Nothing.
There has to be something.
A bookmark with a unicorn saved Leora’s spot in The Secret Garden. She read it every night for weeks and could almost recite the story line for line. Their bulletin board showcased all their masterpieces—pictures of flowers, a smiling sun—blue like her favorite color—and clouds that rained sprinkles. A family of four little stick figures held hands in one of them, and hearts cascaded above their heads with the words “my happy ending” printed in multiple colors.
Adaline threw the book at the door and sunk to the ground. Her heart immediately ached for Leora’s favorite story that she just chucked across the room. She crawled to get it and noticed a fuzzy pink journal tucked between the closet and the girls’ dresser. Leora always kept her diary in a safe and clean area. It seemed odd that the journal was left in a place where it could get ruined. She picked it up and placed her hand on the cover. It had a big heart on the front, and the words “my eyes only” were embroidered in the middle of the heart. They’d all been informed many times that no one could touch this special book. Moving to Leora’s bed, without hesitation, Adaline flipped to the last entry in the journal.
October 11th,
I need a camera to catch the bad guy. Last nite I saw him outside my window. I went to sleep and he was there too, in my dreem with the owl. My mommy was there but she could not see me. I dont like the owls. I don’t think Mommy can see them anymore, but she needs to remember the little owls so the bad guy will go away. I need to help her. Leora V. R.
Adaline shuddered, and the muscles in her body stiffened as the shiver crept through her veins. She pulled the owl necklace out of her pocket, laying it in her hands. The emerald green eyes of the owl stared back.
I should’ve looked at this journal before. I could’ve prevented this from happening.
Why did Leora have these dreams? And who watched her outside the window?
Picking up the journal, she re-read the entry again.
Remember the little owls, so the bad guy will go away.
Adaline stood and moved to Eliza’s bed. She grabbed Pinkerton and nuzzled her nose in its soft fur, inhaling the sweet aroma. She moved to Leora’s side of the room, picked up her star blanket, and pressed it to her face. It held a freshly washed scent, just the way Leora liked it. Adaline lay on the floor between both of their beds. Staring up at the ceiling, she wished on the plastic glow in the dark stars that guarded all the girl’s dreams and happy thoughts. Or maybe it brought their nightmares instead.
Please come back home. Come back home to me.
Five
Adaline Rushner
Monday, October 18th
3:30 p.m.
A loud banging awoke Adaline from the sleep she didn’t know she took, but the drool on the side of her cheek said otherwise.
What time is it? How long was I asleep?
Light escaped through the semi-closed blinds. She wiped her face and sat up. “Girls. Is that you?”
Pinkerton fell from her lap, and she placed the star blanket next to the stuffed bear to tuck it back to sleep in her place. Adaline stood and ran toward the sound. She turned the corner into the living area, where snoring became an undertone of volume just barely beneath the banging.
The snoring belonged to Cache, who slept on the couch in a position that resembled Gumby. His arms outstretched in a fashion that one could only think had to be cutting off some circulation.
She walked toward the front door and opened it. The outside screen whipped back and forth, making the unpleasant sound she heard. A blizzard thrashed urgently, and the ground now held inches of snow she hadn’t seen a few hours ago. Adaline held her shoulders.
It’s too cold. The girls can’t be out in this white hell.
A police car sat out front with an officer sitting in place. He appeared to be focused on something she couldn’t see and he wasn’t moving much.
Was he still here because her concussion wasn’t a good enough alibi? Did he get the job to watch over the house and alert Officer Brandstrom when the girls come back? Were they in danger from someone? Who would even take the girls? None of this made any sense.
She marched back into the house and stared at the clock on her microwave.
3:30 pm.
Adaline rubbed her eyes and gazed at the bright red numbers again. The paramedics left around 11:15 am. Four hours. Had she been out for four hours instead of finding something more about her girls?
“Cache? Wake up.” She moved to the couch and tugged at his knee. “You need to get up. We can’t sleep. We have to stay awake.”
