The client looked sleep-deprived and unwell. Her eyes drooped, and her skin held an unhealthy yellow tint. Normally she dressed nicely, but today she wore an oversized T-shirt and jeans with multiple holes in them. Sections of her hair were matted and hadn’t been combed.
“No. I’m not well. I’m not sure I can do this anymore.”
“Do what? Talk to me about it,” Dr. Lynchester said.
“Follow through with the plan.” The client fidgeted, and her hands shook.
“What plan? The action plan we talked about three weeks ago?”
She snorted. “You think I care about your plan? There’s a bigger plan at play here.”
“How about you enlighten me on this bigger plan?” Dr. Lynchester sat at the edge of her seat and hunched over just enough to show her interest.
The client bounced her foot up and down. “I can’t. That’s the problem. I want to, but I can’t. They know too much. If I make a wrong move, they’ll know I failed.”
“Sometimes you have to show people you’re in charge. Tell them you won’t follow the plan.”
Loud laughter echoed across the room. “You shrinks are funny. You always think talking is the solution for everything. See, I’m in too deep now, Doc. There’s no getting out of this one unless I want to die.”
Chills ran across Dr. Lynchester’s back and she pulled her sweater on. “What are you into? I can help you.” She reached for her hand. “Is it drugs? Money? Is someone harassing you? I can get you protection.”
“Drugs . . . not this time. Money?” The client paused. “Money’s always a problem, isn’t it? You get in bed with the wrong person, and before you know it, they control you.”
“So, you’re being harassed? Is someone harming you?”
“I’ve been harassed by this person for a long time and—”
“And what?”
The woman held her finger over her mouth and stood up, retrieving something from her pocket. She continued to gaze around the room and began throwing books onto the floor. The client brushed past, stuffing an object in Dr. Lynchester’s jacket. She moved close to Dr. Lynchester’s face.
“There’s no saving me, Doc,” she whispered in her ear. Stepping back, she kicked the chair next to her foot. Her voice raised as she walked out of the room. “Thanks for the enlightening conversation.” The door slammed shut, knocking Dr. Lynchester’s lamp off the side table, shattering it into pieces.
She gazed around her office, taking in the mess her client just made. Oddly, there was no anger as she tore the office apart; it was more like a distraction of some sort. Dr. Lynchester bent down to pick up the pieces of the lamp. Something caught her eye in the mix of glass, and she leaned closer to retrieve a black object.
A bug.
The room had been bugged. She remembered the item her client left her and placed her cold hand into her jacket pocket. Something crinkled in her hand as she gripped it and brought it to her face. An old piece of crumbled newspaper gnawed at her curiosity as she opened it. Big bold letters written in Sharpie said “Protect Adaline” across the header.
Sixteen
Adaline Rushner
Tuesday, November 9th
12:30 p.m.
Adaline awoke to the house being empty and quiet. Her mind still felt foggy, but a new sense of being vigilant awakened after Officer Abbott’s curious reactions to both her necklace and Leora’s picture. The eagerness to find out the truth activated, giving Adaline energy and purpose.
She moved to Leora’s bed, replacing Pinkerton gently in its place, and without hesitation flipped to the last entry in her journal.
October 11,
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 shivered.
Little Owl.
The man at her store called her that. She dropped her head into her hands.
Remember the little owls so the bad guy will go away.
She lay down on the floor, resting the journal on her chest. It moved up and down in sync with her breathing. Adaline closed her eyes to focus on the day’s events and mouthed the words “remember the little owls” a few times.
A fire blazing, her parents screaming, and an unknown face staring at her, as a memory flashed in her mind.
She jolted as she gasped for breath, and the pages in Leora’s journal scattered across the floor. Adaline scrambled to pick them up and choked on what tasted like smoke.
“Addi, what are you doing in here?” Cache frowned.
She looked up at him. “Fire.”
Cache came to her, gripping her hand. “What fire?”
“I saw them burning…screaming.”
“Who?”
“My parents,” she said. “I felt the intensity of the heat on my arms.”
“You’re going through a lot of trauma,” he said. “Let me go get your pills.”
“But I saw a face in the flames.”
“Whose face?”
She picked at her nail. “I’m not sure. It’s blurry. Why can’t I see the face?”
“The fire your parents died in was an accident. Let it go,” he said. “You need some sleep.”
Adaline shook her head. “You’re not listening to me. I don’t think my parents’ death was an accident, and I don’t think our girls missing is a coincidence. I know something. Why can’t I remember?”
“Come here.” He pulled Adaline into his arms. “I can’t go through this. Not again. I’m not going to sit in this room with all their toys and pretend like this isn’t killing me.”
Adaline held his hand. “What do you mean, again? We have to have faith.”
“I don’t believe in faith.”
She peered away. “Then believe in me.”
Cache’s cell phone rang and he let go of her hand. “I need to take this call. I’ll be right back.”
