by P J Stanley
“Oh, not really.” Emily forced a smile as she reached forward and grabbed her glass, taking a long sip of the ice water. She’d give anything to pop open the secret bottle of wine she had in the fridge, just down the whole thing and soak in the tub for the rest of the night.
“Did Cole have anything to say?” Hank asked as he stared back at Emily from across the small kitchen table.
“Nothing that I didn’t already know.”
“Emily, talk to me,” Hank said.
“I am talking to you.” Emily snapped, dropping her fork on the edge of the plate as it clattered against the rim.
“Barely.” Hank sighed, leaning back in his chair as his strong arms crossed over his chest. “I want to help you get through this, but I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me.”
“What do you want me to say, Hank? This isn’t something that I can just get through! This isn’t something that’ll just go away!”
“I know that, Emily.” Hank sighed as he scooted into the chair beside her and placed his arm around her. “I just want you to talk to me. If you want to cry, then cry. If you want to scream, then scream. I want you to know you’re okay.”
“You know, all I keep picturing in my head is my mother.” Emily nodded, staring down at the untouched pasta. “I promised myself that I would be a better mom than she ever was. I promised myself that I’d cherish my daughter and love her and protect her,” Emily said as she struggled not to choke, the tears running down her cheeks. “I’m just so scared that I’m going to end up just like her. I don’t want to lose Blair the way my mother lost me.”
“Listen to me,” Hank said as he lifted his hand and grabbed her chin, turning her face toward his. “You are not Roberta. You are not your mother. You have done everything you can do, Emily.”
“It just doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like I should be out there. I feel like if I was doing enough, she’d be here with me.” Emily sobbed.
“You have done more than your mother ever would have,” Hank said as his hand glided up her chin and cupped the side of her soft, pale cheek. “You have been a great mom and a great woman, and there’s not a damn thing that she can do or say to take that away from you.”
“She hasn’t even called.” Emily sniffed. “She probably doesn’t even know.”
“And she doesn’t deserve to know,” Hank said. “She was never here for the good times, so she doesn’t need to be here for the bad. I know you have regrets and I know you’re terrified of just an ounce of her residing inside of you. But you are not her, Em; you could never be,” Hank said. Emily smiled as Hank raised his other hand, running his finger through her warm tears and swiping them from her face. Emily jumped in her chair as the sound of her ringtone flooded the kitchen.
What if it was the police?
What if they found something?
Emily jumped from her chair and rushed to the counter, snatching her cellphone from the charger as she answered.
“Hello, this is Emily.”
“Hi, Miss Keller. This is Officer Hale of the Elwood Police Department,” the deep voice rang out through the speaker and into her ear.
“Yes, did you find Blair? Is she all right?” Emily asked as she turned to see Hank walking toward her.
“No, ma’am, not yet. But we did find something rather odd. You said that Blair spent the last year in Greece, correct?”
“Yes, she was there studying abroad. Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, we checked with the airlines and we also ran a scan on her passport. We also called Basler and confirmed with the dean and board of education.”
“Confirmed what?” Emily asked as she squeezed her phone tighter in her hand.
“Blair never went to Greece, Miss Keller. There is no record of her ever being there.”
Emily’s lips parted as her wide eyes glanced to Hank in front of her. Her stomach churned as she shook her head, unable to believe the words that just came through her speaker.
If Blair wasn’t in Greece…
Then where the hell was she for an entire year?
the box
Emily watched as the tiny water streams slithered down the windshield of her car. The plump raindrops smashed on the roof as she squinted, her eyes locked on the front entrance of Blair and Cole’s apartment complex. She knew Cole was hiding something. She knew there had to be more to the story. He had to have known where Blair was for this entire year. If she wasn’t in Greece, then where was she?
He knew.
It had to be him.
Emily sat up in the driver’s seat of her car as she watched the glass entrance door of the complex open. Cole stepped out into the rain, pulling the hood of his athletic sweatshirt over his head as he dashed forward, his black running shoes splashing through the puddles scattered along the concrete walkway.
