by P J Stanley
“I never wanted to hurt her or you,” Mitch cried as the knife trembled in his right hand. “I didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“You can still do the right thing. You can turn yourself in. You don’t have to do this. Please,” Emily begged as her legs quivered.
“It’s too late for that.” Mitch sobbed as he lifted the knife into the air.
“Mitch, please!” Emily screamed, raising her right hand up, ready to block the long, sharp, glistening blade. Mitch then brought the knife to his throat, his red eyes staring back at Emily.
“Tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry,” Mitch cried as he closed his eyes and ripped the blade across the front of his throat.
“No!” Emily screamed as the blade sliced through the front of Mitch’s tender neck. A large slit spread across his entire throat. Blood gushed down his chest. The blood trickled down his gray sweater and splashed on the tile floor below as Mitch’s dead eyes widened. Emily covered her mouth, her entire body trembling as Mitch’s dead body fell back, landing on the tile floor.
hidden
Emily stared at her blood-stained hands that were placed on the surface of the metal table in front of her. She could still feel Mitch’s pulse pulsating against her palms, his throat throbbing as she tried to stop the bleeding. But it was too late. He was gone in seconds. Emily closed her eyes as the flashes soared through her head: the blood, the knife, his eyes. She wanted him to pay for what he had done to Blair, but not like this. He deserved to suffer. He deserved to sit in a cell and rot.
“You’re lucky there were security cameras inside the apartment; otherwise, we would be having a very different conversation right now,” Sheriff Alan Ross said as his deep, raspy voice rang in Emily’s ears.
“I didn’t want this to happen.” Emily sniffled as she stared down at the blood beneath her long fingernails.
“Nobody blames you, Emily.” Sheriff Ross nodded as he sat down across from her inside the dimly lit interrogation room inside of the Elwood police department. “But I do have to ask: Did you know? Did you know what he was doing to Blair?”
“God, no,” Emily said in disgust. “I found the pictures in her apartment earlier. I went over there to confront him, to convince him to turn himself in. I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t see them. I couldn’t just pretend nothing happened.”
“Did you ask him about Blair? Did he take her?” Sheriff Ross asked as the fluorescent light that shimmered down from above flickered against his bald head.
“He said he didn’t.” Emily shook her head, staring at the table.
“Did you believe him?”
The truth was that Emily didn’t know what to believe anymore. She had never imagined that Mitch could be capable of such a horrific act. How could she not have seen it? How could she not have noticed the signs? She knew this was her fault. She knew that if she hadn’t had her head stuck on the bottle, she would have noticed. Emily couldn’t help but feel like this was all her fault. If she had been there, in her right state of mind, she could have stopped this.
“I don’t think he could kill her,” Emily said as her voice quivered. “He was clearly sick, but I don’t think he had anything to do with this.”
“I do want you to know that we are doing everything that we can, Miss Keller. We’re still watching for activity on her phone and credit cards. If she’s out there, I promise you we will find her,” Sheriff Ross said.
“Just bring her home,” Emily said as her teary eyes lifted. “Just bring my baby home.”
***
Emily closed her eyes as the hot water rained down on her from the showerhead. All she wanted to do was scrub the blood off. All she wanted to do was to scrub this entire night off her body. Emily’s eyes fluttered open as she grabbed the shower handle in front of her and turned it all the way to hot. She closed her eyes, inhaling the hot steam. Emily turned, letting the hot water rain down her bare back as she lifted her hands, staring down at the pieces of dried blood peeling from her soft, tender palms.
Emily hung her head forward as her long, wet hair draped her face, the tears flooding down her cheeks as she lowered herself down, sitting on the shower floor as the water rained down on her. She brought her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly as she rested her chin on her right knee.
Mitch was dead.
Blair was missing.
