Fuck.
Abbott placed the lid back on the bottle and put it under his seat. He snapped the bracelet around his wrist. Aspen never had a chance to give it to him herself, but it did reappear, just like he’d told her. It kept him grounded. He watched people walk up and down the sidewalk, wondering how shitty their lives were through the forced smiles.
Someone knocked on his window.
“Are you all right?” Lieutenant Stalk yelled through the closed glass.
Abbott got out of his car and pulled up his belt buckle. “Fine.”
Lieutenant Stalk narrowed his vision on him. “Have you slept at all?”
He scratched his cheek. “Some.”
The lieutenant patted him on the back. “Good man. Let’s get to it, then.”
Walking into the police station, he halted after opening the door. “Do you remember what happened to the necklace at the crime scene with my daughter? I would really like to get that back.”
“Again? You told me you were ready to come back to work. All I’ve seen so far is that my decision to bring you back wasn’t a valid choice.”
“It’s my daughter’s, that’s all I’m asking. I’ll get my shit together. Just…can I have it?”
“It’s a piece of a crime scene. You know I can’t do that.”
“Not even for a long-time friend? It’s important to me,” Abbott said, bending down to tie his shoe.
The lieutenant didn’t respond. He seemed calm but distracted. “Get to work, son.”
Abbott bunched his fist and nodded.
What was that?
He brushed his bald head and walked to his desk. Punching in a number on his phone, he brought it to his ear and bent down. “Mrs. Rushner? Yes, it’s Officer Abbott. I just have a few more routine questions I need to ask you. Could I swing by your home later this evening? No, tomorrow at 7:30 pm will work. Great. See you soon.”
He was going to get answers, no matter what it cost. Nothing else mattered at this point. Finding out the truth about what happened to the Rushner girls could solve his daughter’s case too.
Thirty-Four
Seth Duncan
Thursday, November 11th
Noon
Reporters stood out front of the Grand Capital Motel, waiting for someone to come outside. Seth thought using his break from work to catch a small nap seemed like a good idea, but he grew suspicious as he got closer to his room. His next-door neighbor came out just as he’d stepped inside his room.
“Mr. Rushner, do you have any comments about the new information about your wife?”
Mr. Rushner, new information.
Seth poked his head through the blinds to watch the man that the reporters called Mr. Rushner get swarmed by a hive of bees, ready to make a sting. He had no idea the man next door was Adaline’s husband.
They must be fighting with the media smothering them.
He heard the reporters yelling Mr. Rushner’s name repeatedly, the voices growing further away.
New information. What new information?
Seth turned the TV on Channel 5 for the noon news to static. He hit the TV a few times and fixed the antennas to be positioned in just the right spot. Once he could hear talking, he turned to the screen to be face-to-face with Sienna Rhoades giving the update.
“Almost four weeks ago, Eliza and Leora Rushner were kidnapped from their home in Owling, Utah. That’s caused many to wonder what could’ve possibly happened for those children to be the target of such a sinister act of violence against them. We’ve uncovered new information into the life of Adaline Rushner that may bring light to some very interesting questions.”
Seth smacked his head and sneered at the screen.
“As a child, Adaline Rushner had been admitted to a psychiatric ward for schizophrenia and massive anxiety. This took place a week after her parents’ tragic death when her aunt, who had graciously taken the young girl in, reported her being a danger to herself and others. Her aunt claimed Adaline made threats on her own life leading up to being admitted. Information about what hospital she was a patient at has been sealed at this time.
“We just got word from a source that two days ago there was a disturbance at the Rushner home, where Mrs. Rushner claimed that her dead girls were taken from the home. She’s clearly unstable and unwell. We should be asking ourselves—would she be capable of harming her kids and have the memory of doing so? And was Braxton Wheeler the killer, or was he set up? Turning it over to weather, Charlie.”
“Thank you, Sienna, for the update. And now…”
Seth sunk to the ground, glared at the ceiling, and entwined his fingers to say a prayer. He never prayed until he got placed into the box someone hid him in and had time to ponder what path he needed to take to make his sorry life a better one. For once in his life, he realized someone was on his side. Seth stood and put his sneakers on. Any minute now, Adaline’s store would be crawling with parasites trying to tear her down. Investigate her life so they wouldn’t have to focus on the misfortune of their own. The lady couldn’t get a break for the life of her. All this from her past on the news, the death of her girls, and her marriage seemed to be unraveling. He shook his head. Seth tied his long hair back with a rubber band and ran to her store as fast as his feet would allow.
He swung open the door. “Adaline.”
She appeared cheerful, with a tint of color on her cheeks. After the morning she’d had, fighting with her husband and an old friend at the store, seeing her more relaxed made him smile. And now he had to drain the color and energy from her again. She looked up at him inquisitively and peered at her clock. “You never call me Adaline,” she said. “Does that mean we’re friends?”
He nodded.
“You still have a twenty-minute break. Go eat. I can handle things here.”
Seth stepped toward her and opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to upset her. She had given him a chance, and she was his friend. The only one he had.
I can’t do this to her.