This was her only chance.
She had to get inside.
Emily sank down, hiding from his view, as she watched Cole get into his red pickup truck and reverse.
It was now or never.
***
Emily’s black rain boots shuffled along the red hallway carpet as she made her way to Blair’s apartment door. Emily glanced up to the top of the door, stepping on her tiptoes as her fingers felt along the top of the wooden frame.
It had to be here.
A smile spread across Emily’s face as she felt the cool, brass surface of the tiny spare key graze her fingertips. Emily held the key in her trembling hands as she stabbed it into the door handle, turning the key. She had to be fast. She had no idea how long he’d be gone.
Emily rushed inside and closed the apartment door behind her as her eyes scanned the dim apartment, now immaculate and not a single piece of trash or empty beer bottle in sight. He finally cleaned up. Emily sped forward and stepped around the couch, staring down at the coffee table in front of her. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she knew something had to be here, anything to help her understand just what Blair was up to. Emily leaned down and pulled the large drawer of the coffee table open to see a tobacco pipe inside next to a small bag of weed and a peeling blue lighter.
“Good God.” Emily groaned, rolling her eyes as she slammed the drawer shut. Emily spun around, rushing forward and through the bedroom door. If Cole was hiding anything, it would be in here. Emily eyed the neatly made bed, the black comforter perfectly smoothed and folded with the black-and-white decorative pillows resting against the dark oak headboard. Emily leaned forward, pulling the drawer of the side table along the right side of the bed open. Emily’s fingers combed through the useless objects inside: a pack of condoms, a bottle of lube, and some junk mail. Emily sighed as she slammed the drawer shut and ran around the edge of the bed, making her way toward the left side.
Emily grabbed the drawer handle of the side table on the left side of the bed and pulled it open, her eyes widening.
A small, black .22 caliber stared back at her, the weapon placed on the top of a small, black, wooden box. Blair never told her they had a gun. Emily swallowed as she grabbed the gun in her hands and carefully placed it on the edge of the bed. Emily glanced back into the drawer as her eyes settled on the small, black box inside. Emily’s hands wrapped around the cold, hard edges as she lifted it into the air, eying the tiny keyhole on the top of the lid.
Emily knelt in front of the bed, placing the box on the mattress in front of her, as she ran her hands through her hair. She plucked a brown bobby pin from her hair, causing her bangs to fall over her eyes. Emily stuck the two prongs into her mouth and tightened them between her teeth, bending the prongs slightly.
Thank God for her criminal cousins.
Emily shoved the two prongs of the bobby pin into the keyhole of the black box and turned it to the left and to the right, the vibrating latches inside ticking and clicking against the metal prongs inside.
CLICK!
Emily smiled as she laid the bobby pin on the bed and lifted the lid of the b
lack box open. The large stack of Polaroid photos inside nearly spilled over the black edges of the box as Emily grabbed them in her hands. Emily stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through them.
All the pictures, random and foggy.
A zoomed-in picture of blue fabric.
A shot of a yellow sock on a wooden floor.
All of them, more random and useless than the last. Why would she keep these? What was the point of hanging on to them?
Emily flipped to the next Polaroid in the stack as her heart raced in her chest.
Blair’s face stared back at the camera. Her tiny button nose and her eyes, swollen with tears. Her thin, blonde curls draped her chubby cheeks. The bright flash of the camera, illuminating her soft, pale skin in a ghostly light. She couldn’t have been older than six in this picture.
Why did she look so scared?
Emily didn’t remember this…
Emily flipped to the next picture as her eyes widened. The stack of Polaroid photos fell from her hands and scattered on the hardwood floor. Emily’s stomach twisted and turned as the warm tears ran down her cheeks.
This couldn’t be real.
This couldn’t be happening.
Emily’s trembling hands covered her lips as she looked at the photos staring back at her from below.