How much more could she handle? How much more heartache and pain and damage could her body take before it shut down? How many more sleepless nights could she endure? How many more days, or months —years, even — was she going to spend wondering exactly what happened to her daughter? The waves of doubt rushed inside her, crashing and rolling, shattering every positive thought that tried to swim through her mind. There was nothing else she could do. She had nothing else left to give.
***
Emily tied the straps of her white robe closed as she squinted in the bright, blinding light shining from the open refrigerator. She tossed her wet hair behind her shoulders as she reached inside, grabbing a bottle of wine.
She couldn’t pretend that everything was okay.
She couldn’t pretend any more that she didn’t need it. The thirst ravaged her, inside and out, slashing through her as she pulled the cork off. It was her favorite sound. Emily rested her back against the fridge and wrapped her lips around the bottle. She lifted the bottle, ready for its quenching power, as her eyes settled on the black, wooden box on her kitchen table. Emily pulled the bottle from her lips as she swallowed.
She shouldn’t have brought it home.
She should have left it in the drawer back at Cole and Blair’s apartment.
But it was another piece of Blair that she could have, another piece she could hold onto until she was found. Emily stared at the bottle in her hand and closed her eyes. She could still hear Blair’s giggle. She could still see her bright smile. She could still smell her sweet coconut shampoo. Emily’s jaw tightened as she took a deep breath and turned toward the sink. She flipped the bottle upside down as she watched the precious, red liquid splash into the sink, circling the drain.
She was done feeding her demons.
She was finished with the cage she had locked herself inside. Enough was enough. Emily turned from the sink, slamming the empty wine bottle into the trashcan beside the kitchen doorway. She sat at the kitchen table, rubbing her tired eyes. She had to figure this out. She had to understand.
Why would Blair lie about all of this?
Who would want to hurt her, and why?
Emily reached forward and pulled the small, wooden box toward her, lifting the lid. Blair had kept a few photos inside, ones from her seventh birthday at the Ridgefield Park. Emily smiled to herself as she grabbed the photos from inside, staring back at Blair’s smiling face, her bottom two teeth missing. Her soft, blonde curls dancing across her forehead as she held on a pink balloon.
Emily stared into the small, empty box, her eyes studying the brown bottom. Something was off, the dimensions …
Emily lifted the small wooden box into the air in front of her. The box was roughly four inches tall, so why was there only an inch of storage space inside? She put the box back on the table and ran her finger along the edges of the bottom.
It was loose.
Emily pressed her long fingernail between the edge of the bottom and the wall of the box, lifting the faux bottom.
Blair always was a smart girl.
Emily’s eyes widened as she lifted the false bottom out, setting the thin piece of brown wood on the table. Emily stared into the box to see an additional three inches inside. Her eyes settled on a blank, white piece of paper. She swallowed as she grabbed the tiny parchment and turned it in her hands.
“Oh, my God,” Emily gasped as the photograph trembled in her right hand. Emily brought her left hand to her mouth, struggling not to scream.
As she stared back at the sonogram photo.
honesty
“What the hell do you mean she was pre
gnant?” Cole scoffed as he stared back at Emily who sat on the center of his couch.
“I found the sonogram in her memory box,” Emily said, almost whispering.
“Wait, you took it?”
“So you knew about it?” Emily asked, shaking her head to herself.
“I mean, she told me it was just old photos and toys from her childhood. I didn’t want to invade her privacy. I knew it was in her side table.” Cole shrugged as he plopped down into the recliner across from Emily.
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
“No, I just told you that!” Cole snapped. “If she was, she would have told me! There is no damn way she would have kept this from me.”
“Oh, you mean like how she kept Professor Alden a secret from you?” Emily groaned.
“That was different, and I talked to her about it. If she was pregnant,” Cole said, nearly choking on the words, “it isn’t mine. We always used protection; well, most of the time. But we were always, always careful.”
“Clearly not careful enough,” Emily said as she pulled out the sonogram from her peacoat pocket and slammed it on the coffee table. Cole swallowed hard as his eyes rested on the sonogram image.
