She didn’t understand. “What about her?”
“She’s…alive.”
CHAPTER 30
Addison tasted the salty wetness of her tears as they formed pools on her upper lip. It had been a long time since she’d had a good, hard cry. Even at her mother’s funeral, she’d remained silent, keeping it all in, holding it together for her father. Now she let the tears flow. Not just for the news he’d given her, but for the loss of her mother too. For once in her life, she released it, letting it all go. Her father waited, his arm wrapped around her, his shoulder serving as a conduit for her to cry on.
Once she gathered herself together, she stood up, pacing the floor while shouting, “How?! How could you and Mom have lied to me for all these years?”
“We were trying to protect you.”
She slammed a hand down on her jeans. “From what, Dad?! Maybe I didn’t need protecting.”
“If you knew the reasons—”
“Why you lied to me?” she asked. “Will hearing them make it right?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m trying to undo what’s already been done in the best way I know how. Maybe you don’t think parents are supposed to make mistakes, like we have some kind of child-raising handbook, and we can just whip it out, flip to a chapter, and see what we are supposed to do. We don’t. It’s trial and error. All of it is.”
Her muscles tensed and her shoulder throbbed, the pain and stress flowing to one specific spot all at once. Her father had come clean. The least she could do is hear him out. She took a cleansing breath and sat back down. “I’m glad you told me. But I have questions, and I need answers.”
He nodded, remaining silent.
“What made you decide to tell me?”
“A week ago I received a letter from Marjorie in the mail. Somehow she’d found out your mother had died. She begged me to let her see you, and knowing you were an adult now, she said if I didn’t, she’d find you herself.”
“So…you told me because you had to?”
“When I came here and we talked about the experiences you’d had as a child, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. I mulled it over on the plane ride home, all the while knowing if your mother was alive, she would never approve of me telling you. The last thing I wanted was to dishonor her memory by going against her wishes.”
Addison crossed one leg over the other. “But you did it anyway.”
“When I arrived home, I received another letter from your grandmother.”
“What did it say?”
“That’s what was strange. It was a piece of paper, folded several times, and when I opened it, there was only one sentence written in the middle of the page.”
He reached into the pocket, pulled out a white piece of paper, and passed it to her. She turned it over in her hands before opening it. On the inside, written in all caps in red pen, it said: KEEP ADDISON AWAY FROM GRAYSON MANOR.
“She knows where you are, Addy. She knows you’re here.”
CHAPTER 31
Addison felt a shock stream through her system when she read the words scrawled on the paper. It was like someone had attached jumper cables to her body and pressed hard on the gas. She’d come to accept the fact that both of her grandparents knew the fate of Roxanne Rafferty and, for whatever reason, had chosen to cover it up. She’d tried searching for her grandfather and had almost given up. A man missing for that many years was probably an expert on how to stay missing.
She stared at her father. He stared back. “So you see,” he said, palms up, “I had to tell you.”
“Why would her knowing I’m here change your mind? Who cares what she says? By now she’s a tired, ailing old woman.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I may not have seen her much, but one thing I remember—she was a force no one wanted to reckon with.” He picked an envelope out of his pocket, unfolded it, and turned it around so the front of it faced her. “You see the return address? It says New York City.”
“She’s…here?”
“Well, not quite, but she’s close enough.”
“How long has she been here? What’s she doing here? I don’t understand.”
His face looked grim. “Neither do I. Maybe she moved back to the area years ago—who knows. All I do know is—it’s too close for comfort.”
“Why didn’t Mom want Marjorie to be in my life? Why keep her from me? What did she do that was so terrible?”
He held a hand out in front of him. “Slow down. I know you have a lot of questions. One at a time.” He took a breath. “I’ll start with the last. As you know, your mother was bounced around from place to place for years as a child. The older she got, the more she resented your grandmother for it. She despised her life after your grandfather left. I suppose even though he abandoned them, she blamed her mother for it. Who knows why? Your mother held that man up on a pedestal for reasons I never fully understood.”
Addison did. The bond she shared with her own father was strong enough to withstand anything—even his most recent confession.
“As to your other question,” he said, “about why your mother kept Marjorie from you, it would be best if you let Marjorie explain.”
Addison stared at her father—bewildered. “You say that like I’ll be seeing her.”
He looked away.
“Dad—what did you do?”
“The only thing I could do…I called her. I didn’t want her getting to you before I did.”
“What did you say?”
“I pleaded with her to let me talk to you first. I made a deal.”
“In exchange for…?”
“Allowing her to meet you. You won’t be alone. I’ll be there.”
Every possible emotion seemed to rush through her at once. “What if I don’t want to see her?”
“You must. Now that your mother is gone, there are things about you that no one can explain but her. I know you’re still looking for answers about the visions you had as a child. Marjorie can give them to you.”
CHAPTER 32
When Luke walked through the front door to see if Addison needed anything, he found her lying flat on the couch, covered with a blanket, staring at the ceiling. “Where’s your father?”