Every single one, more grotesque and sicker than last. Her small, naked body sprawled out on the yellow sheets of her bed. The set of fingers grabbing and clawing at her inner thighs. Blair’s teary eyes staring back at the flash as she covered her bare chest with her tiny hands. This wasn’t a box of memories. It was a box of nightmares. And this nightmare had a name.
Mitch Bradley.
daddy
“Have you heard anything from the police about this professor?” Mitch Bradley asked as he walked up the spiral staircase of his apartment and stepped into his office. Emily followed behind, clutching the photographs in the pocket of her black peacoat.
“No, nothing yet,” Emily said as she watched Mitch settle into the chair at his desk. He spun around, facing Emily as she sat down on the brown leather sofa across from him.
“Then what did you want to talk about?” Mitch asked, leaning back into his chair, rocking. Emily fought every single urge inside of her to not charge toward him and wrap her hands around his throat. How could he do this? How could he abuse their own daughter? How sick was he?
“I underestimated you, Mitch,” Emily said as Mitch stood up, making his way toward the small bar in the corner of his office.
“People tend to,” Mitch said as he reached up into a cabinet above the bar and grabbed a small scotch glass. Mitch slammed the glass on the top of the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack, pouring it into the glass, straight up.
“I just can’t seem to wrap my head around all of this,” Emily said as she felt her blood boil inside of her.
“The police are doing everything they can, Emily. All we can do is hope and pray that she is all right, that she comes home,” Mitch said as he took a long sip from the glass in his hand, resting his back against the edge of the bar.
“I’m not talking about the disappearance, Mitch,” Emily said as her eyes lifted, settling on Mitch from across the room.
“Care to fill me in?”
“I’d love to,” Emily snarled as she stood and marched toward Mitch. Emily reached into her pocket and brought the photographs out. Emily thrust them at Mitch. The large stack slammed against his chest and flew through the air, cascading on the wooden floor below. “Tell me, Mitch! How long, huh? How fucking long?”
Mitch set his glass on the edge of the bar as he leaned down, grabbing one of the photographs. He stood, the photo trembling in his hand, his eyes scanning the picture. Six-year-old Blair, staring back at the camera, her naked body on full display. Mitch’s dark eyes lifted, locking on Emily in front of him.
“Emily—”
“Tell me, Mitch! How fucking long? How fucking long were you doing this? To OUR daughter!” Emily screamed as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Emily, this isn’t what you think! Now, just calm down!” Mitch snapped as he threw the photograph on the floor.
“Calm down? You expect me to calm down, Mitch! It’s you! You’re in the photos! The hands on her body, they are wearing YOUR wedding ring! Take a look, Mitch!” Emily snarled as she leaned down, snatching a few pictures into her quivering hands. “Take a good fucking look!” Emily screamed as she shoved the photographs into his face, slamming them into his nose and cheeks.
“Stop it! Stop!” Mitch spat, swiping his hand against hers as the photos scattered. “I never hurt her!”
“You never hurt her?” Emily cried out. “Look at her face! Look at her tears! You raped our own daughter! YOU violated your OWN daughter!”
“If you would just listen and let me explain,” Mitch growled as he turned away from Emily, marching toward his desk.
“I’m done!” Emily screamed as she grabbed Mitch’s scotch glass from the bar and threw it at him. The liquor flew through the air, splattering on the floor, as the glass twirled.
“God damn it!” Mitch yelled as he ducked, the glass missing his head by a few inches. The glass smashed into the mirror above his desk as the shards flew through the air, clattering on the desk.
“I’m done listening! I’m done trying to understand why you do the fucking things you do, Mitch!” Emily yelled as she charged toward him.
“Emily, stop it!”
“Is that what she said, Mitch? Did she beg you to stop? Did she plead and cry and scream? How fucking sick and pathetic are you?” Emily snarled as she threw her hands forward, slamming them against Mitch’s chest. Mitch stumbled back a few feet, his fists clenching at his sides. “You are her father! You were supposed to protect her! You were supposed to keep her safe!” Emily cried, slamming her hands against his sturdy chest.
