House of V

by Raen Smith

  “You can come in. I’m not going to tear your head off,” I finally said, nodding toward Sanchez’s seat. Delaney returned the nod as her brown hair brushed against her chest that had grown even bigger since I had seen her last. My eyes fell down to her swollen belly again. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. “When is the baby due?”

  “Your niece or nephew is due in September,” James said.

  The words niece and nephew caught me off-guard. This was my family, but it didn’t exactly feel that way. A reunion in a police station didn’t give me a bunch of warm, fuzzy feelings.

  “By the blank stare on your face, I can tell you haven’t thought of it that way,” Delaney offered. “The baby that is. You’ll be an aunt, if you’re up for it.”

  “I need some time to think on that,” I replied as James leaned over to grab Delaney’s hand. I stared at their interlocked hands a little too long before I averted my eyes, looking back to the agreement James had drafted. I needed to focus.

  “Where is he?” Delaney asked, her eyes soft and wide.

  The pang in my gut radiated as I thought of Ryan. I tried to push the feeling away.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I told her, pulling the paper closer to me. I couldn’t think about the real possibility that I would never see Ryan again. “So what does this say? Are you letting me sell my soul to the devil? I hope your friend knows what the hell he is talking about because you sure the hell didn’t seem too confident. ”

  “Come on now,” James said half-defensively. He knew he was a good lawyer, but he also knew he wasn’t cut out for this kind of work; dealing with people like me. “I’m never in a courtroom, and I never deal with criminals.”

  “We’re off to a good start here,” I said as I cracked a crooked grin at the mention of my criminal status. “First, your wife leads me to be arrested and then you call me a criminal. This is the thanks I get for saving your lives? Did you forget that you were bleeding out on that couch?”

  “When you put it that way,” James said, placing his hand on his abdomen. “I’ve got quite the scar, but it was all worth it. I asked Delaney to marry me on the ambulance ride. How do you refuse that?”

  James shot a sheepish grin at Delaney.

  “Impossible to, I suppose,” I said, feeling a curiosity tick in my head as I pictured James in the bar at Atlas Pub with Mark right before Gunnar kidnapped Delaney. I felt my jeans rub against the chair as I turned toward James. “By the way, I never asked you why you were at Delaney’s house back in January a year and a half ago. What made you go to her house that day? Delaney mentioned she hadn’t seen you in years. Why were you in Appleton?”

  “I - ” James stammered, clearly taken aback. “We ran into each other at Froedert. I was in Milwaukee scoping out office buildings. My firm wanted to open up a branch, which I now know was orchestrated by Holston. I was supposed to meet a client at the hospital, of all places, but the client never showed up. Instead, Delaney did.”

  “All thanks to Holston. He knew I was going to be there with my - our mother,” Delaney said. “And as much as I hate everything about Holston Parker and what he did to our family, I’m grateful that we are where we are today. James and I are finally together. And, I’ve found you, Evie.”

  I eyed James’s closely shaven face and warm brown eyes, and was instantly reminded of Ryan. Despite hating the words that came out of Delaney’s mouth, she was right. Holston brought her to James and me to Ryan. James and Delaney were well on their way to their happily ever after, yet in my world, that ending didn’t exist.

  “Are you okay? You never answered James earlier.” Delaney leaned across the table. “Do you need more coffee? Can I get you anything else?”

  “I’m fine,” I replied, swirling the last bit of cold coffee in the styrofoam cup. The black splashed against the sides, leaving a small stain before disappearing. I was fine enough to get by, like I always did. I held out my hand toward James and waited for him to place the pen in my hand.

  “One year probation in the state of Wisconsin. The location will be determined by the court,” James started. “And responsibility as an informant for the missing persons case of Sister Josephine Angeletto until she is found, dead or alive. No expiration or timeframe on the case.”

  “She’ll be found alive,” I asserted, signing Evie Parker across the sheet in tight-inked clarity. I left the tip of the pen on the paper and watched as the ink bled a large black dot. “If there’s no expiration on the case, does that mean I’ll have to stay in Wisconsin for as long as it’s open?”

