Adaline leaned in, hugging him. “That’s wonderful.”
He gripped her, holding tight. They hadn’t had this closeness in a while, and he longed for it. Her perfume drowned him in desire as he leaned in and smelled the base of her neck. She glanced up at him, and he tilted his head, bringing her lips to his. Cache caressed her face as a soft kiss turned to sparks of passion that had been dormant until now. Adaline gently clung to his hair, and his hands glided down her sides, still tangled in a tight embrace. She stopped kissing him and leaned away.
“What is it?” he asked, reaching for her hand.
“I was attacked today in my store.”
He got up from the couch. “What? Did you call the police?
Adaline glanced away. “No.”
“Why the hell not?” He paced the floor, gripping the base of his neck. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said.
Cache leaned down and looked at her. “I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine now, but I have something I need to show you that’s proof I’m not crazy.” Adaline scoured the room. “Do you see my coat?”
Cache stood and grabbed her coat hanging over the loveseat. “It’s right here.”
“Okay, in the pocket. There’s a crumbled piece of paper.”
Looking in both pockets of her coat, Cache’s fingers went right through the fabric. “Nothing’s in it. There’s a hole, though.”
Adaline bunched her fingers together. “That’s just not possible. Give me the coat.”
He brought it to her and watched her eyes grow wild as she opened her pockets, scratching through like a rampant dog. “Where is it?”
“What are you looking for?”
She glared up at him. “I got a threatening note, and it was my proof that I’m being followed, which you don’t seem to believe.”
Cache put his arm on her shoulder. “You said you were attacked. Let me see.”
Throwing the blanket on the couch, Adaline stood and crossed her arms. “Why, so you can make sure I’m being honest? I’m going upstairs for a while.”
“Babe, that’s not what I’m saying. Tonight’s date night. Why don’t we go out and get some fresh air?” He grabbed his keys out of his pocket. “I saw this great Italian restaurant down the street from my work. It smelled divine.”
Her eyes sank. “Can we stay in tonight an order takeout? I don’t feel like going anywhere right now.”
Cache hesitated. “Sure. We can go out some other time,” he said, loosening his tie.
Adaline’s face relaxed, and the tension in her eyes eased. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Okay. I need to order the takeout. I’ll be up shortly.”
She nodded and went upstairs, moving in slow, lethargic movements.
Cache called the Italian place by his work, but they didn’t do deliveries. He looked through his phone to find a pizza place nearby that delivered and called to place his order. Fifteen minutes until it was ready. He set his phone on the kitchen counter and walked into the living room.
He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the TV to see a shot of Lost Treasures filling the screen. Cache watched a clear shot of Adaline yelling at people outside the antique shop. He sat and watched for fifteen minutes, rewinding and fast-forwarding to get a visual on her face.
“It’s unclear why the store didn’t open today. The death of the Rushner girls has us all on edge these days,” said a brown-haired reporter.
Great. It’s only been a few days, and the media’s following us.
Someone knocked at the door. Cache paused the TV and dropped his gaze. He cracked his knuckles and stood in place, trying to make sense of why Adaline left that part out about her day.
Was she attacked?
Is this another story of hers?
He didn’t want to think she’d make up being attacked, but they’d been through all this before. She claimed everything she said was true, but she never had any proof to back her stories up.
The doorbell rang and Cache opened the door to a young man, who handed him his food without saying a word.
“Thank you,” Cache said, giving him a generous twenty-dollar bill. The kid nodded and ran to his car.
Cache shut the door and went upstairs. He paused, wondering if he should bring up the store incident with Adaline or wait and see if she told him herself.
Not tonight.
He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled marinara and garlic. His stomach growled to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“The food’s here, and it smells almost as good as the Italian place I passed today.”
When he turned the corner into his bedroom, Adaline was fast asleep on their bed.
He sat on the floor, leaning against the base of the bed, and raised his slice of pizza in the air as a toast.
Cheers. Congratulations, Cachie boy. Eat up.
His first few bites turned into angry mouthfuls. At least he had something to take his frustration out on.
Thirteen
Rushner Home
Tuesday, November 9th
8:30 a.m.
Officer Abbott stood above Mrs. Rushner, waiting for her to reply. He was grateful he got ahold of her husband, because for the past fifteen minutes, she hadn’t said a word. The lady’s chin trembled, and her eyes held fear. He bent down and tried to speak to her again with a strict tone.
“Miss, I’m here to help you. Are you okay?”
She tilted her head upward at him and squinted her blue eyes as the sun hit her face.
“I…don’t…know.”
“I’m Officer Abbott, and this is my partner, Officer Keaton. Your neighbor called to report the accident over here. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Why are you outside, ma’am?”
She clutched her chest and breathed heavy and fast. It seemed she was trying to stand up from her porch bench but wasn’t strong enough to steady herself.
A gust of wind blew in a repulsive odor, stinging his nose. He still couldn’t get used to the Great Salt Lake stench. She didn’t seem to appreciate it either, as she cringed and held on to her stomach. She hunched down further and nodded her head in reply to his question. Her hands shook as she held the bench tightly. “My—my husband, you have to call him. Our girls are…alive.”
