House of the Golden Butterfly

by B. Groves

  No matter what she found and how much the truth hurt, she was determined to find David and give him the peace he desperately sought.

  Claire opened the door to the wooden shed and found so many tools that she thought could start her own hardware store with them.

  She was hit with the smell of grass, dirt, and fertilizer when she walked into the shed and turned on the light.

  She was met with a wheelbarrow, a worktable, a garden hose, and gardening tools all carefully hanging along the wall.

  Without exploring the shed further, anger overcame Claire and grabbed the shovel from the hook on the wall.

  Claire spotted a pickax and grabbed that too.

  Her emotions turned from grief to betrayal as she walked back outside and wandered around the yard looking for any signs of where David might be buried.

  All these years Rose and the grandparents who raised her kept this secret. They never lifted a finger to make sure David was brought the justice he deserved.

  Why? It was such a simple question, but who knew what the real answer was.

  Claire found some potential places to dig.

  Claire stopped by the forest when she found some uneven ground. She knew the ground was cold, but since the weather was staying steadily in the upper 50s to the 60s, it may not have been hard to dig.

  She pressed her foot against it and found it to be soft.

  She dropped the pickax and started shoveling.

  The ground was softer than she expected and was making good progress as a few inches turned into few feet quickly.

  She dug until her back hurt, but not caring about how sore her muscles would be in the morning.

  She made a promise, and she would put her brother to rest once and for all. She wouldn’t rest until she searched for more clues to find his killer.

  Even if the killer turned out to be Rose.

  Claire had forgotten the time and jumped when she heard the male voice behind her.

  She turned to see Mac standing about 10 feet from her with a confused look on his face.

  She didn’t know what to say or do. She tried pushing the shovel away from her as had it turned into a python underneath her fingertips.

  What did she say? What did she tell him?

  “Claire, why are you digging?”

  Claire dropped the shovel onto the ground. Her eyes welled with tears and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t hold them in anymore.

  She didn’t care if she had met Mac recently. She didn’t care how he would judge her or how he would react.

  All those secrets and lies from her own family were enough to send her spiraling into the depths of despair.

  She covered her hands with her face and burst into sobs.

  17.

  W hen Mac walked through Kinsey House he wasn’t sure how he’d react to coming back here after the time he found Rose.

  The memories of all the officers, the crime scene investigators, the detectives, and the coroner going in and out were rushing back to him like a tidal wave.

  He averted his eyes from the living room where he found Rose.

  In all his experience as a cop, it was the death of a human that always stayed with him.

  But, he had a distraction that would keep his mind occupied until he left the house.

  An upset and embarrassed Claire Westcott.

  She even told him if he wanted to leave it was okay and she understood.

  He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to know why she burst into tears. He wanted to know everything about this woman and what made her cry.

  They sat down at the table, and Mac glanced at the clock. If he had to stay longer he could get around it or lie to dispatch. He wasn’t above breaking a rule or two on occasion.

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said wiping her eyes and trying to smile.

  “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mac said, reassuring her.

  Claire scoffed. “You don’t have to be this nice.”

  Mac chuckled. “Nice? Nah. I’m here to berate you and tell you that you’re wrong and don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Claire scoffed again and blew her nose with a tissue. “Funny.”

  Claire shook her head and looked away. “I lost track of the time.” She glanced at her phone and winced. “I missed your call.”

  “And my text,” Mac added.

  He only admitted to himself that he panicked when Claire hadn’t answered her phone.

  He thought he would have a Rose situation all over again and not just that, he liked Claire and wanted them to continue doing whatever it was they were doing.

  “Talk to me,” Mac urged.

  “I’m sure you’re hungry, let’s eat first,” Claire suggested, obviously trying to avoid talking about her breakdown.

  “You can talk and eat at the same time,” Mac said with a grin.

  She shrugged. “I know.”

  Claire grabbed plates from the cabinets while Mac checked out the kitchen. He remembered thinking he would kill for this kind of kitchen since he liked to cook.

  Hell, any chef would kill for this kind of kitchen.

  He remembered when he first laid eyes on it and wondered why Rose would go to great lengths to remodel it like this at her advanced age.

  He realized the real reason for the upgrades. Rose had to have known that Claire would take the house upon the event of her death.

  “I have soda, milk, water, and orange juice,” Claire said from the refrigerator.

  Mac looked down at his grilled chicken salad. He should go healthy and take the water, but instead, he said soda was fine.

  “Doesn’t everyone say Coke down here?” Claire asked with a grin as she put ice in the glasses.

  “Yes, ma’am. We southerners have limited vocabulary,” Mac said in his best redneck imitation.

  Claire sat down and laughed. “It was out of curiosity.”

  “This town has grown so much with so many people from different worlds, that I don’t even know anymore,” Mac explained.

  Once Claire settled into her chair, they ate and talked about how Mac’s day. He knew Claire wanted to avoid turning the conversation into why she was digging in the yard.

