by B. Groves
That didn’t happen anymore.
He opened Kevin’s notes one more time about David Westcott. He hoped he would catch a little clue that he might have missed before.
He knew other detectives had scoured the case over the years. The feds wanted nothing to do with this case after Kevin presented them with his investigation because they weren’t interested in a little boy drowning in a river.
27.
C laire walked into the house and locked the door behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the Mustang’s engine roar to life.
Claire stood still listening to Mac’s car pull away. The sound of his car faded into the distance and Claire leaned against the door waiting for a sign of her brother’s presence.
Claire walked away from her front door with no signs of her world changing to her brothers or no other visions waiting to take over her mind.
There was plenty of daylight left to dig around the property, and then she would scour more pictures later on in the evening to find her missing aunt.
Clair ascended the stairs and changed into some old jeans and a T-shirt. She made her way to the kitchen to make sure she drank some water before she got to work.
“Dig.”
The child’s voice echoed through the house and bounced off the walls around her. She turned around and walked through the house. The voice told her again to dig, but her brother’s apparition stayed hidden deep in the shadows.
Claire walked back to the kitchen to take another gulp of water. After she did that she placed the bottle inside the refrigerator and was about to close the door when her breath came out in a large puff.
Claire closed her eyes knowing she would be bombarded with more visions. If she was going to find her brother she had to face what he was showing her.
Claire went to turn around but was startled when the refrigerator door slammed shut in front of her. If Claire hadn’t moved when the door swung her way, she might have a broken hand to deal with.
A hand came down hard on her shoulder and forced her to turn around.
Fear came full force as she gazed upon the darkened face of the woman who murdered her brother. This time she could only make out blue eyes through the shadowy mist standing in front of her.
She heard a feminine snicker through the shadowy face and then a pain shot up her leg from the knee area.
“Ouch.” She bent over and rubbed it wondering where the pain came from.
She stood again and heard her aunt whisper that she was nothing more than a “spoiled little bitch” and she deserved it.
Claire was so stunned by the action she couldn’t form the words to counter her aunt.
“What happened, Claire?”
Rose asked her without turning around from the stove.
Claire didn’t know why but an irrational fear coursed through her veins. Her eyes darted to the corner where David had stopped playing with his toys near the breakfast nook and stared at his sister.
Her mind turned to an inner debate that she couldn’t control. She feared tattling on her aunt knowing the abuse would get worse if she did, but every time she tattled on Sue, Rose would do nothing more. She would tell Sue to leave and the children would have some relief for a night. It was usually the next day that Sue would return, and the abuse would continue.
Her eyes left her brother and again met the sinister blue eyes of the shadowy figure watching and waiting for her to answer.
Claire opened her mouth to answer, but the words weren’t the truth. She tried stopping them from leaving her mouth, but it was too late.
“I hit my shin on the door,” she answered. That was a lie.
Claire grasped her throat in shock and wanted to choke. She didn’t recognize her own voice, but it was her voice. Her six-year-old voice.
Rose stopped what she was doing and walked over to inspect Claire’s injury.
“You might bruise, but you’ll be okay.”
Rose smiled up at Claire and Claire wondered if she cried in this memory from the pain.
“Aunt Sue kicked her.”
The small voice came out from the corner. It was loud and clear.
Everyone in the room froze. Rose was still bent over Claire’s shin. Claire’s back stiffened and she became nauseous from the panic swelling inside her belly. She didn’t want David to say a word. She wanted him to shut up about it. She lied to protect them from more abuse, but he was three years old. He didn’t understand the severity of their situation.
Rose stood up, her facial expressions turning to frustration, and her wrinkled mouth turning down in regret.
“Did you kick her?” Rose asked in a stern voice. She never turned her eyes from Claire.
Claire shrank back against the refrigerator hoping it would open and swallow her. Why didn’t David stay quiet?
“She did. I saw her,” David chimed in.
“Mom, I… ”
“Did you kick her?” Rose asked through gritted teeth.
Rose turned her angry gaze to her daughter when Sue stayed quiet. “I asked you a question.”
Claire didn’t have to see the shadow’s face. Her memory of this moment flooded her mind and the first fleeting image of her long-lost aunt came back in full force.
Sue tilted her head to the side and leered at her mother. Her dark hair hung over her face not giving Claire the full vision she needed.
“It will always be them before me, won’t it? Janie’s ghost and her little angels will always come before me.”
“That’s not true. I did what I had to do at the time,” Rose said, her voice shaking from anger.
Rose stood up straight and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.
“You’re so pathetic, Mom.” Sue waved her hand in the air. “You can hide behind your money, but it ain’t changin’ what you did to me. You can’t buy your precious Janie’s life back. You’re stuck with me—just me—whether you like it or not.”