“You have children?”
“Yes, two girls. Please, I need…to call him now.”
“He’s already on his way,” he said.
Mrs. Rushner paused to catch her breath and cleared her throat. “I lost our girls. What is he going to think of me now? They were right. I am no good.” She rocked back and forth, biting on her nail.
Abbott couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on here. Mrs. Rushner said her girls were alive and then claimed she lost them. She seemed borderline delusional. Something about her was very familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. “I need to ask you some questions to understand what happened.”
She sniffled and grabbed at her head again. “I’ll answer your questions.”
“Where are your girls?” he asked.
“They were in the kitchen, and someone took them, again.”
Officer Abbott peered at her. “Again?”
Clenching her fingers together, she looked at him from the bench and nodded.
A car door slammed, and a man with well-trimmed brown hair and sideburns walked toward them. He appeared to be around thirty years old, 6’1”, in good shape; he held no sign of being panicked, but more concerned.
Abbott stepped toward him. “Mr. Rushner, I assume.”
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Abbott, the one who called you. Let me just make sure everything is all clear before we enter into your home.”
Officer Keaton gave him a thumbs up from the front door. “Okay, we’re a go. I need you and your wife to fill out a missing person’s form and walk me through this morning.”
“I
understand. Can we speak in private in a moment?” Mr. Rushner asked.
Abbott stared at him and nodded. “All right.” He began walking to the front door and paused.
Mrs. Rushner stood. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her lip quivered.
“I’m right here,” Mr. Rushner said. He held her hand, and she followed behind him.
They made their way inside the house to furniture in shambles and broken shards of glass covering the wood floor where lamps and vases had fallen. The room looked like an intruder had come into their home and ransacked it. He waved Officer Keaton over and leaned in. “The other rooms?”
“Clean. No sign of tampering.”
“They were right here and then they were gone,” she said.
“Who?” Mr. Rushner asked.
“Leora and Eliza. They were eating and then they went outside, so I ran after them. I’m not sure what happened after that. Maybe I tripped or got hit in the head. I don’t know.”
“Ad.” Mr. Rushner kept rubbing his wrists, and the tone of his voice echoed stress directed toward her.
“Are Leora and Eliza your children?” Abbott asked.
“Our girls. Officer, they’re alive still. We need your help.” Mrs. Rushner held an object in her hand that dangled between her fingers—a gold chain with a green pendant. He stepped closer, trying to get a peek. On the face of the pendant was an owl. It was the same one left at the crime scene of his daughter, Aspen, when she disappeared a year ago. Abbott held his face and paced the floor.
Did the necklace mean something to her?
What was she hiding?
Mrs. Rushner stared at the kitchen table with horror. “How could I lose them again?” She gripped her throat, sunk to the ground, and screamed.
Fourteen
Adaline Rushner
Tuesday, November 9th
9:15 a.m.
Adaline could breathe easier now, but inside she was still screaming in ways that made her body crawl. The girls had been so close to her, confirming everything she believed for the past few weeks. They were alive.
“Take some deep breaths, honey. I’m right here.” Cache had concern in his brown eyes as he caressed her face. He gave her a paper bag and rubbed her forehead.
Officer Abbott positioned himself right next to the kitchen table. His eyes narrowed on her for a split second before he spoke to a short man with black-rimmed glasses.
“How do you feel?” Cache asked, handing her a glass of water.
She gripped the glass with shaking hands, trying to bring it to her mouth. The water spilled and rushed between the cracks in the wood floor. Setting the cup down, Adaline stumbled toward the front door. She felt winded, like there was no air in her lungs to supply her every breath. She studied the two men with Officer Abbott. Her neck stiffened. A lanky man with pale skin brushed past her, and the hairs on her arm stood upward. “Who is he?” Adaline pointed in the man’s direction.
Cache stepped close to the door and kissed her on the head. His tough arms wrapped tightly around her shoulder blade. “He’s here to assist.” He paused and opened her hand. “Why are you still holding on to that necklace? It’s caused us enough pain.”
“We believe different things.” She held the middle of the owl pendant and closed her eyes. “What if they aren’t who they say they are?”
He intertwined his fingers into hers and turned to face her. “Did you see the girls like you did before, in the car?”
Adaline opened her eyes. “I didn’t imagine it. I saw them like I’m seeing you now.”
Officer Abbott shuffled into the living room and raised his eyebrows. He placed his hands in his pocket and licked his lips. “Mrs. Rushner, did you do this to your furniture, or was it someone else?”
“What? No. Someone was in my house with the girls,” she said.
Officer Abbott raised his voice and gestured to the jumbled mess in their living room. “Your neighbor said she heard screaming and came to check on you. When she passed your front room window, she said you were tearing your house apart.”
What’s he talking about? She had the urge to jump up and run away. Nothing made any sense to her. I would remember if I lost it, wouldn’t I? “
Cache stepped toward her and squeezed her hand. “My wife’s been through a lot.”