“What was I supposed to do, huh?” Mitch yelled as his hands lunged forward, wrapping around the sides of her shirt collar. Mitch dragged Emily toward him, their chests pressing together, as his eyes burned into her. “While you were drunk off your fucking ass! While you were passed out on the damn couch!”
“Get off of me!” Emily screamed as Mitch shook her violently, her shoes sliding along the wooden floor.
“I showed her more love than any other man will ever show her in her entire lifetime,” Mitch growled, his teeth grinding together between his thin lips. Emily’s nails then dug into the tops of Mitch’s hands, shredding into the tender flesh. Mitch then threw Emily back, shoving her away. Emily tumbled back, slamming on her side on the cold, hardwood floor. Emily struggled to catch her breath as Mitch straddled her, pinning her on the floor. His strong hands wrapped around both of her wrists, pinning them above her head as he stared down into her teary eyes.
“Get off of me! Help! Someone!” Emily cried out. Her legs kicked back and forth. Her wrists twirled to the left and right. But he was too strong. She knew exactly how Blair had felt.
Powerless.
Defeated.
“I was a good father, Emily! I always loved her, and I always took care of her!” Mitch screamed as spit flew from his lips, plastering on Emily’s face. “You don’t know how much I loved that little girl!”
Emily then lifted her right leg, slamming her knee into Mitch’s groin. Mitch screamed, his cries gurgling in his throat, as she threw her hands up and slammed them against his chest. Mitch fell back, slamming on the floor as Emily turned and crawled forward.
The stairs, just a few feet away.
“Emily!” Mitch yelled as he stood and charged toward her. Emily screamed as she felt Mitch’s strong hands wrap around a chunk of her hair from behind.
“AH! Someone!” Emily cried out as Mitch dragged her up to her feet and spun her toward him. Mitch then grabbed her by her throat, tightening his grip as his red eyes stared back at her.
“Do you think I’d really let you walk out of here? Do you think I’d let you ruin everything that
I worked so hard for?”
“You killed her. You killed her, didn’t you?” Emily sobbed.
“I could never hurt her! Don’t even say that!” Mitch snapped.
“You could kill me, though, couldn’t you? Go ahead. Do it,” Emily said, clearing her throat, and spat forward. The saliva spewed from between her lips and splattered on Mitch’s nose. Mitch’s jaw tightened as he turned to the right and threw her forward. “AH!” Emily cried out as she rolled down the spiral staircase, every step slamming and stabbing into her sides and back. Emily slammed against the steel banister and rolled on the foyer floor. A long high-pitched ringing flooded her ears as she felt her head throb. Emily turned on her stomach as she glanced up to see Mitch descending the stairs.
He was going to kill her.
He was never going to let his dirty little secret leave this place alive.
“Someone!” Emily cried out as Mitch leaped off the last step, his boots slamming on the wooden floor.
“Don’t make this harder than it already has to be,” Mitch snarled as he leaned down, reaching for Emily’s ankles. Emily then threw her right leg back, slamming the bottom of her shoe into Mitch’s stomach. Mitch cried out in agony as he tumbled back, slamming against the wall. Emily limped to her feet and ran forward, dashing into the dark kitchen. Emily’s eyes scanned the kitchen and settled on the knife block on the edge of the counter. She rushed forward and wrapped her hand around the handle of a large butcher knife and ripped it out.
Mitch charged toward her, his arms wrapped around her from behind, locking her arms at her sides.
“Someone help!” Emily screamed, kicking. Mitch turned and threw her forward. Emily’s body slammed on the center island and rolled over the edge. She hit the tile kitchen floor on the other side of the island as the knife slipped from her grasp, spinning along the slick tile surface. Emily turned on her stomach and started crawling toward the knife…
Mitch rushed around the center island and snatched it into his hands.
“Please just stop this,” Mitch begged as tears trickled down his cheeks.
“She was your daughter, Mitch.” Emily sobbed as she reached up, her hands wrapping around the edge of the center island countertop. “Why do this?” Emily cried as she pulled herself to her feet, her long strands of hair plastered to her wet cheeks.