House of V

by Raen Smith

  “I’m ready,” I said, waiting for Sanchez to start the car, but he didn’t turn the keys. Instead, he looked at me, and I waited for his onslaught of lecturing. I could feel it coming.

  “Evie, I know you did what you had to do. I also know that, because of Holston, you’ve had a pretty messed up life. I think your parents know that and will do anything to make things better. They’ve wanted nothing else except their daughter back for the last year. They’ve begged me to go out and find you for months, but you sure the hell didn’t leave me with much to go on,” he said with a long pause. “I hope you got whatever you needed to out of your system and that you can move on with them. You’ve got a stash of free passes from the devil you had to call your father for most of your life, but one day, they’ll run out. All that will be left is you and you better hope like hell that you have yourself figured out when the time comes,” Sanchez finished and then turned the key, the engine roaring to life.

  “And I want nothing else than to catch this son of a bitch that has Sister Josephine. I am willing to do whatever it takes to do that, but I won’t put you at risk to do it unless we know without a doubt, that you won’t be hurt. You follow my rules, and I promise you that this will end as it should. I can’t let anyone else die. Not on my watch,” he continued.

  “Your ass would be fired in a heartbeat.”

  “You bet it would,” he said as he backed out of the driveway and onto the road to find Sister Josephine’s captor.

  ***

  Appleton was just as I had left it except now it had more locked doors. I’m guessing Appleton lost its gleaming ribbon as one of the best small towns to raise your kids. It was a shame, really, that my so-called father had to be a reason for that. Appleton, otherwise, was a relatively “good” place as long as you weren’t me.

  My childhood had been stained unlike the rest of the kids here. An absent father who would bring me random presents a few times a year was a far cry from most of the middle class families that resided in Appleton. The presents Holston brought me consisted of a small chocolate or used stuffed animal when I was young. I received those presents maybe twice a year. One time, he had given me a gold chain only to take it back the following day. I hadn’t questioned how he had afforded the chain back then; I could only cry silent tears that he had taken it away. I now shuddered at the thought of whose neck that chain used to be around.

  Those presents got bigger as I got older when Holston had made more money. He ended up getting me my first point and shoot camera. That was during the BD time, right before Elizabeth died. After I watched Holston kill Henry, I didn’t accept any more of his presents. It turned out that I missed out on at least a dozen gifts. I realized after the police started digging up bodies last year that the number of gifts I had received over the years coincided with a death. Instead of getting gifts on my birthday or Christmas, I received gifts when my so-called father killed someone.

  The Father Lifetime Achievement Award goes to Holston Parker.

  That’s why I loathed presents, or at least, I usually loathed presents. Ryan’s gift had been perfect, and all I could think about was holding that blade in my hand again. I missed Ryan. I missed Norway. I missed everything I had for the last year.

  I shook the thoughts out of my head as we pulled into the dim light of the streetlamps just past nine. The rows of houses were variations of the same structures. The lawns were well-pruned and three-stall garages were sealed shut. We pulled up to a ranch I had never seen before, despite being only one street over from where I had picked up Delaney a year ago.

  “Remember, my rules,” Sanchez repeated. He had mentioned it at least a half dozen times over the two hour car ride. Our talk didn’t get us much further into the investigation other than the reiteration of the facts that were laid out in the interrogation room back at the Milwaukee police station. There was Fred Sullivan; the one body found that was on Holston’s TBK list. Father Haskens was dead. Cause of death, heart attack brought on my strenuous circumstances - i.e., the intruder. Last, and most certainly the most unnerving for me, Sister Josephine was missing and the perpetrator wanted me in exchange.

  We ran through the list of past and current executives at Parker Enterprises, but no red flags were drawn. All too boring, too predictable and none, most obviously, individuals I would profile as criminals or murderers. We both knew one thing, though; whoever it was, knew that Holston and I were close to both Father Haskens and Sister Josephine. With that as a qualifier, we were left with more than ten thousand registered parishioners according to the administrative assistant, Carol. That lead wasn’t going to take us anywhere.

  We went back to the TBK list. Whoever took Sister Josephine and killed Fred Sullivan had access to the list. I took the stand that the perpetrator most likely garnered a copy sometime after Holston’s death. As far as I knew, he’d never let that planner out of his pocket; I had only set eyes on it once during a “convenient” mishap at work orchestrated by none other than yours truly.

  I had snagged his jacket after a meeting and thumbed through that planner in twenty seconds before carefully returning it. Apparently, twenty seconds wasn’t long enough to see that he had started a kill list with your own name on it. Sanchez disagreed with my stance, though, arguing that only the FBI and Appleton Police Department had access to that list after his death. My raised eyebrows and mention of Lieutenant Schaefer didn’t get far with Sanchez; he rushed to defend the department and its actions since the sweep they had done.

  Regardless of how he got the list, we both agreed that it could be any one of the criminals that he crossed during his lifetime, and there was no way to track that history. We needed a focus. We needed to go back to who would want me dead, but the only person I could come up with was already six feet under. At least that I knew of.

  The squad car idled in Mark’s driveway while Sanchez made a call to the first officer tasked with patrolling the house.

