Little Owl
Lauri Schoenfeld
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Acknowledgments
Lauri Schoenfeld
Paperback Edition 2021
Published by Twisted Whisperings
Original copyright © 2021
by Lauri Schoenfeld
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in this story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.
Publishing Partnership with Candace Thomas
Shadesilk Press
Compilation Edited by Talysa Sainz
Cover Design by Monika MacFarland
Ampersand Book Covers
Formatting by Christine Nielson
Nielson Editing Co.
Published in the United States of America
BISAC
Psychological; Thriller; Murder; Suspense; Mystery
ISBN
978-1-7352331-1-6
Library of Congress
2021910292
I dedicate this book to my husband and three kids, who’ve been my biggest supporters throughout this eleven-year writing journey. They’re the reason why I constantly fight to be the best version of myself. Also, to my thirteen-year-old self with a dream to write and publish a book . . . WE DID IT!!!
One
Owling, Utah
Monday, October 18th
8:15 a.m.
Adaline poured herself a cup of coffee and rubbed her eyes. Continual nights of sleeplessness wouldn’t be sustainable. She knew that. She wanted to crawl back in bed and not get up for a while. If it weren’t for the girls, she’d be there now.
For days.
Weeks.
Who knew—it all blended together.
Her daughter, Leora, had been having reoccurring night terrors and claimed someone was watching their house. Adaline pretended not to show her discomfort, or to mention she felt this all the time. Her insomnia came from the fear that childhood monsters had never left. They weren't the kind of monsters with snarling teeth or claws that pull out your eyes, but people. They wore a skin and looked pleasant, but evil lurked inside, underneath their sinister and perfect smiles. The ones that brought her back to her childhood home. When they had hovered over her, she’d wished to be taken away or put out of her misery.
No one came back then.
They were dead. Adaline knew they were, but fear of their arrival sat on her chest in the form of anxiety.
Adaline took a deep breath and placed two heart-shaped plates on the wooden table. She glanced out the window. The newly carved pumpkins sitting on the porch were invaded by specks of white.
Dammit.
The snow was not in the plans for her daughter’s Halloween-themed eighth-birthday bash, happening in only a few days. She didn’t want to come up with another new idea.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
Adaline jumped, spilling some of her coffee on the freshly painted yellow counter—a side perk of last week’s insomnia binge created while the world slept. Yellow should invigorate joy. She hoped the joy would rub off. “Morning.” She turned around and smiled at her husband, Cache.
Cache had this smirk he’d give her that was a perfect blend of mischievous and playful. She adored it. Adaline also loved his short, curly, brown hair. Running her fingers through it gave her a sense of calm and joy. The curly strands bounced back like a slinky.
He leaned in to hug her. She embraced him, fighting the urge to play with his now smooth and groomed hair. Cache didn’t like his hair messed up before work. Stepping back, he peered at her. “You didn’t sleep again last night. Are you taking your pills?”
She hated those damn pills. They made her feel worse than she felt without them. That’s saying something. In the past, Adaline only took them occasionally to stop being asked if she took her pills, until a few months ago when she got worse and her depression escalated. They didn’t work. “Nope.” She turned to drink her coffee.
“Why? They’re supposed to be helping you.”
Adaline stood in silence, staring at her coffee and watching it spiral from her sip. “They don’t work.” She glanced back at him.
He scratched his head. “You haven’t tried it long enough, honey. You need to stick with it.”
The handle on the mug in her hand grounded her. She clung to it, placing all her emotions inside. Adaline was so tired of being told by other people how to feel. That she somehow didn’t know her own body, heart, and mind.
How the hell would they know?
Cache wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her from behind. “I just want the best for you.”
Adaline didn’t say anything. Nothing nice would come out of it. She continued to grip her mug and stared out the window. Whimpering and tugging on her robe drew her attention. She peered down at two brown eyes and a pouty nose. “Hi, puppy.” Her five-year-old daughter, Eliza, loved pretending to be a dog. Adaline diverted out of Cache’s hold and placed her coffee on the counter. “What’s the matter?”
Eliza whimpered again. “I can get you my step stool, Mama.”