Sue lingered for several seconds. It was hard for Claire to make out her facial expressions since her face wasn’t clear. All she saw was Sue’s head turn and face David for several seconds before she stomped out of the room.
A door slammed and the only noise left was boiling water on the stove.
Rose tried to gather her dignity after Sue left. She bent down and checked Claire’s leg one more time for injuries and asking Claire if it still hurt.
“No,” Claire answered.
Rose lingered in front of her granddaughter, as she struggled to hold back tears.
“Go mind your brother,” she ordered while walking back over to the stove.
Claire thought she heard small sobs coming from Rose. She saw the older woman grab a napkin from a holder on the counter and wipe her eyes. She tossed the napkin in the trash frustrated from her standoff with Sue.
“Are you okay, Mom-mom?” Claire asked.
Rose’s head turned sharply at Claire, but no anger showed on her face.
“Yes, sweetheart. Now, please, go mind your brother while I finish your supper.”
Claire heard the front door slam and the vision was over.
She leaned back against the refrigerator as her world came into focus. She struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.
This wasn’t a vision David showed her, it was her own memory taking on a life of its own.
And, she’d been close, so close to revealing her aunt’s face.
Claire ran a hand over her face trying to get a grip on her fragile emotions. She decided she wouldn’t cry as she swallowed several times. She would take her emotions out on the innocent dirt outside. She would release her fury through the shovel and the pickax.
Her mind opened with other fuzzy memories. Memories she couldn’t quite reach. They were taunting her and staying far enough away to make her question her sanity. Loud voices, yelling and screaming while two innocent children were caught in the middle of a terrible situation between a mother and her angry daughter.
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Claire walked over to the island and grasped the edge of the countertop. The memories continued flooding her mind like a tsunami. Her aunt and her grandmother didn’t get along and it obvious to Claire that Aunt Sue resented her niece and nephew, and that resentment somehow turned into outright hatred that cost David his life.
If the situation was so horrible, why didn’t Rose send them both to Mary and Clay’s while she dealt with her relationship with Aunt Sue? Or why didn’t she throw Sue onto the street to protect them?
She wanted to run outside and scream. For twenty-three years she lived in a blissful state, but her life was a full bag of lies.
She blacked out the earliest part of her life. It was her defense mechanism after David was killed and her family played off that part of her mind. They kept her locked behind that imaginary closed door that showed her the truth of what happened while she lived in this house with her brother.
Self-awareness washed over Claire. She always had the truth inside of her from the moment she left Kinsey House, that gaping hole she had was a message trying to tell her that she needed to come back to Lingate and find her memories.
She thought it was because she lost her parents at such an early age. She thought it was because she lost her brother not long after her parents that opened that big hole in her gut that pestered her for so many years.
She remembered times where she would wake up screaming during the night when she first moved in with Mary and Clay. She could hear their whispers to each other as they tried to soothe her and urge her to go back to sleep.
The dreams faded as time passed, and she went on with her life with her grandparents comforting her whenever she cried for her lost family. Claire couldn’t remember what they were about anymore, but she knew the answer without even trying.
If she hadn’t moved back to Lingate, God only knew if she would have ever remembered anything about the time she lived in Kinsey House.
Claire stood up straight and set her eyes on the clock. The afternoon sun blanketed the kitchen in a warm light telling her she had plenty of time to restart her digging.
She thought she felt David’s presence lingering from the shadowy corners of the house.
Claire walked outside, into the shed and grabbed the shovel and the pickaxe.
She didn’t care how long it took she took, or how much she destroyed the yard, she needed to find her brother.
David told her he was near the basement, so that’s where she would concentrate her efforts.
There were roots and overgrowth on that part of the house that would make it difficult for her but she would not let those things stop her.
Ivy crept up the side of the house, and she made a mental note to clear it out if David pointed her in that direction.
Claire surveyed the side yard. This was the shortest side of the property and only stretched about 70 feet into the forest.
Thick branches above her were mercifully bare, and the sun helped to keep Claire warm while she continued her mission.
She fingered the butterfly brooch inside her pocket and silently asked David to guide her while she tried to find him.
Claire took the pickax and took her first swing into the solid and cold ground.
She did another swing, her body shaking from each contact with the earth beneath her feet.
Dirt and grass flew in every direction with each swing of the ax.
Her destiny was clear. She struck the ground again and again until she had enough soft dirt to dig.
She couldn’t rely on the police. She gathered that from Mac. Yeah, she could approach the police and ask for help, but Claire knew the case had been closed a long time ago and since they found David’s sneaker near the river. That tiny piece of evidence was enough to close the case and issue a death certificate.
Besides, this was personal. This time was for her and her alone.
Claire dug up the dirt, inhaling the fresh scent of earth she threw it to the side with the shovel.
Her jeans and sneakers were now caked with the dirt as she tugged at roots and would use the ax to break up the thicker vegetation.
