled out a driver’s license. It had a photo of an attractive, brown-haired lady. The photo meant nothing to me until I read the name, “Sarah Evans.”
The realization came in a second. Holy crap, that was the lady found buried in the woods.
My heart sped up and my throat closed when I tried to swallow. What should I do? I worked my fingers through my hair. Making up my mind, I slipped the license into my jean pocket and set the purse back in its place. I closed the drawer and repositioned the tape back to an X and rushed out of the room.
I continued my even more frantic search for Izzy. Not knowing where she was almost felt like a physical pain.
I ran down the winding stairs. My feet made it to the bottom floor which was a hardwood. I jogged through the living room. I heard only the faint whir of an overhead ceiling fan. I made my way to a large dining room with a long, dark wood dining table and a china cabinet stuffed with fancy dishes but cheapened by bobbleheads and knickknacks. I exploded into the kitchen. Isabella sat at the table with our grandfather. Izzy looked at me and instantly smiled when she saw me.
My grandmother stayed busy at the stove. “Well, good morning, sleepy head. Just making pancakes for you, Tommy.” She sounded friendly.
I stared at that old woman, forcing out a small, “Morning,” and sliding into the empty chair next to Isabella. I wasn’t sure what happened last night, but I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again.
I knew finding the license was bad. It connected my grandparents to one kidnapped and murdered girl. What about Laney Serel and her missing baby and a girl named Princess? And Silence’s mom? My brain tripped over questions. It didn’t make sense. Could they really be that diabolical? The suspicion zipped through me. I couldn’t shake it.
I swallowed hard and collected my thoughts. “This is really a big house. My mom never mentioned growing up in such a huge house.” My mom had told me, she grew up in a big haunted house, but I wanted to get my grandparents talking. I wanted to see if they ever lived in a cabin. It made sense in my head.
“We’ve lived here since Holden and Jennifer were little. I have all their things. They’re boxed up. I’m so sentimental. And my parents, God rest their souls, left your grandfather and I this house. It was my childhood home,” my grandmother answered, and briskly walked over to the table with a plateful of pancakes and set it down, next to the syrup.
My grandfather seemed practically mute, nodding his head as my grandmother talked. He acted like a dog eagerly waiting for his scraps. Teeny age spots clustered around his hairline, running down the side of his cheeks.
“Thank you, Mom,” my grandpa said, and hurriedly served himself pancakes, cutting them into triangles and dug in.
“Isabella slept in your mother’s old bedroom. We gave that girl everything,” my grandma again said like she had the first time I met her.
“So, that’s where Isabella spent the night.” I nervously asked, “Are you okay, Izzy? Did you—?”
My grandmother interrupted, “Didn’t your mom have a lovely room, Isabella?” She sat down at the table.
“Ah-huh.” Izzy smiled but scrunched up her nose. “There are a lot of clown dolls in Mom’s old room.”
My grandmother poured syrup on her pancakes as she started talking. “Oh, yeah. We bought Jennifer clown dolls and I painted pictures of clowns for her.” She passed the syrup to my grandfather who put it on his pancakes as an afterthought.
“But our mom’s scared of clowns,” I said, and Izzy nodded her head in agreement.
My grandmother paused. “Jennifer wasn’t scared of clowns back then. She adored them.”
I realized, “I didn’t see a clown room.” I was really thinking out loud.
First, my grandmother gave me a hard look until her face relaxed. “Your mom’s old room is the attic. We fixed it up for her. She never appreciated anything, like you two not even thanking me for making you pancakes.”
We both spit out a hurried “Thank you.” My grandmother was all into manners, but who was she, really?
Isabella could never sleep during a bad storm. How had she managed to fall asleep during a storm and in a new room, far up in some attic? We’d been drugged. I was sure of it. “I bet you fell right to sleep, too, huh, Izzy?”
“No. I couldn’t sleep. I was throwing up last night.” On closer inspection, I noticed Isabella had dark circles under her eyes. “I don’t feel good. Sorry, Grandma,”
“I’m not eating, either.” I shoved my empty plate away. I turned to Izzy. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you last night.” I had always been there for her when she was sick. Now, I had left her with these
maniacs.
My grandfather brought out a money clip, pulling out a twenty. My grandmother sharply told him, “Put it away!” He obeyed.