Officer Abbott took out a ballpoint pen and a small notebook from his pocket. Scrunching his nose, he examined the room like he was taking inventory and jotted down some notes. “The thing is, Mr. and Mrs. Rushner, my partner was informed by your neighbor that she’s never seen you with kids since you moved in a few days ago.”
Adaline cupped her mouth with her hand. She peered at him like a fly she wanted to swat. Cache paced the floor, the blood vessels in his forehead bunched together.
“I’ve never met our neighbor, but she sure knows a lot about us. Maybe she’s in on this attack.” Her voice raised an octave.
Officer Abbott frowned and stared at her necklace. “Mrs. Rushner, could you indulge me for a minute? That necklace is unique. Quite rare, I’d say. Do you mind me asking where you got that from?”
“Officer, what is this about?” Cache asked.
“Just making conversation. It really is one of a kind, wouldn’t you say?”
Adaline held it tightly. “Yes, I would agree. A friend gave it to me when I was a child.”
He wrote something in his notebook and gazed up at her. “Is this friend still around?”
“Not that I know of. Why?” she asked.
“No reason.” He tilted his head and stepped backward.
She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her pictures. “Please, I’m begging you to look at this picture for one minute.”
Abbott hesitated before taking the phone from her. He stared at the picture and gasped.
Why did he gasp?
Adaline watched his hard exterior turn soft for a minute while he gripped her phone in his hand.
“This here is your oldest?” he asked, pointing to Leora’s face.
“Yes,” she said.
He crossed his arms, tilted his shoulders back, and looked away from the picture. His solid build grew stiff and his expression turned heavy.
“Addi, why don’t you go get a few of their favorite items to show Officer Abbott,” Cache said.
“That’s a good idea.” She squeezed his hand and walked slowly around the corner.
Cache believes in me. Don’t get angry with Officer Abbott. It will only make things worse.
She grabbed Pinkerton and Leora’s journal and halted before turning the corner.
“Our girls are dead, Officer. This is a misunderstanding,” Cache said. “We moved to get away from the media and to get a fresh start. Can we settle this and have you go on your way?”
“She must be dealing with quite a bit of trauma to believe she saw her girls. You need to get her checked.”
“Thank you for your concern, but my wife’s been this way before today,” he said. “She’s struggled with PTSD and hallucinations for a long time.”
“You said she was attacked though, is that correct?” Officer Abbott asked.
Neither one of them is on my side.
Adaline cleared her throat as she walked out of the bedroom. “Yes, I was attacked yesterday at my store, and my girls were taken by an intruder. Here are my girls’ items. I need to fill out a missing person’s report.”
Cache and Officer Abbott exchanged looks and glanced back at her.
“What are you both waiting for? We’re wasting time.” Adaline placed her hand on her heart and smiled. “Cache, could you get me a drink of water, please?”
He nodded and walked to the kitchen.
Adaline leaned into Officer Abbott and held his arm. “You gasped when you saw the picture of my daughter. Why?”
“No reason.”
“And my necklace?”
“I told you. It’s one of a kind. My wife likes antiques,” Abbott said.
“I don’t beli
eve you. I’m not lying, and deep down you know something’s off here.”
Officer Abbott rubbed his hands together and turned away. “Thank you, Mrs. Rushner. I think I got all I need. I’ll be in touch.” He walked to the front door and glanced back at her one last time before he left.
Fifteen
Dr. Lynchester
Tuesday, November 9th
12:00 p.m.
Dr. Lynchester got into her office after an early lunch and shielded her eyes from the blinding light coming through her windows. The week seemed to drag on forever, and it was only Tuesday. She dropped her daily planner on the desk and unlatched it to see what appointments were on the agenda. Having only a handful of sessions a day was all she could handle. Distancing herself from her client’s problems didn’t work well. She took home every case in her mind, stewing over how their lives could be better or how she could possibly help them.
Opening her cabinet, Dr. Lynchester pulled out some files and put them in order according to appointments. She had half an hour before her next session began.
“You can’t go in there. You don’t have an appointment today,” the receptionist yelled down the hall.
Dr. Lynchester glanced down the hallway, took a deep breath, and walked toward the front desk. She held a finger up to her client. Taking the phone out of the receptionist’s hand, she put the receiver to her ear.
“Yes. I’m sorry for the noise.” She paused. “How can I help make it better for you? I agree, and I understand why you’re frustrated. Your next session will be free of charge.” Placing the phone in the cradle, Dr. Lynchester glared at the receptionist and directed her attention to her client. “Make yourself comfortable in my office. I have some time. I’ll be there in a second.”
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said.
Dr. Lynchester turned back toward her. “Tayla, please don’t do that again. We’ll discuss it more later.”
She nodded.
Strolling down the hall, Dr. Lynchester shook her arms out before entering her office. She turned the corner and smiled. “We don’t have an appointment until next week. Are you okay?” she asked, taking a seat in her lounge chair.
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