Accepted Memories (Sycamore P.D. Series Book 2)

by T. E. Killian

  Stan looked Alison in the eye and said, “Alison, you can’t stay here tonight. You’re coming home with me.”

  “No, I’m not staying here, but you can just take me to Sybil’s house.”

  “Alison, it’s past midnight now. We don’t want to disturb Sybil and Sarah this late. We’ll be right there just two doors down and you can go over to Sybil’s house first thing in the morning.”

  She nodded and sniffled. Then she remembered the paper. “Was that a note that Sonia found?”

  Stan just nodded.

  “Well, what did it say?”

  They looked at each other over Alison’s head. She didn’t like this one little bit. They were ignoring her. They were looking at each other but neither one would look at her or answer her.

  “What?”

  Stan looked back at her and paused again before saying, “It said that you are next.”

  Alison had never fainted or passed out in her entire life, but when she opened her eyes again, Stan was holding her head in his lap, Sonia was gently slapping her cheek, and Brutus was trying to lick the other side of her face.

  She heard Stan talking as if he were at the other end of a tunnel. “Do you think we ought to take her to the hospital and get her checked out?”

  She wasn’t sick. She didn’t want to go to the hospital and have them poke her all over and ask her if that hurt.

  “No.” The sound of her own voice surprised her. It didn’t sound like her voice. “I’m not going to the hospital. I’m not sick.”

  After she convinced them she wasn’t going to faint again, Stan found some boards in the garage and boarded up the front door while Sonia took Alison into her bedroom to pack her bags.

  Then Stan took Alison home with him. She protested all the way there but as usual, he didn’t pay a bit of attention to her.

  Later, when she was in bed in a spare bedroom, she just stared at the ceiling for what seemed like hours before she fell into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Before going to bed the previous night, Stan had tried to figure out a way to keep Alison at his house that morning or at least be able to keep her from going to Sybil’s without him. Short of locking her bedroom door, he couldn’t think of anything other than setting his alarm for six, hoping that would get him up before her.

  As it turned out, they both awakened at a little before six. Brutus was barking at the garbage truck as it emptied Stan’s garbage can.

  Stan leaped out of bed, slipped into jeans and a t-shirt and was in the kitchen pouring water into the coffeemaker when Alison came into the room stretching and yawning.

  Brutus was right on her heels. She went to the back door and let him out into the fenced backyard.

  Stan tried to smile at her as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. “Good morning sunshine.”

  He went to the refrigerator and began pulling out eggs and ham.

  Alison plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Don’t worry about breakfast for me. I’ll just grab my things when Brutus comes back in and go on over to Sybil’s. You know she’s been up for over an hour by now.”

  She seemed to think for a moment. “You cook?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been living alone for twelve years now. It was a matter of survival, either learn to cook or starve since I couldn’t afford to eat out all the time.”

  That got a little bit of a smile out of her.

  Stan placed the eggs and ham down on the counter next to the range and walked over to stand in front of Alison.

  “Don’t go yet. I think we need to talk some first, and I know I’ll be able to think better on a full stomach.”

  She waved her hand in between them. “What do we need to talk about? I can’t think of anything that we didn’t already talk about last night.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry Alison, but I don’t agree. We have lots to talk about. First, what and how much are we going to tell Sybil and Sarah about all that has been happening to you?”

  Brutus barked so Stan let him in then turned back to the coffeemaker. Pouring two cups of coffee, he walked back to the table and sat one on the table in front of her.

  She wrapped her hands around the cup as if they were cold and said, “That’s not a problem. I’ve already told Sybil everything that’s happened so far, at least up until last night. If I tell her about that, what will it hurt?”

  Stan groaned. “Alison, someone broke into your house last night and you shot a gun at him. Don’t you think that’s a little bit more that the other things that have happened? Do you want to just dump all that on Sybil?”

  When Alison didn’t answer, Stan smiled fondly. “Alison, you know that I love Sybil as much or more than if she was my own aunt. We both know how she worries about all three of us, especially you. I don’t want to see her get any more upset than we can help.”

  She started to argue with him then thought about it for a moment. “I guess you’re right.” She blew out a breath and took a sip of coffee. “So what do we tell her?”

  Over breakfast and the rest of the pot of coffee, they decided to tell Sybil and Sarah that someone tried to break into Alison’s house without telling her that the guy was actually coming in and that Alison shot at him. They thought that although the watered down version would still upset Sybil, it wouldn’t get her as upset as all the rest would. They knew that Sybil wasn’t comfortable around guns having had her husband killed by one. That part would make her worry too much, for sure.

  They walked two houses down the street to Sybil’s house and knocked on the front door. When Sybil opened the door, she looked at each of them then down at Brutus and Alison’s bags. Tears came to her eyes as she said, “What happened now?”

  Alison tried to walk past Sybil but was pulled into an embrace first. Stan and Brutus moved past the two women and encountered Sarah on the other side of the living room.