He jumped from the couch, smacking his arm against the coffee table. “Shit.”
“There’s more snow now. We’ve lost four hours, and they’re still gone.” Adaline rubbed her arms again. “Why aren’t they home?”
Cache sat and held the bridge of his nose. “I know how you feel.”
“If you do, then get up. Let’s leave.”
“Stop. You’re still a suspect, Addi. We can’t just leave,” he said.
She glared at him. “Are you kidding me? Have you even looked outside? Have you?” Adaline opened the blinds and waved her hand at the window. “I have an alibi. If the girls are outside, they’ll die in this. Don’t do this to me.”
He continued to hold the bridge of his nose and stare at the ground. “You’re not cleared just because you have a concussion.”
Adaline let go of the blinds and gripped her coat, squeezing it between her fingers. “So, that’s it? You’re going to sit there and do nothing?”
Cache tapped his foot in an annoying pattern. Maybe it was morse code? She might be able to understand that faster than whatever communication this was with him, not even looking at her and barely speaking. There was no fire or drive in him as he just sat there, tapping.
“I don’t understand. Do you know something I don’t know?” Adaline asked.
The tapping stopped, and he raised his head to stare at her. It was the way she peered at the pills she kept being told to take but didn’t want to. Adaline recognized the anger and distaste in his eyes. “What the hell do you want me to do? I can’t fix this. They’re gone, and if they’ve been outside, they’re dead already.” He looked away and smashed his fist into the coffee table. It crumbled to the ground, piece by piece, some glass holding on to what used to be.
Adaline covered her mouth and watched Cache as his bleeding hand shook. “Honey.” She moved into the kitchen and pulled out a clean cloth from the top drawer. She soaked it under running water and wrung it out before walking back to Cache. Adaline reached for his hand to clean the blood from his knuckles, but he pulled his hand away.
“I’m fine.” He turned his body away from her.
She shook her head and threw the washcloth at him. “Suit yourself.”
The doorbell rang a few times, and Adaline’s heart thudded as she opened the door. Officer Mills stood outside. “Can I come in?”
Adaline moved aside, letting him trudge past her. He walked way too slow, like gravity had changed and become thicker. Each step was sinking into quicksand. She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Cache gazed up at Officer Mills, and they both nodded to each other. Before Adaline could say anything, her cell phone rang. She gasped and leaped to grab it from the couch. “Hello.”
“It’s Brandstrom.” He paused for a moment. “Have you taken your girls to the dentist lately?”
Adaline clung tighter to the phone. “A few weeks ago. Leora grinds her teeth with her night terrors. We got her a mouthguard and had Eliza checked at the same time. Why?”
“Did you have them examined by Mr. Yardley?”
“Yes. What’s this about?”
Brandstrom cleared his throat. “We found something and need to get your girls’ dental records faxed over to verify the information. I’m going to call Mr. Yardley, and I’ll let you know what we find out.”
The room spiraled like static around her, unable to p
rocess what he just had said. “Verify what information exactly?”
“It may not be anything at all.”
Cache stood next to her, his hand on her arm. Adaline took a deep breath before asking the question her mind wanted to ignore. “What did you find?”
“That’s all I can say right now, but I’ll let you and Cache know once I hear anything,” he said.
Adaline dropped the phone on the ground and held her chest. She tried to brace herself from the spinning by gripping Cache’s arm. Her body grew cold and switched off. Numbness took over.
Cache rubbed her hand, picked up the phone, and paced back and forth. She reached to him, but nothing happened with her arms as her body fell toward the couch. She lay motionless. Numb.
This is not real. Wake up, Adaline.
She shook her head, and the nerves in her neck stretched like taffy, further and further away from consciousness.
