“Don’t mention it,” Angela replied.
“Have a good night,” Frank replied, shutting his eyes.
“You, too.” Angela returned to her room and shut the door behind her. She paused for a moment, allowing herself to breathe. The day’s events gave her a hammering headache, and the cold wasn’t much help. She found herself sniffling and fatigued. Getting sick was not what she needed right now. She glanced at the posters of various alternative rock bands she idolized in her youth. There were books she had to read for her classes, and also a few of her father’s crime novels.
After putting on some long underwear she found in the middle drawer of her dresser, she realized the stuff she had at the age of eighteen still fit her. She grabbed one of the crime novels, turned off the main light, and climbed into bed, using the lamp on the bedside stand to illuminate the words on the page. She had read it when she was fourteen. It was her main connection with her father. Hitch wouldn’t let her drive the Charger yet, and the cabin was too painful a place to visit. Thus, she settled for her father’s fiction. The hero was Jack Bowser, a successful young lawyer who gets on the wrong side of the law when he exposes the police chief’s biggest secret. He ends up saving some damsel and outwitting the police chief into admitting to his crime on tape. After reading a page, Angela rested the open book face down on her chest and let out a deflated sigh. She wondered if her father would be proud of her for turning his books into reality. Only she was a woman, and instead of a damsel, there was an alcoholic investigator. Angela knew that Hitch wasn’t enthusiastic about her becoming an investigator, but never fully denounced her decision.
“If that’s what you want to do with your life…” he said, making his stance clear. It was what Angela wanted to do. She wanted to help people learn the truth. She wanted to dig deep into someone’s past to learn some hidden truths about her own. What she learned was that everyone had issues, and working through their problems gave her some temporary encouragement. It never lasted. Soon, she’d go back to that night and try to figure out if there was some clue she forgot. She never recalled anything solid. Now that she was on the case again and had a chance for real answers, she felt terrified, scared, and tiny.
She shut her eyes, seeing her father fight off the assailant. It was blurry, as if she were watching the fight from a rain-spattered window. Her father punched and kicked. His upper arms had blood down the sleeve of his ugly Christmas sweater. Nevertheless, his adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain. He punched back. The shadowy figure stepped out of the way of the blow and stuck Thomas in the belly. He fell against the Christmas tree, knocking it over, but managed to stay standing. He pushed himself into the shadow, trying to get the knife from his hand. He held his wrist in place, but the killer drew out a second blade from a sheath in the back of the belt. The moment Thomas freed the killer of one blade, the second swiped across his neck. Thomas grabbed his throat, unsure what just happened. He staggered backwards and collapsed to the ground next to Angela.
Angela’s eyes shot open. Breathing heavily and drenched in sweat, she looked around the dark. Was it a dream or a memory? She assumed the latter. Dread pressed down on her. She didn’t recall any pain in the flashback. Her father must’ve fallen before the butterfly mark was made. Drenched in cold sweat, she looked up the white ceiling. There were glow-in-the-dark stars she and Hitch put up when she was thirteen. They were dim now and only noticeable in complete blackness. She checked the time. It was 2am. She must’ve fallen sleep for a few hours. Angela swiveled out of bed. She bundled up in some warm clothes from the closet and headed to the kitchen without looking into the living room. She brewed up some hot chocolate and stepped out into the night. Leaning against the railing at the back porch, she looked out at the dark, untamed hill beyond the field in the backyard.
The rocking chair creaked next to her. Startled, she turned to her right, noticing Frank seated in the rocking chair. Heart pounding, Angela took a sip of her hot chocolate.
“What are you doing up?” Angela asked, trying not to seem surprised by his unexpected presence.
Frank shrugged, keeping his tired eyes on the dark. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Angela nodded in agreement and sipped. The hot liquid seared the tip of her tongue, forcing her to slow down. She breathed, seeing her breath mist in front of her. Steam rose out of her mug. There was an awkward silence hanging in the air.