She propped herself up on one elbow and turned. “I put him in the bedroom next to mine upstairs.”
“Do you think that’s…safe? What if he gets a visit from a not-so-friendly ghost? How are you going to explain?”
She shook her head. “I honestly don’t know. He’s determined to stay here until after I’ve seen my grandmother.”
“Wait a minute, isn’t she—”
“Dead?” Addison finished for him. “Apparently not.”
She relayed the conversation she had with her father earlier.
“And the weird gets weirder,” he said when she’d finished. “You nervous to meet her?”
She sat up. “I don’t know what I am right now.”
He sat down beside her. “What happened out there in the woods? Why weren’t you with your bike when I found you?”
“I have no idea. I keep thinking about it. I remember leaving the house. I could hear an owl somewhere nearby. I was following the trail, even though I had no idea where it would lead. Then I woke up with bruises, scratches, and a broken arm. I tried to stand up. I couldn’t.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t think about it.”
“What are you saying?”
“In my experience, when you let go of something, that’s when it comes back to you. The harder you try to force yourself to remember, the bigger the resistance.”
“I’ll try that,” she said. “I need to get cleaned up anyway.”
“Why?”
“I imagine I look—”
“Beautiful,” he said. “You look beautiful.”
Her cell phone rang, breaking the awkward silence between them.
“Is this Addison Lockhart?” said a female voice on the other end.
The woman on the other
end of the line verified herself as Detective Ross.
“Are you calling about the dress?” Addison asked. “I can bring it in tomorrow if that’s okay.”
“Dress?”
“Yes. I’d like to stay while it’s tested. I’d rather not come home without it.” Addison knew it was a stretch. She didn’t know if the results would take hours or days, and if blood was found on the dress, there was little chance she’d get it back—ever. That meant if she was going to touch it again, it had to be now. But how, with her father next door? There was no guarantee what might happen. It was a risk, but at this point, it was one she was willing to take.
“What dress?” the detective asked, again.
“I’m sorry—you’re calling about something else?”
“I heard you were trying to get in touch with the men who worked the Roxanne Rafferty case.”
“I don’t understand? He was already here. He came yesterday.”
“Who?” Detective Ross asked.
“Detective Houston.”
Another pause. “Ma’am, Detective Houston died several years ago.”
It wasn’t possible.
“Are you sure you have the names right?”
Addison heard a shuffling sound in the background. “I’ve got the paperwork here. Says Detective Houston is dead and Dobbs is in a wheelchair at Mortimer Retirement Home.”
“The man who came here walked around my house and talked to me about what he remembered when he worked the case.”
“Ma’am, listen to me carefully. Dobbs is the only one still alive, and he has Alzheimer’s. So, it wasn’t him. Whoever came to your house isn’t who he says he is. I’d like you to come in and fill out a police report.”
The phone slipped from Addison’s hands in front of a confused Luke, who watched it fall to the floor, the screen shattering.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.
Addison turned and raced up the stairs, not stopping until she reached her room. She reached for the box beneath her bed, relieved when she found it. Luke followed close behind. “Addison, what’s going on?”
She lifted the lid. The dress was gone.
CHAPTER 33
Addison and Luke slipped out of the house carefully and quietly so they wouldn’t wake her father. He had a nightly ritual of being to bed by eight and getting up before the sun rose, around four or five. She placed a quick return call to the police station using Luke’s phone, letting Detective Ross know she’d accidentally dropped her phone and that everything was all right—though she felt far from it.
“Where are we going again?” Luke asked.
“It’s called Mortimer Retirement Home. I looked it up. It’s right here in Rhinebeck.”
Luke punched the address into the GPS. “Isn’t it a bit late to be going there?”
“I need to do something—I’m about to lose my mind. I wish I knew who that man really was…he must have stolen the dress.”
“How’d he even manage to get it out of there?” Luke asked.
“I left him alone in my bedroom for about thirty seconds when you arrived,” Addison said. “He was carrying that prehistoric briefcase around. He must have shoved it in there.
“And we stood outside and watched him drive away with it.”
She thought of the car he was in, a gold sedan. It looked like a Lexus, but she couldn’t be sure.
They pulled into the parking lot at the retirement home and parked. “What’s your plan?” he asked.
“For what?”
“You can’t just walk in here and expect to talk to the guy. In some of these places you can’t even visit a person unless you’re on the naughty or nice list.”
She laughed. “What if I’m on neither?”
A plan was hatched for Luke to distract whoever was working at the front desk while Addison found Dobbs’s room. It turned out their last minute plotting wasn’t necessary. No one was manning the station at the front desk or anywhere around there—that is, until Addison rounded the corner. She quickly backpedaled. “Someone’s coming.”
Luke pushed her into the ladies room. “Wait one minute, then come out. Try to act natural,” he said in a loud whisper.