Adaline nodded and dug her fingernails into Leora’s journal.
Who was the person with the blurred face? Who would take the girls? How did my parents die?
Too many unsolved questions.
“I’ll take care of it,” Cache said from the hall.
What’s he up to?
Too many secrets, even within the walls of this prison she lived in. Whoever had been targeting her and watching her girls in the weeks before they were taken had no idea what she was capable of. Now there would be no mercy.
Seventeen
Officer Abbott
Salt Lake Police Station
12:30 p.m.
Easton Abbott had spent most of the morning at the Rushner’s place. Both the husband and wife had a different story about what happened to their girls, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the owl necklace he’d just seen. It teased him all morning and pulled at his heartstrings.
He bunched his fists.
Aspen.
Abbott rubbed his bald head and went to the coffeemaker, placing a Styrofoam cup under the spout. Walking back to his desk, he positioned the cup next to a picture of his daughter and tugged on the beaded bracelet around his wrist that said “Daddy.” He wished many times that she’d miraculously be found, but after a year, hope had vanished. The picture Mrs. Rushner gave him of their daughter, Leora, looked exactly like his daughter, Aspen. That brought some mistaken belief back that there could be a chance.
He took a sip of his coffee and opened his laptop. In the search engine, he typed “Rushner” and paused.
Don’t do this.
It’s over.
Move on.
Abbott tapped his fingers on the desk and stared at the picture of Aspen. The remorse taunted him, and his craving intensified. Opening his cabinet, he looked at the bottle of Vodka enticing him to forget the pain.
&
nbsp; “How are you holding up, Champ?” Chief Stalk asked.
He slammed the cabinet and turned around in his chair. “What?”
“I heard you were the first patrol officer at the Rushners’ place today. I knew their case would hit home,” he said. “I’d hoped you weren’t the one to respond to it.”
“Why would it hit home?” Abbott asked.
Chief Stalk peered at the laptop and pointed. “Looks like you were about to do some research.”
He grimaced and nodded.
“That case is never one you want to witness or hear about. Just awful.” The chief shook his head. “We all know about that, don’t we?”
Abbott cracked his knuckles. “I’m not following.”
“The Rushners’ just moved here. Their girls are the headliners right now and all the media has been talking about,” he said. “The Brutal Owling Murder. No need to send a missing person’s report.”
Holding the desk, Abbott realized the comment the chief mentioned earlier was directed at him.
Aspen’s disappearance.
He looked away. His job had enough for him to see firsthand that the news hadn’t been something he paid much attention to. That explained why the Rushers’ appeared to be at war with each other. Grief takes you down roads you don’t plan, until it happens, and coping with it becomes a whole different beast. Abbott understood that well.
“Champ?”
“Yes, Chief?” Abbott asked, staring at him.
Tapping his foot, Stalk stared back for a minute. “Do we have a problem?”
“No. I can handle it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He took off his glasses and peered down at him. “Is this case too close to home?”
Abbott sank his head and took another sip of his coffee. “We’re good. I’m clean now.”
“Good man.” Chief Stalk patted him on the shoulder. “What did Mrs. Rushner say happened?”
“She believes someone was in their house this morning, with her girls, which clearly is not possible,” he said.
“I see. Mr. Rushner?”
“He mentioned they had . . . died.”
The chief nodded. “Okay. I need you to file a report. Also, can you call and tell the Rushners’ to come into the station?”
Abbott scratched his head. “Sir?”
“She’s off her rocker claiming she saw her daughters, but maybe whoever hurt their girls is after her. Or, there’s always a chance she collaborated to harm her own children and is staging this whole thing.” He combed his mustache. “They just moved to our city. We need to figure out what we’re dealing with here.”
“Is the murderer still at large?”
“They believe the man who captured them is dead as well,” Stalk said. “It doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on this situation though.”
Memories flooded in of the night his partner knocked on the door, telling him the news about his own daughter. After she vanished, he became the worst version of himself. There wasn’t a reason to keep the world safe if he couldn’t even protect his own child. Abbott closed his eyes.
The owl necklace.
What if Mrs. Rushner harmed his daughter or knew information about what happened to her? And if she was in on hurting those girls of hers, he wanted justice to be served.
His hand trembled. “I absolutely agree. We should investigate them more.”
Chief Stalk patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Champ.”
He squeezed his phone and dialed the number written on his report. Abbott shook his head, the desire for a shot of whiskey nearly overwhelming. He hoped this wasn’t too close to home.
Eighteen
Adaline Rushner
Tuesday, November 9th
1:00 p.m.
The police station held an aroma of coffee, and Adaline couldn’t see any sign of their girls. Her hands shook as she gripped her purse.
“Where are they?” she asked.