  “Officer Hobart is a few minutes out,” Sanchez said, turning toward me.

  “Isn’t that the officer that was with us in Chicago? He’s staying up all night?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he was with us, but he came in at ten today. He’ll be able to make it through the night, plus you know, our staff isn’t that big,” Sanchez said. “A city the size of Appleton shouldn’t need that many officers, but your legacy still keeps on ticking, Ms. Parker. You’re keeping us on our toes.”

  “You bet I do,” I replied, thinking of how far we really had come in the last two hours. Earlier today, I would have lunged at his throat with that comment, yet now, I could take it in stride. What did Sanchez call it? Oh, yeah, trust.

  “All right, well, thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.” I grabbed the handle and opened the door into the mild, summer night of suburbia.

  “I don’t think so. I’ll wait until Hobart gets here.” Sanchez scrambled out onto the driveway and stood on the other side of the car, gazing at me across the top.

  “I thought we were supposed to trust each other,” I said with a smirk as I dodged my head around the patrol lights. I knew Sanchez didn’t want to let me out of his sight and that letting me stay here with Mark was already making him squirm.

  “I’m working on it,” Sanchez said, leaning against the top. “Give me some time. I don’t let any woman walk into my life and start making demands.”

  “I thought you might be the type that would,” I said as I scanned the neighboring houses, listening to the silence of suburbia at night. An occasional dog bark interrupted the crickets that filled the stillness. I wondered how many neighbors had poked their heads out of the windows to see the squad car in Mark’s driveway. I hoped not many for Mark’s sake; there was at least one advantage to showing up at night, hopefully suburbia was sleeping.

  My head turned to a noise at the front of his house where I saw Mark emerge through the front door barefoot in a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt, making his way down the steps and concrete path to meet us. I had l
ast seen Mark barreling into the house in Amberg, his eyes catching mine for a brief moment before I’d fled.

  He looked the same to me with his hair cut high and tight. His body was tall and lanky, but with more muscle than I remembered. I smoothed out my hair and tucked it behind my ear. I needed to stop doing that. It really wasn’t helping any.

  “Sanchez,” he said, holding his hand out. They connected in a hardy shake.

  “Thanks for agreeing to let her stay here. Officer Hobart should be here any minute. He’ll patrol the house,” Sanchez said, scanning the street. “And another patrol will be in the subdivision. They’ll both have unmarked vehicles so they don’t alert the neighbors.”

  “No problem. Delaney just called and said they were about twenty minutes out,” Mark offered before finally moving his eyes to me. They were talking about me like I wasn’t standing right next to them.

  I felt Mark study me, unsure how to react. I had always kind of liked Mark, he was a no nonsense type of person, just like me. And we worked really well together at Parker Enterprises, the short time that we were there together. Yet now that he knew who I was, I wondered how he would treat me. Probably like the killer that I was. I was used to the judgment.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Sanchez asked. “It should only be a night or two.”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Whatever I can do to keep everyone safe and help out in the investigation,” Mark replied, finally breaking his gaze at me to look at a slowing black sedan. “Looks like that might be Hobart.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Sanchez said as he walked down the driveway to meet Hobart’s parked car.

  The heaviness between us swayed, and I realized that the awkward sexual pull that I always felt toward Mark was still there. I tried to suppress it, push it deep down like I did everything else. They were old feelings that I had no right having anymore. I reminded myself that he was Delaney’s brother, and somehow, that made him family to me; a family member that hated every bit of me, most likely right down to the core.

  “I just realized how much you probably hate me right now,” I said, finally trying to break into the heaviness.

  “Hate is a strong word,” Mark started, leaning against the hood of the car. “And lucky for you, I don’t typically hold grudges. Just not in my nature, I guess.”

  “That’s good. Otherwise, it would be a rough couple of days.”

  “So I hear my sister got you arrested, huh?” he said with an awkward laugh.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I said, ducking my head back into Sanchez’s squad car to grab my bag. “Does that surprise you?”

  “Not exactly. I don’t think I can be surprised anymore after the year we’ve gone through. I thought it was over, though, and I never thought I would see you again.”

  “So is this good or bad that I’m here? I can’t quite tell,” I said, swinging the bag over my shoulder. There was a longing in his eyes that I couldn’t quite decipher.

  “I don’t know what it is,” Mark said, shaking his head. “I was just beginning to get a handle on everything. We’ve spent the last year rebranding the company and getting it ready for sales negotiations. We were trying to get away from the reputation that Holston left; the shock only now beginning to wear off, as much as possible anyway. I don’t think anyone really gets over the fact that the owner of the business was a serial killer. Doesn’t bode well for business, if you know what I mean,” Mark finished with another laugh.

  “I do, and here I am, bringing it back.” I lifted my hands in the air and let them fall to my sides. That son of a bitch I was supposed to call my father was still ruining my life. In Norway, I could only feel a whisper of his ghost that followed me, yet here in Appleton, it screamed in my face. As long as I was here, it would always be there. I was always going to be Holston Parker’s daughter and murderer. Lucky me.

  “It’s not you,” Mark rushed as he moved off the hood. “It’s just everything surrounding you.”