As opposed to what? She hadn’t felt “natural” for years. The seconds ticked by slower than usual, it seemed. After the minute was over, she cracked the door open, peeking out at the woman engaged in a friendly back-and-forth banter with Luke. The woman couldn’t take her eyes off of him, which is exactly what Addison thought she wanted, until the woman laid a playful hand on his arm. Addison couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman’s sparkly green fingernails—they were like little daggers. One touch, then another. Luke played it cool, leaning over the desk and directing the woman’s attention to something on the opposite end of the room. For a brief moment he turned, his eyes enlarged as if to say: What are you waiting for?
Addison slipped out and made it around the corner, resisting the urge to back up and sneak another glance at Green Glitter Lady. She was there for one reason, she reminded herself. Nothing else mattered. Not even her. The corridor wound around in a square shape like a wraparound porch with rooms lining the left side. Addison expected name plates on each door. There was nothing. No way to discern who occupied the various apartments. Now what?
A woman with curly, silver hair that looked like it had been dipped in light purple food coloring opened her door and looked out. Addison hadn’t heard the door open. The woman said, “Psst…” Addison turned.
“Visiting hours ended at seven o’clock,” the woman said.
Addison frowned. “I didn’t know. This is my first time.”
“What are you doing here?” the woman demanded.
“Looking for someone.”
“Who?”
In that moment, Addison realized something. She didn’t know Dobbs’s first name. “My name is Addison Dobbs.”
“Patricia York. What do you want with Hector?”
“He’s my, umm, uncle.”
“You’re looking for Hector?”
“Do you know which apartment is his?”
Patricia bit her upper lip and then scratched her head with her finger. She wouldn’t give the room number up that easily.
“I’ve been told he has Alzheimer’s.”
She offered a slow nod. “It’s moderate. He can’t read or write anymore. Most times when I see him he’s staring at things like he’s trying to remember what they are.”
“Have you been here long?”
“Going on five years now. Hector was here when I arrived. Of course he wasn’t as bad back then. He had some difficulty talking, but he hadn’t been diagnosed yet.” Patricia made a swooping motion with her hand. “Come here a moment, and be quiet about it.”
As if Addison’s goal was to wake every resident on the first floor.
She moved closer.
“Keep coming,” Patricia prompted.
Addison felt like a mouse entranced by a piece of cheese. When she was within two feet of her, Patricia stepped forward. “Hector doesn’t get visitors. Not anymore. And he never said anything to me about having a niece. Not one your age. Who are you really?”
Addison panicked.
“The best thing you can do is tell the truth now,” Patricia said. “I suspect you know that. You have a sweet face, and I truly believe you don’t want to lie to me, but don’t try it again.”
Obviously the retirement home had a neighborhood watch in the form of this sprightly, curious woman. Addison confessed, telling Patricia only what she thought she needed to know. She explained Detective Dobbs had once worked a case involving a missing woman, and Addison had reason to believe after all this time, that the case might be able to be solved. She left out the part about the spirit of Roxanne Rafferty. The woman didn’t seem to remember who Roxanne was, but she knew all about the career of Hector Dobbs, saying she’d spent many hours when they first met listening to his exciting stories. Something in Patricia’s voice led Addison
to believe she had wanted more than just friendship with him at one time, so naturally she’d be protective of Hector. Even now.
After Addison explained her reason for being there, Patricia said something unexpected. “If I tell you where he is, will you come back?”
“When I’ve finished talking to him?” Addison asked. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m already not supposed to be—”
“Another day. You’re good at telling stories. I could use more entertainment in my life.” Without waiting for Addison to respond, she added, “Room 77A, around the corner, third room on your left.” She walked out into the hall and looked left and then right as if she was part of Addison’s covert operation. “What are you waiting for? You better get going.”
Thinking Patricia had intentions on accompanying her, Addison said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in your apartment?”
The woman giggled. “No dear, I’m not a resident. I work here.”
***
Former Detective Hector Dobbs stared out his bedroom window and into the dark blackness of night. He had a few patches of stringy hair left on his nearly bald head, and even though he was seated, Addison could tell he was a lot shorter than she imagined he’d be. A rancid smell permeated the room, compelling her to cup a hand over her nose when she breathed.
She had never been around anyone with Alzheimer’s before and had no idea what to expect. She uttered a barely audible “hello” when she walked in, doing her best not to startle him. He glanced back, gave her a look like he had little to no interest in why she was there, and then gazed back out the window again.
Does he think I’m the help?
If he did, maybe it was a good thing. The last thing she wanted was for him to make enough noise to summon the real help.
She walked over and knelt in front of him so her face was eye level with his. “Hi Mr. Dobbs. I’m new here. Can I get you anything?”
Hector shriveled his face up in such a way that she got the message—he considered her a nuisance. He didn’t want her there. He crossed his arms over his body, wrapping his hands around them like he was trying to protect himself.
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