“You don’t like me very much,” Frank said.
Angela didn’t respond.
“That’s fair,” Frank said. “I’m not your biggest fan either.”
Angela didn’t know why, but his words hurt. She blew on her hot chocolate and reminded herself that she was an adult. It wasn’t about liking or not liking someone, it was about getting the job done. “What did Iris think of you?”
Frank smiled to himself. “She looked at me like I was her knight in shining armor. In this line of work, such a response is rare.”
“Tell me about it,” Angela said. “Most people don’t even say thank you.”
“Granted, we did just tell them their spouse had an affair,” Frank replied with a grin.
“Touché,” Angela said.
A chilling breeze splashed against them.
Frank rocked the chair. “What is the biggest case you worked?”
Angela thought on it. “There was a town official, I can’t give any names, but his daughter went missing. He didn’t want the police to get involved, because it would look bad for his image. I didn’t understand his motive for not bringing them in at first, but when I realized that his daughter ran off with local meth dealers, I knew things were going to get complicated. I went up to the den where they were hiding out. It was some trailer park in the middle of nowhere, high on the mountains and away from the world. The girl didn’t want leave, of course. She was in love with one of the dealers and hated her father. I realized the boyfriend and his cronies weren’t interested in letting me leave now that I had found her.”
“What did you do?”
Angela took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I ran like hell. I came back that night. Took some pictures of the various dealers as they cleaned up their meth lab and contacted the police. While the raid was underway, I snuck in and grabbed the girl. She wasn’t happy, but she knew that going to the police would be stupid. I met her father that evening at a place of his choosing and closed the case.”
“What happened to the girl?” Frank asked.
“She went to a nice college and lived a fairly normal life,” Angela replied. “She hated me and deserted her father, but things were better. The public never found out about it, and the official pointed me to other clientele with similar needs,” Angela clenched her teeth for a moment. “That didn’t last long.”
“Let me guess, they put you on finding blackmail material on their competitors, used your skills to cover up scandals, and tried to get in your pants?” Frank asked.
Angela turned to him, her long hair blowing against her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear. “I see you’ve had a similar experience.”
Frank chuckled. “This isn’t glamorous work, what we do. Half of the time you don’t know if you're preventing a crime or causing one.”
“That’s why I stayed small-time,” Angela replied. “Big money players are only looking to ensnare someone more morally flexible than a cop, but probably just as or more knowledgeable of the law and investigative procedures.”
Frank didn’t reply to that. He looked out at the darkness, the smile gone from his face. Angela could almost sense his conviction. She didn’t need to say anything more. The man had enough regrets. After finishing her drink, she said goodnight and returned to her room. She tried to fall back to sleep but couldn’t. It was the moment that she gave up trying that she eventually drifted away.
The next morning, Hitch cooked them all breakfast. After saying grace, they feasted on eggs, sausage links, and hash browns.
“Where y’all off to?” Hitch asked, noticing Ange
la and Frank already wearing their winter jackets.
“The house where the Trents were killed,” Angela replied.
“I see,” Hitch said. “…Well, stay safe, you hear.”
After eating, Angela used her phone to snap pictures of the various documents on her father’s living room floor. When she finished, she carried them into her room so her father wouldn’t have to look at them while they were away.
Equipping herself with the necessities, Angela climbed into her Charger and started toward the location of the second set of murders.
Chapter Six
House by the Lake
A thin layer of snow covered the frozen lake. The dock and lack of trees were the only indicators that the body of water existed. Nestled against the body of ice was an appealing house with multiple bedrooms and bathrooms. It had three peaks, two stories, and was shaped like a boomerang.
It was clear why the killer chose this location: the house was located at the end of a web of winding back roads that were slick with ice and branched into multiple mini-mansions scattered through the mountains. It was a side of Ashton Angela never saw growing up. During the summer months, businessmen, lawyers, and other wealthy patrons would hunker down around this area for the obvious reasons. Cheap land and isolation.