  It was so strange. She seemed a down to earth type of person from their past conversations that it surprised Mac to see her react like that when he found her outside.

  Well… they didn’t really know each other, so he could have been wrong about her personality.

  Claire put down her fork and wiped her mouth while Mac waited patiently for her to talk.

  “Do you want to talk about it? I won’t push you if you don’t,” Mac said.

  Claire cocked her head in thought and said, “Mac, I don’t think my brother ever drowned in that river.”

  Mac froze from Claire’s words. He read the case of David Westcott, all of Kevin’s notes, and recalled his conversation with Joe.

  He needed to tread carefully on this one. If there was any lingering doubt that boy did not drown then the county would have to re-open the case.

  “Claire, if you remember anything… the chief said if any other evidence came to light…” Mac stopped. He was giving away too much already. “Is there something you saw that day? Is this the reason why you’re digging the ground outside?”

  “I’m not crazy, Mac,” Claire said.

  “I never said you were,” he answered.

  “I have no memories to prove otherwise, but…” Claire’s words hung in the air like fog on a dreary day.

  “But, what?”

  Claire looked everywhere but Mac.

  “I just know,” she whispered. “I know that as a cop, you need hard evidence, but he… I know he wouldn’t have wandered off like that.”

  “Claire, kids do wander off,” Mac explained. “We have a county fair every year, and every year it’s the same thing, a parent turns away for a second.” Mac snapped his fingers in emphasis. “The kid is gone.” Mac focused on Claire again. “Granted t
here hasn’t been a kid we lost permanently, but it happens.”

  Claire took a quiet sip of her soda. “Yes, it does. I know this. But, I walked to the river this morning and that path is hard to maneuver, even for an adult. The path is barely visible from the yard.”

  Mac’s gaze turned towards the windows. He couldn’t see the path from where he sat, but he understood what she meant.

  “We have the Great Smoky Mountain National Park near here. I mean, kids get lost in there too, and it’s like the forest in your yard,” Mac said.

  Mac could tell Claire was getting frustrated from his logic, because she may have been having these internal arguments too.

  She sighed and said, “I’m wondering why my grandmother sent me away and why my brother died the way he did.”

  “Maybe you were a painful reminder, or she felt you would be better off with your paternal grandparents because she couldn’t handle her grief,” Mac suggested.

  “Could be,” Claire said. “I’m figuring that out.”

  Mac shot Claire a sad smile. “You know, I can relate in a similar way.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow waiting for Mac to continue.

  “You know how I told you I was married,” Mac began. He tried his best to tell his story while suppressing his emotions. Over the years, it becomes easier to tell it, but that didn’t mean the emotions didn’t practically explode within him when talking about his son.

  “You did.”

  Mac took a deep breath and placed his plastic fork on the table.

  He didn’t want to look Claire in the eyes anymore as he thought about the son he lost.

  “I met Julie when we were very young. We were friends from the start and you know what that turned into,” Mac started.

  Claire nodded, her eyes softening as she listened.

  “Even in today’s world, you’re expected to stay together forever down here in the south,” Mac explained. “And, I thought that would be us. We were inseparable from the time we were eight years old. We grew up together, and when we went off to school we went through a phase where…” Mac took a sip of his soda. “Where we agreed to date other people.”

  “That makes sense because it’s okay to test the waters and decide if you wanted to stay together,” Claire commented.

  “Exactly, but I knew I would be with Julie forever. At least, that’s what I was thinking at the time,” Mac said. “We did get back together and even though we were poor right out of the gates from school, we got married anyway.”

  Mac let his gaze wander while he was immersed in memories. “We decided to wait to have children as she established her career in human resources, and I interned in the department before I was hired permanently. I knew we needed to be more financially stable anyway.”

  “Smart,” Claire said with a smile.

  “Yeah. After we had been established, Julie got pregnant,” Mac said.

  This was always the toughest part of the story. Mac stared off into space trying to put the words together.

  “We were the happiest couple alive. We decorated the nursery. We had parties, and Julie got her baby shower. It was an amazing time,” Mac said. “I was scared shitless but excited too.”

  Claire nodded at his comment. “That’s to be expected.”

  “That kid was spoiled rotten before he even came out,” Mac said with a smile. “Everyone was doting on Julie because in her family, she was the oldest and this would be her parent’s first grandchild.”

  “I think I know where this is going,” Claire said.

  “We found out it was a boy, we picked out a name and wanted to call him Jacob William,” Mac said.

  Claire’s expression changed to sympathy.

  “What happened?” She asked.

  “I was at work one night when Julie called to tell me she was going to the ER. She was thirty-eight weeks when she didn’t feel the baby kicking anymore. He’d been very active the week before,” Mac explained. “She said he stopped moving, and she was worried. I didn’t think much of it, but if she felt something was wrong then it probably was.”

  “It was?”

  “She went through all kinds of tests and we found out there was no activity. No heartbeat. No signs of life. He was gone,” Mac said trying to swallow the bile in his throat.

  “Oh, Mac,” Claire whispered.