She wobbled around the kitchen, half-human and half-dog, and lugged the stool toward Adaline. “Here you go. This will help you reach daddy.”
Adaline bent down. “Thank you, my star. That will be helpful, indeed.”
Eliza smiled, then paused.
“What is it?”
“I don’t think the bad dream spray is working for sissy,” she said. “Moving is scary.”
Adaline didn’t blame her for being resistant to change. When they went down to Salt Lake City a few months ago, everythin
g came together so quickly. Cache got a new job opportunity at a business firm, and they found a nearby cottage home with a big backyard with lots of room for all their needs and more. Their neighbor, Ms. Dunbar, owned an antique store in Salt Lake City called Lost Treasures. The previous manager left, and she asked if Adaline would like to be the new manager. Adaline loved the idea of being surrounded by beautiful items needing a home. She understood and related to it. Now, with all the change coming in a few weeks, uncertainty and fear begged her not to leave. To take it all back. Nothing happy happened without a price. She learned that long ago and worried safety and happiness was too good to be true.
Adaline brushed Eliza’s forehead, and a brown ringlet bounced in place. “I will talk to your sister, and we’ll figure it out. Pinky promise.” She put her finger out, and Eliza latched on to it with her own little one.
Eliza seemed satisfied as she bobbed into her chair. “You kissed my sandwich, mama. I love it.” She began eating her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, complete with one bite already taken. She liked to call it a “kiss.” One only her mom could give.
“What time is it?” Leora came around the corner of the hall, rubbing her eyes. She yawned. Her long blonde hair was tangled in a circular web across her scalp.
Cache trotted toward her and picked her up in his arms. “It’s time to get up, sleeping beauty, and help your mom go party shopping. Someone’s having a birthday.”
“Daddy, put me down.”
“Not until you tell me who’s birthday it could be,” Cache said.
Leora wiggled around. “Okay. Okay. It’s my birthday.”
Adaline gazed at Leora’s swollen eyes and pale skin. Sleeplessness was taking a toll on her too. So many nights, Leora would make her way out of bed, screaming and crying, and stare out the bedroom window.
Adaline caressed Leora’s cheek with her fingertip. “Do you want to talk?”
She tilted her head. “Someone’s watching you, mom.”
One of the only techniques that calmed her racing heart, even for a moment, was counting, so she closed her eyes and counted in her head.
One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five.
She knelt and brought Leora inward, hugging her. “No one gets to take me away from my sunshine. I’ll stay with you and keep an eye out tonight.”
She smiled. “Okay. You’ll stay with me?”
“Yes. You, my sunshine, have me forever and ever. And you have that amazing dad of yours too.”
Cache pointed to himself, making a statement of agreement. “No one is watching you or your mom. Your imagination is just going wild and telling you things that aren’t happening.”
Adaline picked up the turquoise pillow on the couch and choked it a few times. “It’s real to her, Cache.”
“Of course it is. But there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
How many times had she heard that growing up? How many times had people told her she was lying about the abuse happening in her house? Her imagination has gone wild, they’d say. Her parents were well-known and good people. To fuck, they were. Let’s keep pretending there aren’t horrible people in the world or fear isn’t something everyone goes through.
Adaline tapped on Leora’s nose. “Why don’t you hurry and eat, and then you girls can go outside and play for a bit while I get dressed.”
Eliza grinned. “There’s snow. Daddy, can you stay and play with us?”
“I would love to, but I have a meeting,” he said. “Raincheck?”
She pouted. “Okay, next time.”
He kissed the girls on the head. “I love you. Enjoy the snow and spending time with your mama. Lucky ducks.”
“Bye, Daddy,” they sang in unison.
Adaline fluffed the pillow before putting it back on the couch. “Don’t forget to pick up that ‘thing’ this morning.”
“Will do. Take your meds. They’ll help.” He brought Adaline in for another kiss before he opened the garage and stepped out.
Adaline pulled out her phone and glanced at the long list of errands and chores for the day.
Ugh.
She often wished a magical fairy would make the long list of things disappear with a wave of her wand, and she could spend the day playing with the girls. Party shopping was a priority—if Leora still wanted a birthday bash. Adaline peered up from her phone to see the girls no longer at the table but getting their boots on.
