House of V

by Raen Smith

  “Finding anything?” James asked from below.

  I lifted the top open, holding my breath as I set the cover on its hinges. Inside were three lines of envelopes reaching from the front of the box to the back. There had to be at least a hundred envelopes in the box. I ran my finger along the edges, finally pulling the first one up. The familiar handwriting sent shivers through my spine.

  My Dearest Ann.

  “Maybe,” I answered, flipping the letter over slowly to see the sealed back. I slid my finger beneath the flap before I stopped and put it back. “I’m coming down.”

  16

  June 20, 12:15 p.m.

  The Cottage Near Lake Michigan

  I set the wooden box on the grass outside the shed. The four of us stood around it, examining the stamp before I pulled the top open again.

  “C,” Agent Allen said as he squatted down beside it.

  “Yeah, C,” I repeated. “These are letters from Holston to our mother. All sealed. Most likely a hundred of them.”

  “What’s the C?” Delaney asked.

  “I don’t know, but a letter from the kidnapper had a C on it,” I answered.

  “That’s it? That’s what this box is? We don’t have time to go through this whole box of love letters here,” Agent Allen said as he stood up from a squatted position. He put his hands on his hips before checking his watch. “It’s almost time to go. We should be back around two. We need to prepare for tonight. We can bring the box back to the station.”

  “Just give us a second,” I said as I pulled the first letter out and handed it to Delaney. “You do it.”

  “I don’t know if I can - ” Delaney started before James took the letter in his own hands. He slid his finger underneath the flap and lightly tore the seal.

  “I guess you don’t have to,” I said, watching James. As much as I didn’t want to hear his words or his voice, I needed to know what the letters said. “What does it say?”

  “It’s dated 1983. My Dearest Ann, You’ll never quite understand the magnitude of my love for you. The first time I set eyes on you, I knew my world would never be the same. I needed you in it, and for a brief moment, I had you. I had the beauty of your voice, the soft touch of your skin and the luscious locks of your hair. I want nothing else in life besides you. Please come back to me. I will show you the world and more. With love, George.”

  My skin crawled listening to James’s trailing voice as he finished the letter. George Boyd; the name that he had given Ann before had become Holston Parker. I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that Agent Allen was right. I wasn’t going to spend the afternoon sifting through these letters that were only going to disgust me.

  “I thought I had something,” I said as I moved to pull the lid back over the top. I ran my finger along the C. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “I can’t stand to listen to that all afternoon,” James said.

  “Is there anything else in there?” Delaney asked as her hand stopped mine from closing the box. She pulled a handful of letters out.

  “Just a hundred or so letters,” I said, watching her stack the white envelopes on top of each other. Every letter was addressed to My Dearest Ann.

  “Double check them,” Delaney said as she continued to empty the box. James and I grabbed the letters and verified that the letters were addressed to Ann. I flicked through my stack and watched as the lettering of the address never changed. The same steady hand pulsed each letter of her name out with thick black ink until I came to the second to last envelope.

  “Josephine Angeletto,” I read the name on the envelope aloud. I felt the stares of Delaney and James before Agent Allen stepped toward me. His hands dropped from his hips.

  “Sister Josephine Angeletto,” he repeated.

  “Open it,” Delaney urged. I lifted the seal gently and opened the flap to see a small, wallet-sized photo. The black and white photo was printed on fading paper. The edges curled to a tanned, burning color. A young girl with two boys flanking her sides looked back at me. Dressed in white t-shirts and black pants, the faces of the children were sullen except for a small hint of a smile from the little girl. I stared at the boy on the right, maybe nine or ten-years-old, and recognized the familiar black eyes set in his innocent face. I would recognize those eyes anywhere; I had seen them for far too long. I flipped over the back of the photo to see the date 1962 inscribed in Holston’s writing.

  “Let’s see it,” Delaney said, peering over my shoulder. I handed her the photo and moved on to the small letter inside.

  “Holston is on the right, but I don’t know the other two. There’s a letter,” I said, unfolding the paper. “To Josephine, I know you have it in your heart to forgive me. I won’t ever apologize for my behavior on that night. Psalm 99:11: For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. Your Guardian Angel.”

  “Look at the sign in the picture,” Delaney said, pointing to the edge of the photo before handing it to Agent Allen. “The same stamp that’s on the crate is on the sign. There’s a letter O after the C.”

  “C-O,” Agent Allen said with a sense of intrigue in his voice. “This has to be the name of a building or something. If Holston is nine or ten in this picture, then he should have been at an orphanage at the time. He bounced around to a few foster homes and orphanages, but I don’t remember a name that started with a C. Evie, is this Sister Josephine?”

  He held the picture in front of my face. I studied the small girl’s features and face structure. She was maybe only five or six. I closed my eyes to see Sister Josephine as she was when I first met her; her rich espresso hair and patient, inviting eyes. I opened my own to see the small girl.

  “It could be,” I said. “If I had to take a guess, it would be her.”

  “And the other boy?” Agent Allen asked.