  Every time Stan saw Sarah Thompson Newcomb, he was amazed all over again, at how much Alison looked like her. Why couldn’t Alison see that and accept the fact that Sarah was her mother?

  Sarah gave Stan an uneasy smile and said good morning to him. Stan returned her greeting and dropped the three suitcases of Alison’s that he’d been rolling and carrying. He could tell that Sarah wanted to join Sybil and Alison but was afraid to do so.

  Sybil pulled Alison to a sofa and sat down with her. “Okay you two. Tell us what happened now.” She looked at Sarah and motioned for her to take the spot on the other side of Alison. As Sarah complied, Sybil said, “And I don’t even think about leaving out any details. If I think you are, I’ll call my old friend Darrel . . . Chief Darrel Winters.”

  Stan knew from experience that the chief would tell Sybil almost anything she asked. After all, Sybil’s husband Lonny and the chief had been rookies together. The chief had always tried to help his old friend’s widow whenever he could.

  He looked at Alison and said, “Well, do you want to tell her or should I?”

  Alison started in and told the other two women everything that had happened yesterday from her encounter with Blaine all the way through the break in and her shooting at the guy.

  When Alison finished, she leaned back on the sofa. Stan watched the two older women throughout the whole retelling and was concerned for Sarah. She was so pale that he thought she might faint. He’d heard that she did that a few times last year when her husband had been killed and then when she found out that he had taken advantage of her amnesia from a car wreck to keep her away from her family.

  Sarah noticed him watching her intently and tried to give him a smile. “I’ll be okay, Stan. I promise not to faint.” She turned to Sybil. “Are you okay, Sybil?”

  Sybil remained quiet for another moment then she slapped her knee. “You all know how I feel about guns, but right now I’m about ready to take one and go after this maniac myself.”

  Shortly afterward, Stan felt that the three women were gaining enough support from each other that
they no longer needed him there. Besides he had a bad guy to catch, which he’d better get busy doing before all three women turned on him.

  * * *

  After Stan left, Alison took her things into Grant’s old room, since Sarah was staying in her old room. She just sat the cases on the floor at the foot of the bed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to put anything away. After all, she hopped she wouldn’t be there long.

  She turned and saw Sarah standing in the doorway. She did not want to deal with that woman right now. She started to walk past her, but Sarah reached out and touched Alison lightly on the arm.

  “I know this is your room. I can move my things into Grant’s room.” She tried to smile. “After all, my house will be ready to move into next week.”

  Alison didn’t want to acknowledge the offer, but something in Sarah’s eyes kept her from snubbing the woman again.

  Alison turned to face her and said, “That’s okay, I don’t plan to be here very long either.”

  Sarah’s eyes took on a faraway look. The raw emotion was there, all over her face. Alison didn’t want or need to deal with someone else’s emotions right then. Her own emotions were going all over the place without taking on someone else’s too. She couldn’t help the sharp tone to her voice. “What do you want from me?”

  “Won’t you let me love you again, Alison . . . please?”

  Alison bit back the bitter retort that leaped to mind. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly with a sigh. “Someone out there has destroyed my peaceful life and is planning to hurt me. I can’t think about anything else right now.”

  With that, Alison moved past Sarah without any more comment from either.

  When Alison stepped out into the hallway though, she saw Sybil standing close enough to have heard the whole conversation. When she saw the sad look on Sybil’s face she said, “What?”

  Sybil frowned and said, “Nothing, dear.”

  “I need to take a shower and get to work.”

  Thirty minutes later, Alison could hear the other two women talking quietly in the living room as she finished getting ready in Grant’s old room. That was when she realized that she didn’t have her car. It was still at her house.

  When she walked into the living room, she said, “Sybil could you drive me over to my house so I can get my car?”

  Alison had a feeling that the other two women had been plotting against her when Sybil smiled and said, “I can’t dear, my allergies are bothering me this morning, and I have such a headache, but Sarah can take you.”

  Alison had no choice but to accept the situation. No matter what she suspected, she couldn’t call her aunt a liar, could she?

  Alison had done some thinking in the shower, so as soon as she got into Sarah’s car with her, she said, “I don’t know what to do. You don’t seem like my mother. I don’t remember my mother. She left when I was seven years old and was supposed to have died. Sybil has been my mother ever since.”

  Sarah pulled the big car over to the curb and turned to Alison. “I didn’t drive much for the last seven years before I came here. Leo always drove me anywhere I went. So I’m not comfortable driving especially while having an important conversation.”

  Alison didn’t say anything. She continued staring straight ahead through the windshield at a small child riding a tricycle with his mother close by his side.

  “Alison, can you try to look at things from my point of view for just a minute?”

  When Alison remained silent, Sarah continued, “Almost twenty-one years ago, I woke up in a military hospital in Germany not knowing who I was. I didn’t even know who the man sitting in a wheelchair next to my bed was either. He said his name was Harry and that he was my husband.

  “The doctors said that the injuries to my brain were so severe that I would probably never remember anything from before the wreck, and I haven’t. You can’t imagine how much I’ve wished and prayed that I could.