Chapter 39
A Happy Place
Tommy
Three pairs of eyes questioned my sanity. Silence was the first to reply. “Wait. Finn gets attacked by a crazy man, who kept talking about Laney Serel,” she held her palm up at the absurdity of it, “And your grandparents are the kidnappers? What did I miss?”
Finn stared at me from his hospital bed, looking pale and lost.
“What makes you think your grandparents are involved in this, Tommy?” Annie asked. I knew she was trying to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I handed the driver’s license to Annie. Her eyes widened. She passed it to Silence.
Silence’s eyes poured over it. “It’s Sarah Evans. The lady who was found dead in the woods?” She seemed to harden, before, wondering, “How did you get this?”
I could feel my face heat up. I needed someone to believe me. “I found it at my grandparents’ house, in their bedroom drawer. They’re weird people. My mom told me they were evil, and I think she’s right. They drugged me and Isabella. I’m a hard-core insomniac but slept like a baby last night.”
Silence sat down by Finn on his bed, passing the license to him and asked, “Tommy, could your grandfather be the guy who beat Finn with the shovel?”
“I don’t know. Describe the guy to me again.”
“Yeah, describe him,” Finn said, puzzled. He continued to have no memory of the attack.
Silence began, “He was kind of old and tall, with a —”
I interrupted, “My grandfather isn’t too tall. He’s about my height.”
“You mean short,” Finn said. I shot him an annoyed look. He gave me a sheepish grin, and mumbled, “Sorry, little buddy, but it’s true.”
Silence ignored Finn and continued. “He was a few inches taller than you, Tommy. At least six feet tall. He had a rough complexion like he had acne when he was young.”
“It’s definitely not my grandfather who attacked Finn. But they have to be involved in this, or they wouldn’t have had the dead lady’s driver’s license.”
Annie meekly added, “Well, there could be another reason they had the license. Maybe your grandmother found it, or knew this, Sarah Evans.” She sat down in the chair, near the hospital bed.
I hadn’t thought of that. It made sense and took me a little off guard. “Yeah.” Another idea flashed in my head. “Silence, I want to talk to your mom, find out more about the man who kidnapped her.” Right after I said this, I wondered why I hadn’t done this before now.
Silence said, “I guess you could, but she doesn’t talk very much.”
“Guys, I have to tell you something,” Finn broke in.
“Oh, me too,” Annie said, scooting forward in the chair, her tone enthusiastic. She became apologetic, “Sorry, you go first, Finn.”
Finn blinked his eyes in nervous flickers, and a look of agony ripped across his face. We all stared at him. His expression alone worried me.
Finn told us, “Polar Bear came to the hospital to see me... He said he would kill my mom if she... if she doesn’t take him back.”
The room went silent.
Finn added, “I thought you would know what to do, Tommy.”
A rush of anxiety and frustration shot through me. It was all too much. He was going through his own strange and terrifying ordeal. “I’m sorry, Finn.” I closed my eyes for a second, trying to clear my head. “If we could get him on tape, he could get arrested.” I admitted, “I have to think more about it.”
I was surprised to see tears welling up in Silence’s eyes until she pulled it together and cuddled up to Finn, saying no one better touch her boyfriend or his mom.
I guess they had made it official. I was too stressed out to be happy about it. I just hoped they wouldn’t act too much like a couple.
Silence’s face flushed as she added, “Anyway, Polar Bear’s all bark and no bite.”
I didn’t think so. The room was quiet again, until I asked, “What did you want to tell us before, Annie?”
She stood and shook her head. “It’s not important.” I put my arm around her and pushed a little more. Her words were rushed with a hint of an apology in her tone. “My mom bought a pool because the Great Escape had an end-of-year-sale.”
I told her that was cool.
Finn tried to sound upbeat. “I can’t wait till I get out of here and can go for a swim.” His voice was a little flat.
Annie’s announcement reminded me that some of the world remained a happy and logical place.
Chapter 40
Silence’s Mother
Tommy
Twigs and branches lay here and there, casualties from last night’s storm. Silence announced, “I’ll go get my mom.” Her green eyes were filled with dread, but she held her chin up, like some brave and noble princess ready to face the guillotine for the common good.