  I shook my head. The other boy was around the same age as Holston except he was a little taller and leaner. His face was a pale white, the dark hair cut just like Holston’s. The boy had his arms folded across his chest. I studied his face, but I couldn’t place him anywhere.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “It could be anyone. He looks around the same age as Holston in this picture, which puts him in his early to mid-sixties, but I don’t have anything else.”

  “We’ve got to get this back to the station and start working on identifying this kid. Plus, we have to find more information about this building,” Agent Allen said as held out the photo and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He snapped a picture of the children and letter before he delicately placed them both back in the open envelope in my hand.

  “If Holston had anything to do with it, he’s probably already dead,” James said.

  A Guardian Angel. I thought of Sister Josephine’s words that her guardian angel was still very well alive. Holston had been her guardian angel. I couldn’t believe that Sister Josephine could possibly say that, and I wondered how much Sister Josephine knew about Holston. A sinking feeling overwhelmed my body. Sister Josephine had to have known who Holston Parker really was.

  ***

  “Any ID on the kid or the building?” Agent Allen asked as I shut the door to Sanchez’s office behind us. We had already dropped Delaney and James off at Mark’s house. Bringing the whole cavalry into the police station wasn’t a good idea, according to Agent Allen.

  “No identification on the kid. We are searching through the records of orphanages, but haven’t come across any that start with C-O,” Sanchez reported as he ran his hand through his hair. I sat down in the seat across from Sanchez.

  “Did you check records for orphanages that are now closed?” I asked.

  “We’re on it,” Sanchez replied. “But it’s hard to trace. Without Sister Josephine here, we don’t have much to go on. Carol said that Sister Josephine mentioned having a brother once, so we are trying to track him down. Her adoptive parents are deceased. She doesn’t seem to have any other family.”

  “The church was her
family,” I said quietly.

  “How many officers are planned for tonight?” Agent Allen asked next to me.

  “Twenty. We will stagger our departure starting at 6:30. All officers will arrive at the location at 9:15, after the party has officially started. We have twenty officers that will surround the building once Evie goes in at 9:00. We’re going to send Hobart in with you, Evie. Are you still up for it?” Sanchez asked, leaning forward in his seat as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He needed me, and I wanted nothing else than to find Sister Josephine. I was willing to walk into the belly of the beast and give him what he wanted. Me. But with one exception.

  “No.”

  Sanchez shot me a questioning look before starting in, “Look, Evie, I gave you everything that you wanted. Your ass could be sitting in prison for the next few years -”

  “I’m not going in with Hobart,” I interrupted. “I thought we agreed that I would do this alone. I’m not going to have that idiot ruin any chances of me finding out where Sister Josephine is.”

  “Change of plans,” Agent Allen said.

  “We can’t risk it,” Sanchez explained.

  “You’re not risking anything. I’m the one putting myself out there. They’ll be suspicious if I show up with anyone. They know I work alone. They know me better than you,” I said, turning to Agent Allen, his head slowly nodding in reluctant agreement. “Probably better than I know myself.”

  “You shouldn’t go in alone -” Agent Allen started.

  “Fine, but we’re tapping and arming you,” Sanchez finally agreed. His eyes steadied on me, serious and unforgiving. “If you -”

  “It’s not about you or me, Sanchez. It never was. It’s about bringing Sister Josephine back,” I said. “And I will do whatever I need to do to make that happen.”

  ***

  I stared at the reflection in the mirror; I was a distorted and miniature version of the woman standing behind me. She was more beautiful than I was with her long, flowing hair and peach lips. I pinched my own lips and wondered how I got the short end of the stick. Delaney held the open scissors in her hands before she dropped them on the counter with a clank.

  “I can’t do this,” Delaney said, running her hand through her thick locks.

  “Yes, you can. You have to,” I said as the towel I was holding dipped below my shoulders. I pulled it up and wrapped it tighter around my neck. Delaney lifted it up anyway and looked at the bicep of my right arm.

  “Is that where the bullet went in?” She touched my skin lightly just below the scar.

  “And came out,” I replied. I felt the towel lift higher, my back now exposed.

  “What is all this?” she whispered, tracing her fingers lightly across my back where the crucifix tattoo had been removed. “Don’t tell me he hurt you…”

  “It’s not what you think. I just had a tattoo removed. A big one,” I said. “A crucifix to be exact. I got rid of it because it reminded me too much of him. I’ve lost a little faith in God ever since I found out what he had been doing. There was something about that crazy, old woman, Janet Hinske, that really got me going. She was insane and Holston was there right along with her. Plus, a huge crucifix draws attention and could easily be matched to me. I need anonymity, not a crucifix stamping.”

  “That’s a relief,” Delaney said. “I thought he abused you.”

  “Nope, just emotionally scarred for eternity,” I said with a sarcastic grin as I wrapped the towel tighter around my neck. “Hey, by the way, can you find out who bought Holston’s house here in Appleton?”

  “I already did,” Delaney said with a smile.

  The shock displayed on my face as I stared at her in the mirror.

  “What?” She asked innocently. “You didn’t think I would simply sit here and do nothing while you were at the station, did you?”