“Where do you both think you’re going?”
“Mama, you said if we ate, we could go see the snow,” Eliza said.
Adaline looked at the time on her phone and cleared her throat. “I did, didn’t I?”
They both smiled and rushed to hug her.
“Get your coats and gloves on and stay in the front yard,” she said. “Love you.”
“Love you back,” Eliza said it like a wind chime dancing in the air.
Adaline planted her hand on Leora and rubbed her back. “I believe you. It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m okay, Mama,” she said. “Just tired.”
“If you see anything strange, scream. I’ll come right out,” Adaline said.
Leora looked up and nodded.
“Make sure to stay—”
“In the yard.” Eliza threw her hands in the air. “We know it. You tell us a thousand times.”
“Well, now a thousand and one times,” Adaline said, holding up her phone. “Wait a moment. I want to take a picture.”
Eliza smiled on command and Leora rolled her eyes. They both leaned into each other and Adaline snapped the picture. “Beautiful.”
Nodding, they both waltzed out the door to grab the snowflakes.
Adaline smiled and paused, taking in their laughter. There was nothing better than giggling and hearing their joy over the small yet beautiful things, like snow—a reminder of why she didn’t stay in bed.
She walked to her bedroom and put her phone on the nightstand to charge. The battery was low. Adaline let her robe fall to the floor, took out a long-sleeved t-shirt and black leggings from her top drawer, and got dressed. Opening the bottom drawer, all nine pairs of her forest green fuzzy socks welcomed her. She grabbed a pair, put them on, and went to the closet to find a hat.
Errand day equaled hat day.
Sitting on the bed, Adaline thought about how to support herself and Leora in sleeping better. So many sleepless nights. Nothing seemed to help either one of them.
What am I doing wrong?
Adaline stood from the bed and went into the kitchen, peering out the window. She couldn’t hear the girls’ high-pitched squeals or giggles of delight that she always heard when they played outside. Lifting the blinds, she glanced left and right.
Nothing.
I’m sure they’re all right.
No sound.
Her heart picked up pace, and her feet moved under her before she knew she had left the kitchen. The fast motion made her shaky knees feel as if they were in control. She took a deep breath, but her chest clenched harder. Adaline yanked her coat off the hanger in the hall closet and slammed the door.
“Leora. Eliza? Are you okay?”
She yelled louder as she stepped down the front porch. The snow fell quickly, and the tire swing rocked back and forth, but there was no sign of wind.
Left. Right. Left.
“Girls, I don’t want to play games right now. Come out.”
No movement or sound answered her.
Adaline ran to the shed as her body shook. The girls loved to play doctor in there where they’d take care of all their pretend farm animals.
Keep it together. Don’t freeze. Keep it together.
The air in her lungs grew shallower and she tightened her grip on her coat pocket.
One . . . two . . . three . . . breathe.
She opened the shed. It smelled like old, wet wood, mold, and leather. There wasn’t a place in there the girls could hide and not be seen. She gasped.
No. Please, God. No. Don’t do this to me.
Tears poured down her cheeks.
Her pulse thrashed, and her legs moved, but her body felt slower. It was taking too long. Was she running or not moving at all? Her head spun, and she focused on only one thing, the front door.
She gripped the doorknob, threw the door open, and rushed inside. She bent down to look under the couch and leaped back up, after only seeing dust bunnies mock her. Adaline pushed the couch, and the lamp on the side table crashed to the ground. Gripping her hair, she counted.
She kept counting as she moved to the girls’ bedroom. Her heart skipped, seeing their door wide open.
They’re just sitting on their bed—nothing to worry about.
Butterflies and rainbows flew across the ceiling, saying hello in place of her girls. The room held scattered toys and remnants of playtime, and their beds nurtured stuffed animals, but not them. She covered her mouth.
“No. This can’t be happening. NO.” Adaline clung to her stomach and tried to stop herself from hurling up the coffee she just had.
Her arms shook, and her legs wobbled. Every nerve in her body felt like needles pushing through her skin over and over. She reached for her heart and patted it to remind it to beat.
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