“Seth. Are you well? Eating helps me when I don’t have energy. Please go eat.”
He smiled and walked toward the door.
Coward. You coward.
Before he got to the door, two news vans pulled up to the front of the store. He locked the door, turned the door sign to closed, and knelt on the ground.
“Adaline,” he said, whispering. She turned to look at him and raised her eyebrows. He placed a finger on his mouth and pointed to the ground. He crawled toward her as she lowered her body to the floor, and before she could ask him anything, he placed his face against hers and whispered in her ear, “Do you trust me?”
She paused and gazed into his eyes. Adaline stared at him like she could see right through his soul and nodded. He gently grabbed her hand and they left through the back exit.
Outside, Adaline held his arm, forcing him to look at her. “What are we doing?”
“Your past is catching up to you, my friend.”
Thirty-Five
Cache Rushner
Thursday, November 11th
12:30 p.m.
After reporters hijacked him at his motel and arriving to work late, yet again, all eyes would be on him at his job. He needed his lunch break to clear his head. Grabbing a burger, he headed back to work. The parking garage filled quickly due to all the shopping malls sitting right next to Kirkmark Trading in downtown Salt Lake City. Cache could usually find a hidden spot on the first level, but not today.
Listening to the newest reports on the radio before he got into the parking garage confused him further about Adaline. They’d been married for eight years, and never once had she brought up spending time in a psychiatric ward, and she’d never shown signs of schizophrenia to him.
I don’t believe this. It’s not true. She would’ve told me.
On the fifth floor, one spot still sat open, so he swerved into it. He slammed on the brakes, stepped out of his car, and retrieved his briefcase. Cache walked into the
elevator and pressed the main floor button. The doors began to shut when he heard someone yell, “Hold the door.” He grabbed the small opening of the elevator door and let it open wide enough for the lady to get inside.
“Thank you, young man.”
“Miss Tisher? Did we have an appointment today?”
“Well, hello, Mr. Rushner. No appointment today, just meeting an old friend. How are you? Wait, don’t answer that. I watch the news,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.
“We’re fine. Just a bunch of lies.” He cleared his throat. “I got your message about setting up an account. Let me know when you’d like to do that, and I’ll be happy to help.”
She smirked. “Understood. Will you kindly push the main floor button?”
Cache responded to her request and watched as she fixed her curly red hair. He wondered if she was wearing a wig, as it went awfully wrong with her oval-shaped head. It looked similar to a poodle getting groomed at a newbie salon by a woman named Diamond, who loves her Aqua Net.
“So, are you enjoying your new home? I mean the inside, anyway. Those reporters live on your front lawn, I see,” she said.
“Yes. She loved it like you said she would. Thank you,” Cache said, bowing his head.
“Well, that’s what I do. I find perfect homes for perfect couples. So, do you know anyone else looking for a home?” She handed a small stack of business cards to him. “I’m leaving town soon and would love to get a few more deals in before I jet.”
He was shocked at her lack of professionalism. “Sorry. I don’t know of anyone, but I’ll be sure to put these cards out on my desk for you.”
She smiled. “Well, this is my stop. Be a dear and help an old lady with her heel.”
Cache glanced down at her shoe and bent over to place the blue heel back on her sweaty foot. Being around fifty hardly made her an old lady. She stepped out of the elevator and blew a kiss to him. “I truly do hope your wife isn’t crazy. You seem like a nice young man, and it would be a pity for you to get burned.”
He let her exit first, then followed behind her through the lobby. A man in a blue shirt looked up from the front desk. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Has the UPS truck come yet today? I’m waiting for a package. The name is Cache Rushner.”
“Sorry, sir. Nothing yet. Usually, they come around nine a.m. Try tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Cache said, tilting his head. He went back to the elevator and hit the fourth-floor button. He bounced and stared at his watch.
If I have a job tomorrow, it will be miraculous
The elevator door opened. A strong scent of roses still lingered, even after Miss Tisher left. He held his nose. Cache watched the numbers go up, and a red light dinged as the elevator jolted to a stop. He stepped out, bumping into a lady. Her purse fell to the floor. Cache bent down to help pick up the contents spread across the carpet.
“Really, young man, it’s okay.”
He had just heard that same voice in the elevator. Cache gazed up at her. “Miss Tisher?” The lady looked like her, but she had long blonde hair rather than her red, short poodle do. Her eyes widened and she ran down the hall before she retrieved the rest of her purse contents.
Was that Miss Tisher? Why was she wearing a wig and running off so fast?
He proceeded to pick up the rest of the stuff off the floor. Letting curiosity get the best of him, Cache grabbed at a loose paper in the corner by a baseboard and read it.
Jaxon,
If you do this last job for me, I’ll pay you well.
Cache wondered if that was why she hadn’t called him back to set up an account. She was already doing that with his boss.
Thirty-Six
Adaline Rushner
1:00 p.m.
She sat on the couch, feeling numb and confused by what Seth had just told her right before he dropped her off. Her feet curled beneath her.