The house had undergone some serious renovation since the crime scene. There was now an indoor garage and sunroom. Also, the steep and tall hillside to the side of the house was in the process of being stripped away. What was once a mound of grass and trees was now a forty-foot cliff of red mud that seemed to curve inward at the center. A bulldozer and other industrial equipment were stationed nearby. Whoever was doing the landscaping either ran out of money or picked the worst time of the year to do yard work. Angela’s last theory was that the owner brought it up here doing the fall, didn’t finish the job, and couldn’t get the gear back down the mountain without risking it getting lost on the way down.
Angela parked in the driveway. There was no other car there. She looked up at the white sky gently spilling snowflakes onto the earth. It was a quiet day and the wind was still. Looking out the lake filled Angela with nostalgia. She remembered her parents teaching her how to ice skate. Her mother loved it. Her father was a klutz, though he’d never admit it. They went once before that fateful Christmas.
Frank parked his Jeep next to her. He blew on his hands as he shut the vehicle’s door with his hip.
“No one’s home?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.
Angela sniffled. Her nose, cheeks, and the top of her ears were glowing in the cold. Despite the bright-colored sky and warm looking day, it was the coldest she’d felt all winter. “It doesn’t look like it.”
Frank walked to the window of the house and cupped his hands around his face as he looked into the glass. “You’re right. No lights are on.”
Just to be certain, Angela went to the doorbell. She punched it with her pointer finger. Through the walls, she could hear the faint chime of the doorbell.
Angela buried her hands deep into her pockets and glanced about the house. She was confident that the house was empty. Frank walked around the side of the house and vanished around the corner. Angela peered inside, making sure no one was home.
“Frank,” she called out.
No reply.
She followed his footprints, seeing him standing by the back door. He knocked.
“Now what?” Frank asked.
Angela knew what he wanted her to say. She groaned. “We need to get inside.”
A wicked grin grew on Frank’s face. “Are you sure that isn’t against your code of ethics?”
Angela disregarded that. She pulled out her auto lock picker that was shaped like a gun and slid it into the lock on the knob. After a few moments, the door unlocked. Angela opened the door and peered inside. The washroom was separated by an open door into the kitchen.
Angela took a step. “Hello?”
The house seemed to swallow up her word. Frank followed her inside. They flipped the light switch. The place had the necessary appliances but was still empty in many regards. There was no wall decor or food in the fridge.
“Owners must’ve gone for the summer,” Frank replied.
“Better for us,” Angela replied.
Frank asked, “What do you hope to find?”
That was a good question. “Anything that matches with the crime scene photos,” Angela replied. “If the killer is familiar with me, he knows that I would be going from place to place looking for clues. Maybe he left another puzzle-piece message or something of the like.”
Frank and Angela moved through the house. They searched around the master bedroom upstairs first as that was where the couple was murdered. The floorboards were the same as in the crime scene photos but appeared to be bleached and free of any blood residue. The closet where the girl was hiding was spotless as well. Whoever had bought the house did a great job of restoring it.
Angela was a little disappointed that the homeowners were away. She would’ve asked them if they had found anything unusual when they had moved in, such as a wedding ring. Nevertheless, the person that lived here liked keeping their life private, because there was not a single photograph to be found in the entire house. Outside, the snow started kicking up along with the wind.
Frank called her name. He was hunched by the bed and shining a flashlight beneath the frame. Angela crouched down with him and looked at the carving on the ground. Angela couldn’t see it fully from this vantage point. With Frank’s help, she pushed the queen-sized bed aside and looked at the floorboard with a butterfly carved onto the slates of the wood. It was the same one that was on Angela’s and Iris’s backs. Angela took off her glove. She snapped a photograph of it and started comparing it to the crime photos and report.
“The officer in charge of the case never mentioned something like this,” Angela said.
“Look,” Frank said, scooping up some ant-sized wood chips with his finger. “No dust. This was recent.”