  “No, I guess not. It just surprised me.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t,” she replied. “The guy’s name is Kevin Carpenter, but I don’t know anything else. Yet, anyway.”

  “Kevin Carpenter,” I repeated the name as I tried to place it, but I definitely didn’t recognize the name.

  “I’m having Kandy’s guy search for orphanages, too,” Delaney said with a smile.

  “Well, look at you.” I returned the smile and shook my head. “Can we get back to this?”

  “Are you sure?” Delaney asked as she dropped the towel to cover my back.

  “I can’t exactly go anywhere to get a haircut around here, and I can’t do it myself. Plus, we only have about a half hour before I leave. You went to art school, didn’t you? You have to be creative and good with your hands.”

  “Not even remotely close to being the same thing. I’m going to botch this. I’ve never done this before,” Delaney groaned as she picked up the scissors again. She opened them up and moved toward my head. “Don’t blame me when it looks like hell. Here goes nothing.”

  “Close to my head. Maybe only three inches,” I reminded as she took my hair in her hands and snipped off the first piece.

  She held the auburn strip in her hand. We exchanged grins before she started laughing. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Me, neither.” Mark appeared in the doorway of his own bathroom. His tie hung loose around his neck. “I can’t believe you’re letting her cut your hair.”

  “Have to play the part,” I said, feeling more bits of hair release from my head. I wanted to give them everything they were looking for. I wanted to look and feel as much like the Evie I remembered. I needed to play this right if I wanted to get any closer to Sister Josephine.

  “How was work?” Delaney asked as she snipped away. She was getting more confident with each slide of the scissors.

  “Are you really asking me about work when there is a missing person’s case and murderer out there to get Evie?” Mark asked as he leaned against the doorway. I felt a twinge in my chest looking at his lean frame and concerned eyes. I didn’t want Mark to get involved more than he needed to, and I definitely needed him to stop looking at me the way he was. As much as I felt the easiness between us, it couldn’t happen. I needed to get back to Ryan somehow.

  “Just trying to have a normal conversation so I can feel better about all this,” Delaney defended. “So I can feel normal.”

  “This isn’t normal,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Prepping someone so she can go undercover to find the location of a missing person is far beyond normal.”

  “Has anything in any of our lives been normal? Ever?” I asked.

  “It used to be until about a year and half ago,” Mark replied, staring at me.

  Everything was normal until I entered their lives. The heat flared in my body and my hands clenched in my lap. After tonight, I would be gone from their lives for good. I would spend the year in Wisconsin away from them, if that’s what they wanted. Away from everyone, where I belonged.

  “That’s not true at all, Mark. We just didn’t know what or who we were,” Delaney retorted. “Who knows what would have happened if Evie wouldn’t have stepped in. It could have turned out a lot worse.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Mark replied as he stepped into the bathroom. “I just want all this to end. I want the disaster of Holston Parker out of our lives. For good. I never even want to hear that bastard’s name again.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Delaney said as she stepped back to access her progress.

  “Who are you going with tonight?” Mark looked at me as he pulled the tie from his neck and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  “No one,” I replied.

  “You’re going by yourself? There’s no way - ” Mark stopped unbuttoning his shirt and leaned against my chair.

  “They’re going to follow me. I have about fifteen minutes to see if I can get any information. I’ll be wired and armed,” I said. “Then about twenty of them are going to surround the place. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Mark interrupted.


  “Not a chance,” I said. “I’ll be fine. They were going to send Hobart with me, but I happily declined his presence. They would never let you come with me. Plus, I thought you wanted to stay out of this?”

  “I do, but I think it’s too risky,” Mark replied, turning to lean against the counter as he faced me. He searched my eyes, looking to see if I would break, if I would let him in. I couldn’t let him be a part of this though. I couldn’t let him get messed up any more than he already had been.

  “Me, too,” Delaney said. “Don’t even try to weasel your way in. I already did, and I got shot down faster than you did. You should feel honored this conversation has lasted as long as it has. I just can’t believe that we have to sit here all night. Not knowing. It’s going to kill me.”

  “I’m doing this alone.” I met the gaze of Mark and then Delaney before I moved to my own reflection. Maybe I was always better off alone.

  ***

  I pulled James’s SUV onto the shoulder and silenced the music just ten minutes away from Holston’s rebuilt Jones’s family home. I had left Delaney, James and Mark a little less than two hours earlier in Mark’s living room with two officers. They would be safe, but I knew they were worried about me. I had promised that I would call them once I was out of the house, and I fully intended to keep that promise. I glanced up in the rearview mirror to see Sanchez’s unmarked car pull up behind me. His headlights beamed through the dusk. The neon light glowed 8:45 p.m.

  The disposable phone’s ring cut through the silence.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, holding the phone tightly to my ear. The smooth plastic felt good against my skin. Delaney had done a pretty damn good job for never having any experience. A little choppy, sure, but definitely passable, and I was sure the Vigilante League would love it, along with my jacket, boots and pants. I was happy to please as long as it got me closer to Sister Josephine.