  “Was that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked. “Because it didn’t. At all.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re back. If there is anyone that will be able to find Sister Josephine, it will be you. But just for the record, I want to stay out of this as much as possible. You’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you need to, but I can’t drag my reputation or the company’s reputation into this. I don’t want anyone to know that I have any level of involvement in this. Not until I at least sell the company,” Mark said.

  I nodded my head, agreeing to his terms. “Got it.”

  “By the way, I’m sorry that your father was who he was,” Mark replied as he moved to stand up.

  “Not my father,” I corrected as I met his gaze. The barricades I had thrown up after Mark’s last comments were starting to fall down with his patient eyes.

  “You know what I mean,” Mark added quickly as he took a step toward me and rested his hand on my arm. I inhaled sharply, feeling the warmth that spread though my body.

  “I’m sorry that you had to find out about your mom the way you did,” I said as Florence’s emerald eyes flashed through my head.

  “Yeah, she turned out to be quite the woman. I think we’re both sorry for everything that’s happened. Believe me, if I could erase that day and everything surrounding it, I would in a heartbeat. It still blows my mind that I didn’t see anything unusual with Holston,” he said as he finally lifted his hand off my arm.

  Thank God, I could breath. I caught Sanchez and Hobart out of the corner of my eye walking up the driveway. “Believe me, I know. And don’t worry, I won’t be here long. A night or two, tops,” I said looking up at him. There was no way I could stay here any longer than that. I walked past him and up the steps to the front door of his own house without him.

  I stopped, turning one last time to see him still standing in the driveway. “I promise.”

  ***

  “Making yourself right at home?” Delaney asked as she walked in empty-handed into Mark’s kitchen. I was sitting on a stool in the glow of Mark’s laptop while I finished the last bite of an apple. I had never tasted an apple so delicious in my life before. I hadn’t gotten the courage, or stomach, to eat since the flight to Chicago. Getting arrested and finding out that someone was trying to kill you tended to have that effect on a person.

  “Thanks for suggesting that we stay here. It’s a bit more comfortable than having Sanchez breathe down my neck all night,” I replied, turning back to the screen.

  I wasn’t having any luck. The search for any substantial information that would bring me closer to the psychopath that was after me was too broad. Not that there was a shortage of news articles or followings on Holston Parker. That was the problem; there was a flood of information and far too little time to sift through it all. I ran my hand through my wet hair and attempted to dry it with another shake. Taking a shower hadn’t resolved the burning feeling that ran just below my skin. Someone had Sister Josephine.

  “I see Officer Hobart made himself at home,” Delaney nodded to the couch where Mark and the thirty-something officer sat in street clothes. They took turns at the bag of potato chips while Hobart flipped through the channels. Mark convinced him to stop on ESPN before he gave a wave from the couch and turned back to the TV.

  “Yeah, he hasn’t moved from that spot in the last twenty minutes. It took him about five minutes to check the perimeters before he settled there. Let’s hope he checks again,” I replied. “Otherwise, I will be making a run to Parker Enterprises to grab some equipment.”

  “We can’t let you out of our sights, Evie,” James said, walking in behind Delaney with a wheeled suitcase dragging behind him. “According to Sanchez. As your lawyer and brother-in-law, I advise against it.”

  “Yeah, I know. Follow his rules,” I mumbled as I scrolled through the pages on the screen. “It’s just a suggestion, right?” I threw James a cocky smile before he shook his head and set the suitcase down.

  “Fi
nd anything interesting?” Delaney asked, leaning her elbows on the island. I couldn’t help noticing the small bulge that rested just underneath the counter. She caught my eyes and followed them down to her own belly. She placed her hand on it and gave it a soft pat. “I know. It’s weird, right? The baby has the hiccups right now. Do you want to feel it?”

  “No, thanks,” I said, moving my eyes away. Being married and having children was all just a bit too domestic for me. I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into this world - my world - as Evie Parker. There was no way that would ever happen. Ever.

  “I’ll let you girls - sisters - talk,” James said, already half-way into the living room. He plopped down onto the couch and stuck his hand in the bag Hobart held out.

  “I can’t believe they are just going to sit there when?” I started, shaking my head in disbelief.

  “I found something,” Delaney interrupted as she leaned in so close I could smell the hint of men’s cologne - James’s cologne - on her shirt. The smell was sweet, yet masculine, and I instantly thought of Ryan.

  I desperately wanted to call him, but had no way of contacting him without the police sniffing behind my back. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t put Ryan’s freedom on the line. I struggled to pull my mind back to Delaney’s words when all I could think about was Ryan standing in our kitchen.

  “Did you hear me?” Delaney asked. “I found something.”

  “Found something?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, go to this website,” Delaney said as she pointed to her glowing cell phone screen. “It’s from a friend back in college. Kandy has all sorts of connections with random people, one of which is a hacker guy. He’s the one that got me information about Holston a year ago.”

  “Kandy is quite the name. Sounds like she has a personality to match.”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “It’s all coming back to me now,” I said as I typed in the address into the browser. “I remember now that you were digging up information. Was she the one that talked you into the whole online stripping thing?”