  “No, but they’ll need to be able to contact you, otherwise, you’ll face a warrant for your arrest again,” James said. “I think Sanchez stuck his neck out for you. My friend couldn’t believe what you were being offered. He said to take it and run.”

  Run. That’s exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to find Sister Josephine on my own.

  “Well, not run,” James backpedaled, choosing his next words more carefully under Delaney’s glare. “Whatever you do, don’t run. Help them with the case, serve your time on probation and then move on.”

  “I got it,” I said, pushing the paper back toward him. “I would do anything to find Sister Josephine.”

  The door opened and Sanchez’s jet black mane appeared. He held the same folder in his hands. That goddamn folder.

  “Are you set?” Sanchez asked as he eyed the signature in front of me.

  “Signed, sealed and delivered. I’m yours.” I handed the paper to him.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have you on our side,” Sanchez said as he slipped the paper into his folder before looking down at his watch. “We’ve got a ton of work to do. We should head back to Appleton. We have a full night ahead of us. And if it’s okay with you, we’ve made arrangements for you to stay at my house.” Before I could contest, he added, “Officer Brian Hobart will be stationed at the house as well. We don’t think it’s in your best interest to stay in a hotel or anything. We want to keep a close eye on you. In case the perpetrator finds out you’re in town, of course.”Of course. The perpetrator. I nodded, knowing that Sanchez really wanted to keep an eye on me. I was a flight risk to Sanchez.

  “I think it would be risky staying with you. He’s got an eye on your department. It’s evident through the dumping of the first body. He wants you to play his little game. I think it will be better for me to stay by myself, just outside of Appleton - ” I started. If Sanchez wanted me to find Sister Josephine, I was going to need some breathing room to do it. I couldn’t have the whole police department breathing down my neck.

  “Not a chance,” Sanchez said.

  “What about Mark’s?” Delaney interrupted. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, and whoever it is probably wouldn’t be watching Mark. You could put a patrol on the street if you wanted.”

  “I don’t know,” Sanchez said.

  “I’ll go with,” Delaney blurted out.

  “You can’t, Delaney,” James said, standing up. “There’s no way I am letting you near a psychopath that’s looking for Evie.”

  “I can help,” she said. “Look, Evie and I found Holston, didn’t we?”

  “Sure, but this is a dangerous situation,” Sanchez said, “I can’t have that responsibility and the last thing I need is for this perpetrator to set his targets on more of your family.”

  “I have access to all Holston’s property,” Delaney defended.

  “His house in Appleton?” I asked.

  “Everything is pretty much gone. The FBI took what they needed and then we got rid of the rest for the most part. Donated or sold it. Way under market value; a serial killer’s property isn’t exactly high on the priority list for most people,” James replied.

  “The cabin?” I asked.

  “We didn’t get that far yet,” James said. “Still there.”

  “The house in Amberg,” Delaney added. “Ann wouldn’t agree to bulldoze it since it was such a beautiful home. We’re in the proc
ess of finding the right person to donate it to.”

  “Fine,” Sanchez interrupted, rubbing his temples. “But neither of you are coming to the station. Besides that, there will be paroles at Mark’s house twenty-four seven. One officer will parole the subdivision and another will be assigned to the house.”

  “It’s a plan.” Delaney smiled at James, who was shaking his head.

  “Then I’m going with you, too,” James added begrudgingly. I knew he didn’t want anything to do with this, or me, for that matter.

  “Good, it’s a party,” Sanchez grumbled, tucking his folder in his arm. “It should only be a night or two anyway. I plan on finding this son of a bitch.”

  I nodded my head and looked at Delaney’s peach lips and clear blue eyes. We both had our mother’s beautiful eyes and suddenly, there was something I needed to do before going to Appleton.

  “Good. I plan on finding the son of a bitch, too.” I moved to stand up, Delaney and James following my lead. “But I’ve got one request before we head to Appleton.”