Officer Mills bent down near her face to look at her and extended his hand to offer support. She peered back and quickly glanced away as his blue eyes held no promise, no hope, and no fight. Isn’t blue the color of hope? Isn’t his job not to give up? To not look at people in a way that says all is lost? Instead, it resembled drowning in the sea.
Adaline gazed at the butterflies in the corner of the ceiling. The same ones Officer Brandstrom stared at before he left and made a false promise that he’d be back. Calling on the phone is always easier to deliver messages that you’d rather not convey in person. She put her hands in her coat pocket and clung to the owl necklace, rubbing it like it would grant her a wish. Her eyes focused on the yellow counter that she painted on one of her insomnia binges. A week ago, Adaline watched a home decorating show that talked about ways to make your home more joyful and lively. The idea of painting the color you wished you felt intrigued her at the time, and even brought hope it could work to pep up her mood. Yellow mocked Adaline now, reminding her that joy was not meant for everyone.
Fucking counter. I hate you.
Six
Adaline Rushner
Monday, October 25th
A whole week had gone by since the girls left to play in the snow and vanished only moments later. One week ago, Adaline planned to have a birthday celebration for Leora with a Halloween-themed party, a pinata, and a five-layered cake with all the toppings. Her birthday was two days ago, and they didn’t celebrate. There was no cake, no party, no laugher or music, no guests, and her girls hadn’t come home.
She’d cleaned up more glass, tears, blood, and throw up the past few days than she ever remembered with the girls. Not the kind of party anyone should have. Adaline sat on the girl’s bedroom floor, waiting for them to come back and have a tea party with her. She wasn’t the only one who anticipated their arrival. Multiple stuffed friends circled a picnic blanket, ready for their special feast that Eliza put together every Monday.
Today was Monday, and they’d never missed a picnic until now. Adaline held the camera Cache picked up for Leora’s birthday present. The item they thought she wanted to capture the beauty in the world, but she wanted it to catch the bad guy that lurked and watched their home at night—the one who probably took them.
Adaline could’ve stopped the kidnapper if she had listened more closely to her daughter.
I haven’t given up. I’ll find you, my sunshine and star.
Ms. Dunbar stopped by yesterday to bring a basket of apples so that once the family got together, an apple pie baking day could happen. She gave Adaline the same faces everyone else continued to give her. The “all hope is lost” and “sorry for your loss” looks, even though hope would never be lost when it came to finding the girls. Not for Adaline.
The last they heard from Officer Brandstrom, he had talked to their dentist, Mr. Yardley, to get the girls’ dental x-rays faxed over for examination. Adaline had never been one to know or care much about forensic science or lab results, but it sounded like they found a body. It felt awful to wish it was someone else’s kids they found instead of hers, but she clung to hope and continued to pour tea into the little ceramic cups sitting in front of Pinkerton and his other stuffed friends.
Cache hadn’t said much since that call. He mostly lingered in their bedroom or went out to the shed, staying there for hours on end, like a ghost that haunted himself.
Adaline’s cell phone rang from the living area.
She jumped, knocking over the teacup next to her, and continued to sit, frozen in place. Her shoulders tensed, and her throat tightened. The phone had become a 50/50 game that played with her heartstrings every time the alarming blare sounded from that stupid box of communication.
Did they find your girls? Or will they still be missing?
Adaline stood, and her knees shook under her. She took small steps and tried to focus on breathing as her mind told her not to pick it up—the phone lay on the kitchen counter and continued to ring. The number on her cellphone belonged to Officer Brandstrom She reached her hand out and pressed the answer button, bringing the phone slowly to her ear.
“Brandstrom,” she said in a whisper.
“Addi. Is Cache home?”
She nodded even though he couldn’t see that. “Yes. Why?”
He cleared his throat. “He didn’t answer his phone.”
“Cache isn’t speaking much to anyone, but I can deliver a message to him.” She gripped the phone tighter.
“I need to talk to both of you together. I’m on my way to your house.”
Adaline’s mouth felt dry. She opened a cupboard in the kitchen and grabbed a glass. “Why?”