It didn’t make sense. Psychiatric ward. Schizophrenia. How would she forget that? Or did it ever really happen?
Counting to five in her head, she rubbed her fingers together. Adaline stared at the TV on her mantel. She couldn’t bring herself to turn it on and watch what the media had to say, but the urge to see what repulsive lies they had up their sleeves stirred within her. She held her own hand and wished it was Cache’s instead to comfort her frozen body. She wrapped a fleece blanket around her shoulders and turned the volume up as Sienna Rhoades received feedback from citizens in the area.
“What do you think about Mrs. Rushner and the case regarding her daughters?” asked the reporter.
“I think they should take a closer look at what really happened with those girls and keep digging into that woman,” said a citizen.
“What about you?”
A short man in his fifties looked at the camera. “I feel she needs help. Get her the assistance she needs.”
The citizens’ comments went on and on.
“That woman’s hiding something.”
“Search her house.”
“Someone who’s crazy like her should’ve never had those kids to begin with.”
Adaline turned the TV off. She kicked her couch, creating a loud crack and pain shooting through her toe.
Great.
Adaline took off her clothes, went to the bathroom, and turned on the faucet. The water filled up the bathtub and she shivered, dipping her feet into the tub. The warmth of the water didn’t replace how cold she felt inside.
Icy.
Frozen.
She got in and scooted her body downward, letting her face submerge under the clear pool. Adaline watched it swirl above her for a minute and then closed her eyes. Her arms started to float, letting her mind relax.
“Drink this. You’ll like it.”
“What is it, Auntie?”
“It’s lemonade. Your favorite.”
Adaline brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. “This is horrible. I don’t want this.”
“It’s good for you. I put some medicine in there to help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to go to sleep. Please don’t make me drink this.”
“It will help you feel better, I promise. You want to feel better, don’t you?”
Adaline nodded her head and brought the cup back to her mouth, drinking until the last drop touched her tongue.
“Good job. Now come here and I’ll hold you until you fall asleep.”
Adaline smiled, lying on the couch next to her aunt. She brushed Adaline’s hair back and kissed her on the forehead. “Everything will be okay. I’ll be right back.”
“No. Don’t leave me,” said Adaline, reaching for her arm.
Her aunt turned around and grinned. “Child, I’ll be back.”
Adaline held her own hand and looked at the ceiling. Everything seemed fuzzy now, and her eyes felt heavy.
“I can’t do this anymore. Thank you for making the call,” her aunt said. “I’ll be ready when they come.” The click of the phone being placed back in the cradle told Adaline she was done with her call. “I’m back.” Her aunt came around the corner with a knife in her hand.
Adaline reached to hug her aunt, but she couldn’t move.
Her aunt smirked and brought the knife to her own arm, making a deep cut.
“No. Stop. I need you.” The words slurred off her tongue. Aunt Arlene wiped the blood on Adaline’s shirt and gave her the knife. She opened a pill bottle and let the capsules scatter around her.
“It’s too late for that, child. They’re coming for you. You’re someone else’s problem now.”
Her aunt began screaming for someone to help her. “Please don’t do this to yourself, Adaline. Please.”
A crash came through the house and two men grabbed her aunt and held her as she sobbed. “She’s done this before. I know she’s heartbroken over her parents, but I can’t lose her. Can you please help her?”
“What happened?” said a man.
“I found her taking some sleeping pill
s, and I tried to stop her. That’s when she came at me with the knife,” said her aunt.
One of the suited men looked at her and ushered two others in his direction. “Take her away.”
Adaline screamed in her mind as she felt herself being picked up.
Helpless.
Unmovable.
She stared at her aunt and saw her smile, lurking with deception. Hatred seeped into her eyes. Adaline held her gaze, making sure her aunt saw her in this form before the men carried her out of the house and took her away.
Adaline gasped and resurfaced from the tub, choking on water. She sat up, holding her shivering shoulders, and covered her mouth with her prune-wrinkled fingers.
My aunt framed me. Why? What else don’t I remember?
Wrapping the towel around her body, she got into bed and clung to her pillow. The sheets glided against her skin, and her toes started to warm up. A woman’s voice in her mind spoke to her in a calm tone, and then her face popped into Adaline’s head. She remembered Dr. Vi Lynchester.
Thirty-Seven
Owl Keeper
Thursday, November 11th
1:00 p.m.
Betrayal was a familiar look that Adaline plastered on her face. No matter where she went, that haunting glance followed her through the years, except there was a difference now.
Hatred.
To the blackest corner of her iris, he understood that look well. That used to be him, or maybe it still was. What other people saw in him.
Twenty-five years ago, he had that darkness inside him.
Sitting at the mall, watching families smile and laugh with not a care in the world, and he hated them for having something that he never had.
Love. Adoration. A place to call home.
He watched as they held hands and hugged each other, another feeling he hadn’t shared with anyone. No one hugged or thought of him. He had no family, no friends, just guilt that buried him alive every morning. Would anyone recognize if he was gone? No, no one. He hung his head and sat in silence, letting his thoughts tear him down until he felt ragged.
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