“I’m telling you, Miss Keller, it isn’t mine.”
“Then that leaves one other person,” Emily said as she reached forward, snatching the sonogram from the table.
***
“This is ludicrous.” Professor Alden smirked as he dropped the sonogram on the top of his desk.
“Is it? Maybe that’s why you killed her,” Emily snarled as she sat in the chair across from Professor Alden in his tiny office.
“I sure loved having the police haul my ass into the precinct the other day. That was a lovely ending to my glorious day.” Johnathan smirked as he crossed his arms.
“You really thought I wouldn’t say something? You’re lucky I didn’t tell the dean.” Emily snarled.
“Well, I’m free, aren’t I? Do you see me behind any bars?” Alden asked, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on his desk.
“No, not yet,” Emily said. “All I want to know is if there is any possibility this was your baby.”
“Well, if it is, I’ll make quite a killing with a hefty lawsuit,” Johnathan smirked.
“What do you mean?”
“I got the old snippety-snip two years ago after my first mistake. I had to make sure that didn’t happen again,” he winked. “Now, if you’re done harassing me, I’ve got a class in five minutes.”
september
Emily wrapped her hands around the edge of the front desk counter inside of the Elwood Memorial Hospital, staring back at the female receptionist as her long, neon yellow acrylic nails tapped rapidly against a computer keyboard in front of her. The young woman’s eyes fluttered up and away from the computer screen in front of her, settling on Emily.
“What can I help you with?” The woman sighed.
“I just need to get some medical records.” Emily nodded.
“All right, you will have to sign a release form. What is your date of birth?”
“It’s actually for my daughter. Her name is Blair Bradley and her date of birth is July twenty-eighth, nineteen-ninety-nine.”
“Well, I can only release the records to you if you are included on her HIPPA,” the receptionist said as she typed the date.
“Why?”
“She is over eighteen, so me releasing those records to you without her consent or a signed HIPPA form would be illegal, ma’am,” the receptionist scoffed as she moved her mouse to the left and then to the right.
“She’s my daughter, though. Doesn’t that mean anything?” Emily sighed, resting her elbows on the edge of the counter.
“Not in the medical world.” The woman smirked. “It looks like you were not included on her HIPPA form, so I can’t do anything for you.”
“Is there a manager of someone I can talk to? She’s missing and I really, really need those records,” Emily asked, shaking her head.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there is nothing we can do. We cannot violate that policy. If we did, there would be serious consequences. I really don’t feel like getting fired and having to go flip greasy patties again at the Burger Shack.” the receptionist smirked.
“Oh, my God.” Emily sighed as she glanced to her left, her eyes scanning the chaotic waiting room that surrounded her. Emily watched as a nurse sped through the waiting room, smoothing out her wrinkled light blue scrub top with a clipboard clenched against her chest. She had to get creative.
“So, is there anything else I might be able to help you with today?” the receptionist asked, breaking Emily out of her trance.
“No, thank you.” Emily smiled as she moved to her left, making her way toward the tiny café kiosk in the corner of the large waiting room.
***
Emily wrapped her hand around the paper cup, the coffee warming her palm as she turned from the coffee bar counter, her eyes carefully studying the waiting room a few feet ahead.
She had to wait for the right moment.
She had to be patient. If she didn’t pull this off, she’d never get the records. She would never know anything about her daughter’s child, her own grandchild. Emily’s eyes drifted to the right as a set of silver elevator doors parted. She watched as a tall, gangly nurse stepped out of the elevator, her short, black hair tied up in a high ponytail.
This was her chance. Emily walked forward, stepping out into the walkway between the café and the waiting room. She pressed her back against the corner wall as she heard the nurses’ pounding footsteps looming closer and closer. Emily held her breath and spun to her right, circling around the corner, slamming into the nurse.