He paused. “I’ll see you both soon.”
The phone slid from her hands, and the glass dropped onto the floor. She should’ve never answered and continued with the tea party instead.
Officer Brandstrom pulled up to their house ten minutes after he called. Adaline and Cache were already at the door, waiting to let him in and watching his every move.
He got out of his police car with no urgency or confidence in his step, staring at the ground. She wanted him to come back to the house previously, but now maybe he could hear her telepathically telling him to get back into his car. Adaline swallowed hard and placed her hand on Cache’s shoulder. He opened the door and gazed back at her, his hurt mirroring what she felt inside.
The open door carried a breeze that whipped at Adaline’s cheeks, and she shivered. Officer Brandstrom stepped in, holding his hands together and nodding to them both. “Cache. Adaline. Can you take a seat?”
Cache shut the door and stood in place, not moving from the entryway.
“I’m fine right where I am,” Adaline said. “What’s going on? Did you find the girls?”
Brandstrom glanced down again and wiped his face. “There’s been confirmation that the bodies we found a week ago are Leora and Eliza.” He shuffled his feet. “I’m so sorry. I have the number for the funeral director to help you walk through the next steps.”
Adaline ground her teeth. “No. You’re lying. Why would you lie to us?”
“I’m not lying to you.” He handed the paper with the phone number out toward her.
“I’m not calling a funeral director. They’re not dead.”
Cache’s eyes raged like a bull as he looked up and moved deliberately, ready to charge. “What happened?”
“You should take a seat.”
Adaline shook her head and watched as Cache took a few more steps toward Brandstrom, hoping that his face wouldn’t end up like their coffee table.
Brandstrom rubbed his chin. “Their bodies were found a few miles down the dirt road.”
“I want to see their bodies. It might not be them,” Adaline said. “You have to be sure. I’d know.”
“It’s not possible for you to see them.”
Cache stepped in front of Adaline and peered at him. “What the hell do you mean it’s not possible? We want to see our daughters.”
“They were burned alive.” He gulped, and a rogue tear slid from his eye.
“There’s nothing to see. That’s why we ran the dental records, Cache.”
Adaline stepped backward and held her stomach. “NO. We have a tea party, dammit. You have the wrong girls. Mine are coming home.” She braced herself against the wall, and Cache walked toward her.
“Do you know who did this?” Cache asked.
“Does Braxton Wheeler mean anything to you?” Brandstrom put his hands in his pocket.
Cache squatted and bunched his fists. “He did this?”
The name sent chills through Adaline’s body, remembering how the man called her a slut at Cache’s old job and followed her to her car, promising a good time, right before he pressed himself up against her while she tried to fight him off. He was stronger. Much stronger.
“That piece of shit sexually assaulted my wife, and I got him fired for it.” He stood. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him?”
“He’s dead,” Brandstrom said. “We identified his body with your girls.”
Adaline slid down the wall and sat in a puddle of numbness, holding her knees. Tears slid down her face. She couldn’t think or move. She pretended that instead of hugging her knees, she was hugging the girls. Warm bodies with laughter, noise, whining, complaining, messes, asking a million questions about the world, sleepless nights, and endless days of worry about being a good mother. She didn’t cherish those moments enough.
Please don’t leave me. Come back.
Seven
Two Weeks Later
Owling, Utah
Sunday, November 7th
Adaline didn’t want to leave her home.
Multiple boxes sat on the porch taunted her as moving day had arrived, whether she wanted it or not. She sat on her daughter’s tire swing, arms outstretched, the wind tugging at her hair. The screen door to her home slammed, and the sky turned black. Her hope clouded but still lay dormant. Cache walked toward her, worry lines creased as he stared in her direction. She could pick out that face a mile away and know what he was thinking. Adaline clung to the owl necklace wrapped around her neck and rubbed the green pendant on its belly like she’d be granted a wish.
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