“Officer Abbott just said they need more information, honey.” Cache held her hand, and she could feel that his shook too. Their nerves seemed to be flowing an anxious and excited dance together through their fingers. She could taste the energy flowing through her. Adaline stood on her tiptoes and scanned every area of the room. Her eyes grazed over a dead tree in the corner, and her heart sank. A water fountain and some cups were on her right side. She let go of Cache’s hand to fill a cup with water, then moved through the desks to sit next to the tree. She slowly let the water soak the soil to feed the already dead tree, waiting for it to come back to life and stand tall on its own. For its essence to come forth. It didn’t move, and dread grabbed her. It was gone. This beautiful creation had no more strength in its limbs. She held her stomach and walked back to Cache.
“Love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” Cache said.
“I love you too. We’re going to find them.”
He kissed and squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.
A big office toward the back had glass doors that read “Lieutenant Stalk.” Adaline knew he had seen them come in, but he still sat at his desk without acknowledging their presence. The man’s head was as shiny as a marble, and his dark brown mustache looked overly groomed, like he combed it multiple times a day. She tapped her foot and cleared her throat.
“They’ll be with us in a minute,” Cache said.
“They can’t just call and leave us here to wait. He’s just sitting there.”
“We’re not the only ones who have problems.”
Adaline growled at him and let go of his hand. She stomped to the lieutenant’s door and knocked with force.
The man glanced up, shook his head, and opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Officer Abbott. We’re supposed to meet him here. He’s expecting us.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Rushner, I presume. Thank you for coming in so quickly. I’m Lieutenant Stalk, and I asked Officer Abbott to call you.”
“Do you know where our girls are?” Adaline asked.
“Can you both come in and take a seat?”
Cache exchanged a glance with her, and they made their way to the hard chairs across from his desk. He placed his hand on her leg, and she could tell he was bracing himself. Adaline put her hand on top of his, the warmth comforting her. Sitting at the edge of her chair, she held still almost forgetting to breathe.
Lieutenant Stalk moved his mug of coffee to the side. He tapped his fingers on his desk with perfect tempo to the ticking of the clock and glanced at Adaline. Holding her gaze for a moment, he shifted his sight on Cache.
Why was he acting so weird? My girls are fine, I can feel it.
“All right, folks. Listen, I’m aware you just moved in and want to make sure there won’t be any more disturbances.”
“I don’t quite understand your question,” she said. “We just moved here, less than a week ago, from Owling. Honestly, we don’t know any of our neighbors yet. I’ve been so busy unpacking, I haven’t been able to do anything else. We’ve kept to ourselves.”
Cache didn’t move. Adaline squeezed his hand in hopes it would jolt him out of his trance. Nothing.
Lieutenant Stalk shook his head. “I’m aware of your story. Most people are, so carrying on that your girls are alive is drawing attention and creating chaos.”
The sound of her heartbeat thrashed in her ears, and tingling ran up her arms. Adaline could see Cache talking to her, but the volume muffled.
She had to make a move. No one was on her side. She had to leave and never come back. Adaline ran for the door and held the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. Arms grabbed her waist and pulled her backward as she kicked at the ground. She couldn’t hear herself scream, but she raged her protest, and the room got heavier until the spinning stopped and she let go.
Nineteen
Cache Rushner
Police Station with Officer Abbott
1:30 p.m.
Adaline’s face was swollen and blotchy, adding years t
o her fair complexion. She’d finally settled down. Cache held out his hand, waiting for her to take it, but she kept her fingers clenched together. It still stung thinking about his little girls’ bodies, lifeless and charred, and imaging the pain that they endured. He’d thought he would have all the time in the world with his princesses. Many more daddy/daughter dates, plays, tickle contests, and backyard games of hide-and-seek. Cache had held hope they would find the girls in time. He’d had faith then, and it failed him . . . and Adaline. She, however, never stopped believing. The only way he slept at night was knowing the bastard who took his girls had died too.
Cache gripped his neck.
“Talk to me,” he said.
Adaline sat in silence. She stared at the spot in front of her on the floor.
Cache put one hand on her knee and lifted her head with the other. Her eyes held emptiness and something else he hadn’t seen before. Not fear or sadness. They didn’t dance to life but were cold and dark. He used to be able to look right into her eyes and know exactly what she was thinking or feeling. She was always so easy to read, until now. He had no idea what went on in her head. That unsettled him. He covered his mouth with his hand, unaware of what to say or do.
“Mr. Rushner, can I have a minute?” Officer Abbott asked, peering at Adaline. “Mrs. Rushner? Can I get you a drink?”
She shook her head at him. “A drink? How strong of a drink will you get me?”
Officer Abbott winced at the comment.
“She’d like a Coke,” Cache said.
“I can speak for myself. Haven’t they done enough? Now they’re asking me if I could use a drink. What I could use is some support.” She leaned in toward Cache and whispered in his ear. “The girls are not dead.”
Cache tilted his head and whispered back. “Leave this alone. They’re gone, my love.” He went to embrace her, but she shoved past him and ran out of the police station.
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