She pushed back a strand of hair and wiped the light sweat that formed on her brow with her shirt.
She stopped digging long enough to reach down and pull at roots that she was strong enough to move. She would have to dig around the bigger roots.
She didn’t have the original blueprint of the house, so she could only hope she didn’t strike electrical wire or a gas pipe. That would suck if she electrocuted herself or blew herself up.
Claire scoffed but continued digging although it became obvious there was no point in digging further from what she found.
With the network of untouched roots, there was no way David was buried here.
Claire filled in the hole as best as she could and started another one where she felt for softer ground.
Nothing. Hours passed as Claire dug five holes into the ground.
She rubbed her aching shoulders and sat near the basement doors holding the shovel in one hand as she stared at the yard while trying to catch her breath.
She was sore, tired, and confused. She rubbed a dirty hand over her face and before she realized what she’d done some of it went into her mouth causing her to spit and sputter.
She gazed at the sky. It was turning a pink and purple color as the sunset in the west.
She thought about turning on the floodlights and continuing but her aching back and shoulders protested that idea.
She needed water and a break. She would use the sink in the basement instead of traipsing through the house while she had dirt clinging to her clothes and shoes.
Claire couldn’t recall if she tested to see if the water was running or not down there, if not she’d have to drag the dirt through the kitchen.
She didn’t care, though. She wanted to clean off. She would leave her tools in the basement and start up again first thing in the morning.
Claire walked over the basement and opened the splintered doors, cringing as they creaked and groaned from lack of use.
The musty smell replaced the scent of fresh dirt as she descended the wooden stairs with the shovel and pickax.
She had to walk blindly to find the light bulb and when she did, she pulled the string and squinted from the bright light in front of her.
Her mind took a darker turn as she went to set down the pickax and the shovel against the wall. No, she didn’t set them down, she threw them down and in return getting a loud clang started a headache.
The large white utility sink was in the far corner of the basement.
Claire’s mood should have lightened when the water flowed from the faucet, but her mood stayed bleak as the dirt and water swirled down the drain.
She had no towel, so she wiped her wet hands on a cleaner part of her shirt.
Her muscles protesting each movement, Claire sat down on the steps leading up to the kitchen.
She pulled off her sneakers and picked off the dirt caked to the bottom and the sides of each shoe. She then set them aside thinking she would throw them in the washer after she finished her mission.
Sighing, Claire ran a hand through her hair and even found dirt particles in the thick strands. After picking at her hair for a few minutes, she stopped knowing only a shower would solve her dirt problems.
Resting a few more minutes before she had to make her way up two flights of stairs, she grabbed the butterfly brooch from her pocket and gritted her teeth.
“You’re telling me to dig, but I can’t find you,” she said out loud.
She threw the brooch on the ground and placed her head in her hands, trying to keep from having a complete mental breakdown.
“Dig.”
Claire’s head shot up as her brother’s voice echoed in her ears.
Her breath now coming out in frosty puffs.
“No!” She screamed into the silent basement. “I can’t…” Claire could see the world turning into a picture of the pas
t. She didn’t want that right now. Her emotions were too high. She needed more time.
Claire groaned as a gray light illuminated the basement with an unnatural glow.
“Claire,” a voice called to her from the corner.
Claire turned to face her brother, but she turned away. She couldn’t do this right now. She didn’t want around. She didn’t want to look at the tiny face that haunted her every night since she moved home to Kinsey House.
“I can’t do this anymore, David,” She whispered in defeat.
She sobbed, her tears flowing down her cheeks, ice cold from the change in the atmosphere.
Claire put her head in her hands. She wanted him to go away. She wanted to go back to her quiet life in New Jersey. Struggling to pay her bills, dealing with writer’s block, her publisher’s pressure to produce more work, and her loneliness had been so much easier. Much easier than finding out that her brother had been murdered.
They were selfish thoughts. She didn’t deny it, but sometimes she needed a break from her new reality.
She rocked back and forth hoping this world would fade into oblivion.
It didn’t.
Instead, she felt something brush against her side.
Stunned by the movement, Claire looked up to see Rose standing before her.
Claire could have sworn that Rose saw her as the two women’s blue eyes met and each one never turning away from the other.
Rose had aged ten years since Claire’s vision started. Her hair was straggly and whiter around her head. Her eyes sunken in with dark circles beneath them and she’d lost weight. Clothing hung off her thin frame making her look weak and tired.
Even in the garish world, Claire could clearly see the anguish on Rose’s face.
Claire then realized that Rose was holding something in her arms.
At first, Claire didn’t understand what the woman was cradling. She thought it looked like a bundle of laundry.
The laundry room was on the second floor. That bundle didn’t make sense.
Rose gazed down at the bundle in her arms and then sobbed bringing it close to her face.
Claire narrowed her eyes when she made out the head, the body, and the feet tightly wrapped in a blue sheet.