Angela felt her skin crawl. She instinctively reached for her gun. Frank walked to the window and looked out at the lake. The snowfall worsened, turning the world into a white haze. He gestured for Angela. She joined him by the windowsill. Frank pointed at something. It took Angela a moment to look past the falling snow and see the vehicle parked on the same side of the lake as them, but farther away. Angela could tell it was a sedan of some sort, but not the make or model.
“Was that there when we came in?” Frank asked.
Angela glanced at the curving road running to the house. To the right side of it, a cluster of evergreen sentry trees obscured the lake and the small clearing where the other mysterious car was parked. If it had been there before, she would not have seen it from the road.
Frank and Angela stepped out of the master bedroom and into the hallway when they heard the rumble outside. Angela put up her hand, gesturing for Frank to stop. She tilted her head slightly as she listened to the odd sound.
“Hear that?” Angela asked.
Frank listened for a moment with his lips slightly parted. He turned to her. “Yeah. What do you think that is?”
Angela had the same question. She headed for the nearest door--a bathroom--and walked to the window. She peered down at her black Charger and Frank’s Jeep. Beyond the vehicles was the forty-foot high cliff with a red mud face that was the color of dried blood. The industrial equipment was all accounted for except for the bulldozer. Angela felt her heart race. Something that big didn’t just vanish. Her eyes traced the machine’s tread track across the snow and dirt, all the way to the massive industrial vehicle smashing into the front wall of the house!
The impact shook the entire building, and the loud crash followed by the crunch of wood could be heard in every room.
Frank cursed. He looked to Angela with wide eyes. “What the--”
The floor rocked beneath their feet. Angela grabbed the towel rack to keep her balance. Frank’s back slammed against the wall.
“We need to go,” Angela said fiercely. “Right now.”
She pushed her way out of the bathroom just as she felt gravity pulling her forward and downward. Scrambling, Angela grabbed Frank’s wrist and run for stairs. There was a loud crack that caused Angela’s insides to shift. The entire second floor snapped and crumbled into the lake.
Angela fell towards the wall, but Frank’s body broke her impact.
Ice creaked. Windows shattered. Wood split. Frank gasped. The air had been knocked out of him. Angela rolled off him. She patted him on the cheek. “Hey, hey. Come on. Get it together.”
Frank’s face scrunched in pain. The wall had become the floor. The floor had become the wall behind Angela. The house was still moving downward. It took Angela a second to realize she was sinking. Water spilled out of the bedroom door that was now part of the wall. An inch of it rolled toward them, hitting Frank’s back. He went tense and got up swiftly.
Side by side, they ran toward the stairwell, only to realize it was descending into the lake of icy water.
“The bathroom window!” Angela exclaimed.
They two of them turned around as the water sloshed against their ankles and seeped into their shoes. Angela felt the freezing cold water curl around her toes and soak her socks. The place was going down quickly. Very quickly. They reached the bathroom. Frank moved aside.
“You first,” he said firmly.
Angela didn’t protest. She grabbed ahold of the rim of the sink that was now facing outward. Mustering all her arm strength, she pulled herself up. She used the faucet as her grip, only to have it snap out of the ceramic. She slipped backward. Frank caught her just under the knees and helped propel her upward. The water was up to his shins.
His teeth chattered. “I appreciate your cautious attitude, Angela, but you need to move.”
Angela managed to get both hands on the far end of the sink’s edge that would normally have been the left side but was now the top. The cords of her muscles grew taut as she pulled herself up to where she could rest her stomach on the rim of the sink. She grabbed the towel rack beyond. It twirled in her hand, but gave her enough reach to brush the window, but not the latch that sealed it. She leaned farther, feeling herself slipping. Her fingertips touched the latch. Fully extended, she undid the latch and slid open the window. Large snowflakes rained down on her face and into her eyes. She squinted as she grabbed the two sides of the window. She glanced down at Frank, seeing him with water up to his knees.
Secret Memories Page 7