  “Harry told me that my name was Jane and that I had been an orphan who had grown up in foster homes in Phoenix. He also told me that I’d had several miscarriages and even one stillborn baby in my previous marriage.”

  She snickered. “That explained things for my gynecologist later when she could tell that I’d once had a baby.

  “Then Harry was killed in Afghanistan, and I came here. That was when I found out that all of the things he’d told me were lies. I was crushed to find out that I had a daughter and a son that I’d missed out on being with for all those years.”

  When Alison still didn’t say anything, Sarah put the car into gear and drove off. Alison could see tears running down her cheeks. That hit her harder than any of Sarah’s words ever could have.

  Just as Sarah pulled into Alison’s driveway, she turned to Sarah and said, “Thanks for the ride.”

  She stepped out of the car, but something forced her to lean back into the car and say, “I’ll try.”

  With that, she shut the door and started toward the house. The front door was still boarded up so she headed around to the back. All she wanted to do was get into the garage, get her car, and drive to work. But just as she was rounding the corner of the house, she looked back at the woman in the big car. She could see Sarah slumped over the steering wheel. She started to go back to see if Sarah was okay, when the other woman leaned back, wiped her face with tissue, and backed out of the driveway.

  Alison could just hear Sybil saying that it didn’t hurt her a bit to be nice to Sarah. Should she start thinking of her as her mother? Could she start thinking of Sarah Newcomb as her mother?

  Well, she couldn’t think about that anymore right now. She needed to get her car and go to work.

  When she reached the back door, it was standing open. She looked into the kitchen and cried out at the destruction she saw there. She backed up to a concrete bench, which was one of four surrounding a fountain.

  Sitting on the bench, she called Stan. As soon as she told him what she’d seen so far, he told her to get away from the house and go to a neighbor’s house and he’d be there as quick as he could.

  She walked slowly back around to the front of the house. As she turned the corner of the house, she saw Stephanie Turner across the street with her five-year-old son. He had a backpack and it looked like they were waiting for his bus.

  She walked across the street, having to wait while the bus stopped first.

  * * *

  Stan was running toward Sonia’s office as he talked to Alison. He stopped in front of her desk just as he hung up.

  “Someone trashed Alison’s house and she’s there right now, by herself.”

  Sonia jumped up and followed Stan out of the office. “I thought she was staying at your aunt’s house.”

  Stan kept running and yelled over his shoulder. “She was, but she went over there to get her car.”

  Neither spoke on the way to Alison’s house. But Stan’s mind was imagining the worst.

  When Sonia pulled into Alison’s driveway, Stan could see Alison sitting on the front porch of the house across the street with another woman. As soon as she saw them, she began walking toward them.

  Stan jumped out of the car and held up his hands toward Alison. “No, Alison, stay over there until we can check the house out.”

  Stan didn’t have time to be surprised that Alison did what he told her to do. All he could think was that she must be shook up . . . again.

  Out of habit and training, Sonia went around one side of the house and Stan went around the other side. They met at the back door.

  Sonia nudged a patio chair over with her foot to prop the damaged door back against the wall, then looked around the patio. “It doesn’t look like they damaged anything back here.”

  When they stepped into the house with their guns drawn, she said, “They waited until they got in here. This place is a mess.”

  Once they had made a thorough search of each room of the house and ended up in the garage, they stood there looking at Alison’s new Mustang
, which looked as if it was ready for the junkyard.

  Stan shook his head. “We are dealing with one angry dude.”

  “Or sick.” Sonia groaned then tapped Stan on the shoulder. “I just had a horrible thought. When Stan turned to her with a puzzled look on his face, she said, “What if we’re not dealing with one angry or crazy guy? What if we’re dealing with two of them . . . or even all three?”

  Stan had to sit down and he couldn’t sit anywhere in the house since it was a crime scene, again. So, he went out onto the patio with Sonia following.

  Once they were both sitting, she continued her train of thought. “Let’s look at this rationally Stan.”

  He laughed. “Sonia, you and I both know that you can’t apply rational thought to an irrational person.”

  She shook him off and continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. “At least two of these guys have shown irrational behavior as you call it. The third guy, the ex-boyfriend, sounded a little weird, but we haven’t heard anything from him except that one encounter last Sunday at Alison’s open house.”

  They both thought about all she had just said for a couple of minutes. Stan was about to comment when they both looked up toward movement at the corner of the house. There stood Alison as pale as he had ever seen her.

  He jumped up off the bench and led Alison back over to sit down on it. Sonia jumped up and went into the kitchen. She came back out with a plastic glass filled with water.

  Alison took a drink and leaned her head back against Stan’s shoulder. She cleared her throat. “What about my car?”

  She was looking so hopefully at him, that all Stan could do was shake his head. She burst into tears.

  This time, Sonia drew Alison into her arms and comforted her. Stan was left sitting there wondering when all this was going to end. He’d seen Alison cry more in this last week than he had in the twenty years he’d known her. His gut was clenching so tight that he thought he might be sick.