  Everyone stared at me, their eyes waiting for the latest demand from the smallest person in the room.

  “I want to see Ann and Michael Jones.”

  ***

  Large oak trees lined the streets of the residential area, their branches sweeping over Seventh Street like a large, encompassing canopy. I watched from the passenger seat of Sanchez’s squad car as the houses ticked by. The older, middle class neighborhood was quaint and well-kept. Delaney and James were on their way back to their house in Milwaukee to pick up a few things before they were escorted back to Appleton. I was relieved because I wanted to do this alone.

  Sanchez slowed as he picked up the yellow post-it note Delaney had scribbled the address on. It was the address of her childhood home, and what should have been our childhood home. I wondered if Ann and Michael Jones would have ever left Amberg had it not been for the fire. They could still be living a quiet life in the north woods of Wisconsin.

  We stopped at the craftsmen bungalow. The numbers of the address were posted on the house like every other house on the street. The yard was pruned to perfection with a line of rose bushes just beginning to bloom in the front. Sanchez pulled the squad car into the driveway. The wheels rolled closer as I held my breath. I needed to do this.

  The car stopped and my fingers grasped the handle of the door when I suddenly realized what this scenario might look like. I was arriving on my parents’ driveway in a police car twenty-seven years after I was kidnapped from their home; I couldn’t say that most people would find that comforting.

  “You going in? Or are you just going to sit here for ten minutes?” Sanchez asked, turning the key to silence the engine. He rested his hands on the wheel and looked at me. “Ten minutes. I’ll be here in the driveway the entire time. If you even think of - ”

  “I’m not running, okay?” I said, fully aware of my heart beating in my chest. Somehow I could manage to drain a bullet in Holston’s head easily, however I couldn’t get out of the car to meet my parents. Drops of sweat gathered in my armpits. Seriously, what was wrong with me?

  “Good.”

  “I’m just trying to prepare myself.”

  Sanchez studied me and finally let out a sigh of understanding. “They are your parents, and they haven’t seen you in over twenty years. I think it doesn’t matter what you say, they’ll be happy to see you anyway.”

  I turned toward him to see his usually hard eyes that had, in a brief moment, gone soft just like they had at the zoo and when he had showed me Holston’s list. Sanchez did have a heart.

  “No kids?” I asked.

  “Never had any myself, but my ex-wife did. I don’t get to see Gavin as much as I would like to, but when I do see him, hell, nothing else matters than him. It’s an amazing thing.” Sanchez’s voice cracked at the end.

  I banked on his words, hoping that this wasn’t a mistake. I counted to five and opened the door to step onto the pavement of a driveway that was foreign to me. A house and its inhabitants were complete strangers, yet I was supposed to call them my parents.

  As I walked to the black front door, the sheen glistening in the sun that was beginning to fall on the summer evening, I felt my legs twitch. The urge to run pulsed through my entire being and my body constricted as walls caved in toward me. I was trapped and being squeezed tighter as I moved my hand up to the door to knock.

  Instead of my hand hitting the door, it fell forward as the door opened to a beautiful, middle-aged woman. Her brown hair fell just to her chin, a short, wavy bob not much shorter than my own. A pink flush ran through her cheeks as recognition melted into her face. Her blue eyes began to glisten and a small tear formed in the outermost corner near the small wrinkles that lined her eyes. My mother.

  I stood there in sheer panic, feeling my chest rise and fall with each labored breath. I stumbled a small step back, fearing what she would think of what I had become. She didn’t want me here.

  “Oh, Anna,” she whispered, her hand flying to the back of her ear. The small diamond twisted against the skin of her earlobe. “I never thought I would see you again.”

  My legs buckled beneath me, barely supporting the weight of my body, as I shoved my hands in my jeans.

  “Me, neither,” I said, my voice shaky and barely recognizable. Run, Evie. I turned my head, looking back at Sanchez who had moved out of the squad car and was now leaned against his door. He nodded his head and pulled his aviators down over his eyes. He was trying to encourage me, give me the strength that I needed. I turned back to the shocked face of my mother. I couldn’t understand how emptying a bullet into Holston’s head had been so easy, but this… this was so hard.