“Oh, my God!” Emily cried out as her hand tightened around the paper cup, the coffee splashing through the air and against her chest. Emily released her purse that dangled from her shoulder, letting it clatter to the tile floor. Her teeth ground behind her closed lips, the hot coffee trickling down her shirt, as the nurse’s wide eyes stared back at her, a few drops of coffee dripping down her chin.
“Oh, my gosh! I am so sorry!” the nurse said, placing her hand against her own chest as she struggled to catch her breath. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“No, I am fine! I should have watched where I was going!” Emily smiled as the nurse quickly knelt down, grabbing at the spilled contents of Emily’s purse. “Don’t worry about it! I can get all this!” Emily said, leaning down in front of her.
“No, it’s my fault. I am so sorry.” The nurse sighed as she turned away from Emily, grabbing a tube of lipstick behind her.
This was her chance.
Emily’s hand shot forward, grabbing the ID tag clipped to the top edge of the nurse’s scrub pants. She quickly shoved the laminated tag into the pocket of her coat as the nurse turned back toward her, handing her the lipstick.
“Let me get you some paper towels!” the nurse said, standing as Emily shoved the lipstick into her purse.
“No, please don’t bother. You’ve done enough. You’ve got lives to save.” Emily smiled. “Just go.”
“I am so sorry,” the nurse said as she spun around, making her way toward the waiting room ahead. Emily’s heart raced in her chest as she stood up, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. Emily’s right hand slithered into the right pocket of her coat. She felt the cold, slick surface of the ID card inside.
Perfect.
***
Emily’s trembling hand tightened around the metal door handle in front of her as she turned, peeking out into the busy hospital hallway. She had finally found the nurses’ locker room on the third floor. She swallowed hard as she stared at the spare set of scrubs she had found in a locker, the itchy fabric prickling at her burning chest.
Now, she just had to find the records room.
Emily stepped out into the chaotic hallway as two nurses rushed around her, making their way toward the right end of the corridor as a young man on a stretcher was w
heeled into a room. Emily turned to her left, scanning the long hallway as she walked along the front of the nurse’s vacant patient check-out desk. It had to be somewhere around here. It couldn’t be too far. She had to act. Fast.
Emily sped around the corner of the hospital corridor, passing the numerous doors that lined both sides of the hallway. Her eyes narrowed on the dark, wooden door at the end of the hall. Her eyes squinted in the bright fluorescent light above as she read the words printed on the glass window in the center:
RECORDS
Emily sped forward, her legs moving fast as she glanced back; the coast, clear. She reached forward and turned the door handle. Locked. She glanced to the right, staring back at the small key scanner mounted to the door beneath the handle. Emily quickly pulled the laminated ID tag from the pocket of her scrub pants and flipped it over, looking at the barcode on the back. She held the code beneath the glowing, red scanner as she heard the door click open.
“Thank God.” Emily sighed, releasing the breath she was holding, as she stepped into the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind her. Emily stared forward, her eyes scanning the filing cabinets lined neatly in rows throughout the room. She sped forward, making her way down the first aisle of filing cabinets, all in alphabetical order, each cabinet labeled with a bold letter tag. Emily stepped up to the tall file cabinet in front of her, staring back at the bold “B” on the front. She wrapped her hands around the cold, steel handle and pulled it open, looking at the numerous dividers separating each set of records, the patient names written on the top edge of each folder. Emily ran her fingers through the files, searching for Blair’s name.
It had to be here.
Emily’s heart sank in her chest as she spotted Blair’s name. Her fingers dug between the folders, grasping Blair’s file. Emily dragged the folder out from the cabinet and slammed it on the top of the stacked files inside, flipping the folder wide open. Emily stared down at Blair’s demographics sheet, a photo of her smiling back at the camera with all of her basic information printed below. Emily flipped through the documents, searching for anything that might stick out, anything that would lead her to the truth. Her eyes then widened as they settled on a birth certificate. Emily grabbed the piece of paper, the parchment trembling in her hands.