I waited, pacing back and forth over the overgrown lawn. It was the first hot and humid day of summer. Even my feet were sweating. The sun scorched down, and the sky showed in a washed out blue as if the heat had melted away most of its true color.
I had no idea what questions to ask Silence’s mom, but I felt anxious to get to the truth.
Finally, her mom appeared looking small and wounded. Silence had her arm around her, guiding, and impatiently encouraging her along. Even though her mom was short, she had a clumsy, long-legged walk.
Closer now, I got my first good look at her. Her nose was lumped and smashed into her face. Her cheeks melted into her flesh. It wasn’t healthy skin. One of her eyes stayed halfway closed and had no eyelashes or eyebrow accompanying it. One side of her lips looked normal, plump and pink, but the other side of her mouth caved in. She had been burnt or was beaten badly enough to become disfigured. Her haggard, injured face was framed by a mousy mop of grey, frizzy tangles. It seemed impossible that a woman so hideous could have such a cute daughter. I felt guilty for thinking this as soon as my brain put it out.
Silence spoke quickly as if to get the introduction over with. “This is Tommy. Tommy, this is my mom.”
“Go on, talk,” Silence said, brusquely. “She doesn’t like to be outside.”
“We can go inside,” I offered.
“No.” Silence shook her head. “She doesn’t like people to come inside either.”
I had the feeling Silence didn’t want me to see her house, but said, “Oh, okay…Hello, Mrs. Harper.”
“Who’s he?” Her eyes had a lost and distant glint. She held a grubby doll. I recognized that doll. It was the one Silence found in the woods.
“His name’s Tommy. He’s my friend, mom.” Silence turned to me, saying, “Sometimes it takes an hour for her to say one sentence, but it might not make sense.”
“It’s okay. I’m not in a hurry,” I said. I had no idea her mom was that bad off.
“Who’s he?” The lady again repeated, sounding agitated, but looking down. “Tell him to go home.”
“I told you his name’s Tommy!” Silence snapped, adding, “She isn’t usually this feisty.”
“I’m Tommy Walker and I wanted to find out—” Before I could finish my sentence, Silence’s mother’s mouth twisted open and her good eye bulged with shock. Silence and I both froze watching her.
Her mom turned and ran back into the house.
Silence brought her hands up to her head in frustration. “Sorry, Tommy. She isn’t right. She barely even talks to me.”
“I think the name Walker set her off. Did you see her? She freaked out.” I thought and said out loud.
Silence gazed at me, her eyes lit with interest and suspicion. “Yeah, she kind of did.” Her shoulders slumped, and she briefly buried her face in her hands. “But she’s jumpy a lot, so who knows.”
I made sure to make my voice softer and more respectful. “How did she get hurt?”
“She has
been that way all my life. My grandmother and Annie’s mom always looked after both of us, really.”
“What did your mom say about the man who kidnapped her?” I asked.
“Not much. My mom did say they kept her in a cabin in the woods, just like Laney’s letter said.”
“You just said they?”
“Yeah, she said they, a couple times.”
“Is there anything else,” I asked.
Silence paused. She narrowed her eyes thinking about it first. “Sometimes, my mom will call for Laney in the middle of the night. She answers herself, in this husky voice, ‘Laney’ is dead. It creeps me out.”
It was creepy. It didn’t connect my grandparents to Laney Serel or Silence’s mom. “Wait, what’s your mom’s name?”
“Elaine Harper.”
I pushed. “Tell me more, tell me everything you know.”
She only repeated the same story. “My grandmother told me that my mom was gone for a really long time and left in the woods by our house one day, really bad off, and pregnant with me. My mom talked enough to insist on naming me Silence.”
“Maybe it’s your grandmother we should be talking to.”
“My grandmother died over a year ago.” She wore a sad smile and reminisced. “We used to watch baseball together, but she was a big-time junk collector.”
“Sorry about your grandmother,” I said half-heartedly, though I hadn’t meant to be that way. I was feeling distracted. My mind wanted answers. None of it made sense. “Why didn’t your grandmother report it?”
“She thought my mom ran away with her boyfriend. He went missing, too. My mom was sixteen. When they found my mom, she was old, about forty, and they did file a police report, but nothing ever came of it. My mom really couldn’t tell the police much. I think about how terrible it must have been for her.”