  “Michael?” she called behind her into the house with her eyes still fixated on me. “Anna,” she whispered as she moved toward me, her arms outstretched much wider than my body actually was.

  I let her surround me, her thin body holding me tight as I inhaled and smelled the sweet scent of lavender and roses. I wanted nothing else than to bury my head in her neck and crawl into her lap as she stroked my hair. I wanted her to love me, to tell me that everything was going to be okay. That my life for the last twenty-seven years hadn’t been a waste and that, above all, she wanted me. I desperately needed her to want me, to take me in; to find the true Anna Jones underneath the facade of Evie Parker. I was lost and wanted to be found.

  So we stood there, two grown women embracing for the first time. Mother and daughter.

  I had a mother.

  “I’ve missed you for so long, Anna,” Ann said, her voice wavering as she slowly pulled away from me. “I guess I should call you Evie.”

  She studied me with two large tracks where tears streamed. I suddenly felt incredibly self-aware of how disheveled - let’s be honest, horrendous - I looked. Just a few hours of sleep on the plane mixed in with jet lag and no real food, I probably looked like a mangled, unfed dog wagging on her porch. I smoothed my hair down and tucked it behind my ear. Welcome, home long-lost daughter.

  “Come in. Please, come in.” Ann waved her arms at me, ushering me across the threshold and into the house.

  “I have about ten minutes,” I said as I walked into the living room, assessing the furniture; a small fireplace, cozy furniture, a TV. The house was lived-in. It was a home.

  It was perfect.

  “Oh, okay.” Her face fell before she grabbed my hand and held it in her own. “Ten minutes is better than nothing. I will take it.”

  “Michael?” she called again. I heard a scrape in the kitchen and a shuffling noise before Michael Jones emerged from the kitchen in a casual walk.

  “Yeah,” he called back, making it three steps into the living room before he stopped and brought his empty hand to his chest. The towel in his other hand hung low to the ground, his fingers barely gripping it.

  “Anna?” he whispered into the air, as if I wasn’t real, as if he had seen a ghost. I touched my own leg, making sure I was there. God, that w
as stupid. I was here. “Is that you?”

  Ann nodded her head wildly and turned toward him with a huge smile spread across her face. “It’s her, Michael. It’s Anna. Well, Evie.”

  My father’s face broke and his eyes immediately flooded with tears as he whipped the towel over his shoulder and moved past my mother. His hair was a silvery gray and his glasses were set ahead of disbelieving eyes. In khaki shorts and a Miller beer t-shirt, he was dressed like the father that I wanted him to be. He was dressed like a father should be.

  “Evie,” he said my name louder, as if by declaring it that I would exist in real life. I nodded my head. I was here.

  “It’s me,” I answered, letting him study my face before he pulled me into an embrace. His arms shook around me and his body wept in the same joy that I could feel, though my body couldn’t express it. I felt his warmth consume me and his strong arms squeeze me tight.

  “Your father is a crier,” Ann teased from behind him as she placed her hand on my shoulder. “And you on the other hand, it looks like you got my genes.”

  “You women,” Michael said through tears. “How can you not cry?”

  “I did,” Ann said, rubbing her hands across her dry cheeks. “But there’s nothing to cry over anymore. She’s here.”

  “She is,” Michael whispered, finally pulling away from me. I stepped back and let him study me. I was over the smoothing and tucking of my hair; no amount of silly tugging was going to make me look any better. I was who I was. “Your eyes changed. You had blue eyes when you were little.”

  “Contacts,” I said with a smirk. “You both are making me realize how horrible I look and how this all probably appears. Showing up, not showered or fed, escorted by a squad car.”

  “The police are here?” Michael asked, poking his head out the front window to see Sanchez still leaned against the car. “Appleton Police Department. Is that Sanchez?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay, Evie?” Ann rushed. “They didn’t arrest you or anything, did they? Where were you?”