  Mac sat back and ran a hand through his hair. “We still don’t know the direct cause of his death. The doctors gave us all kinds of possibilities, but all I know is they induced labor and I held my son for the first and last time.”

  Claire shook her head and said, “Mac, I’m so sorry. How long ago did this happen?”

  “It’ll be four years on Christmas Eve,” Mac said with a bitter smile. “I hate this time of year. That’s why I work so many hours around the holidays.”

  Claire gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  “I took Christmas off, so we could celebrate,” Mac said.

  “Is this what caused your divorce?” Claire asked.

  “It was my fault, Claire,” Mac said.

  Claire’s brow furrowed. “How can that possibly be your fault?”

  “The first few weeks was a whirlwind of family visitations, the funeral, and I don’t remember much of it,” Mac said. “Meanwhile, I was letting my grief consume me, and in turn, I was angry. I was angry that I would never experience what any father would want to do with his son… you know… things like playing baseball in the yard, coaching little league, teaching him to ride a bike. I would never get to see my son graduate high school.”

  “That makes sense,” Claire said. “You’re going through the stages of grief.”

  “Well, there was only one way I knew how to handle it, and that was to work myself to death,” Mac explained.

  “You worked long hours?”

  “Not only that, but I blamed my wife for what happened,” Mac said.

  He waited while Claire absorbed the news. She blinked a few times but kept quiet.

  “Not outwardly, but I pushed her away. I kept her at arm’s length after that night. In my mind, she did something wrong. I needed something or someone to blame and she was it.”

  Claire shook her head and looked down at the table.

  “It was stupid, and I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than what I did to her. Well, because of my own stupidity I chased her away because I wasn’t there when she needed me the most,” Mac said.

  “Let me guess,” Claire said. “She ran into the arms of another man who gave her the attention she needed.”

  Claire’s cold words cut like a knife through Mac’s gut, but it was true and she hit the nail on the head.

  “My best friend, if you want to know,” Mac answered. “I was an asshole. I ignored my wife and only felt sorry for myself. I blamed her for no reason and threw myself into my job, so I wouldn’t have to look at her. Mike came out of the shadows and took her away. I knew it’d be him. He always waited for her.”

  Claire tapped her lips in thought. “Sounds like one of my books,” she murmured.

  Mac didn’t know if he revealed too much too soon and she really would think he was an asshole and kick him out.

  He didn’t want that.

  He waited patiently for her to answer, but it was a few minutes before she spoke up.

  “Are they still together?” She asked.

  “Yes. I went to their wedding. It wasn’t easy, and Mike gives me those smug kinds of looks every time I see them, but I went. They have a daughter too. A healthy little girl, but Julie is good about keeping Jacob’s memory alive,” Mac said.

  “You were an asshole,” Claire said in an even tone. “I don’t blame her. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You were selfish and a jackass—”

  Mac went to speak in his own defense, but Claire put a hand up to interrupt him.

  “But, from what I see you loved your son, you just handled it wrong and I think you’ve paid the price a t
housand times over for your behavior,” Claire said with a soft smile.

  “I would have died for that kid,” Mac said, struggling not to choke up.

  He was relieved at how understanding Claire was.

  Mac’s memories of holding his son for such a short time were precious to him and one that he hoped he never lost. He understood Claire’s situation.

  “We meet every year before Christmas since Julie and Mike live in Charlotte now, and sit at Jacob’s grave for a while,” Mac said.

  Mac leaned forward and said, “I think you said I’m not a total dickhead.” When Claire laughed, he continued. “That’s why I can relate. I think we both have been through tragedies.”

  Claire looked down and then to him. “It’s true. I wish I had better memories of my brother and I wish I had even one memory of my parents.”

  Mac put his hand on the table and Claire was hesitant at first and then placed hers over his.

  Mac thought he felt his cold, dead heart come to life for the first time in ages.

  “Mac, I don’t think you’re a dickhead,” Claire said with a grin. “As far as my family is concerned, there are so many lies and secrets that I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t.”

  Mac removed his hand. It was his turn to place it over Claire’s.

  “Claire, I looked over your brother’s case.” He ignored her surprised expression. “I know you believe otherwise, but all evidence points to David drowning.”

  Mac hated keeping Kevin’s notes from her, but he didn’t want to give her any fresh hope when there wasn’t any.

  “Your grandmother passed a polygraph with flying colors and never backed away from her original story. They had search and rescue dogs. The detective had the same doubts and brought in cadaver dogs. They didn’t find anything,” Mac explained. “Usually, a drowning victim will turn up around the point of impact, but since the river was rushing that season, it was no surprise he was swept away. They had police divers and even dredged part of the river around a levee looking for him. His shoe was found where it forks off into another basin. Many experts studied the case, surprised he never recovered.”

  Claire’s looks morphed into disappointment, but she nodded in understanding.

  “Then why can’t I remember anything from that day?” She put a hand up to stop him. “I know we can block out traumatic memories…”