Little Owl

by Lauri Schoenfeld

  Blonde hair flowed behind a white nightgown.

  Adaline.

  She ran in bare feet away from something, or someone. He wanted to call out to her, but he watched as she dashed up the front steps to her home. Turning to leave, screaming echoed through the night sky. Adaline was in trouble. Running toward her took too long. Looking up, he lost his balance and hit his head on a large rock. When he came to, horror crept inside him. The Owl Keeper stood next to Adaline. Black residue stained her dress, and a box of matches was clutched in her hand.

  What have you done?

  Ashes and debris flew through the air, and bloodcurdling screams pierced the night sky. The smell of charcoal impaired his stomach, and he covered his nose and mouth, watching her home go up in flames.

  Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he put one in the ignition and hesitated. Leaving didn’t feel right, but neither did sitting while she was in danger.

  Dammit.

  He started the engine and drove a few miles, until he came to an alley, and parked his car. Who would have a motive to take the Rushner girls and harass Adaline? All of the people that came to mind were dead or locked away.

  Sam didn’t have children but hated the thought that someone he loved had lost the most precious things in the world to her and knew they were tortured before they’d died. Sick and wrong.

  He covered his mouth. The more he thought about Adaline, and the pain she must be feeling, a lump formed, like a piece of bubble wrap trapped in his throat. Plastic popping one by one, suffocating his air supply. He remembered reading that the bodies had fourth-degree burns, and facial recognition was completely obliterated.

  Do we know that these bodies are the girls?

  He felt a hunch rolling in.

  Who signed off on the coroner’s reports?

  Sam took out his notepad and wrote the question in bold letters, determined to find the answer. He had to start piecing things together about Adaline again and uncover the truth of what really happened the night her parents died. If the wrong hands got a hold of that information, who knew what they’d do with it.

  He started the engine again and turned to place his notepad on the passenger seat. A loud crash sprung him forward and glass exploded on his seat. A figure wearing all black and a ski mask jumped in his car and elbowed him in the bridge of the nose. Blood dripped down his shirt. He put his car in gear and pressed his foot on the pedal. The passenger seat door swung open, and the person shifted, holding on to the seat. Sam swerved the car into a trash can while the figure in the ski mask continued to take punches at his face. He pressed down harder on the gas. Grunting came from the other seat. Sam spun the steering wheel, and the car spiraled out of control. Sam socked the masked figure in the Adam’s apple, and the man let go, free-falling out the door before the car crashed into a phone pole.

  The windshield fell on top of Sam, and he tried to move his head from the steering wheel, but it felt heavy. His vision blurred, and his ears rang loudly. The man lay in the street. Sam scooted out of the car and limped toward him as headlights glared on his face, distorting his eyesight. He covered his eyes with his arm and continued to move in the same direction, until an engine purred nearby. Letting go of his face, Sam stared at the empty ground. The man was gone. He surveyed the area and caught the man’s body being dragged by two masked figures, loading him into a minivan. They shut the door and revved away before Sam could even muster movement. He took a mental note of the license plate as it sped down the street.

  Forty-Seven

  Cache Rushner

  8:30 a.m.

  Dr. Lynchester welcomed them both in with a smile and hugged Adaline tight, as you would a close friend. Cache stepped backward, hesitant to walk in, but he wanted and needed to help his wife. The office held a rustic, cozy feel, which seemed out of place for the woman standing in front of him. Her short blonde hair, slender body, and demeanor set a tone for an office with yellow curtains and lace blue walls—dainty and feminine, but sophisticated. She appeared to be in her late fifties.

  Holding her hand out, she glanced at him with gentle eyes and held his gaze in a way that made him feel like they’d already met. Like she knew him.

  He shook her hand and looked away quickly. “Hello, Cache. Thank you for coming. Can I take your coats for you?”

  Adaline nodded and proceeded to hand her coat to the doctor.

  “No. I’m fine,” Cache said.

  Dr. Lynchester nodded and moved to a closet near the back of the room, around a corner. She opened the door and closed it lightly. “Please have a seat next to your wife.” She stepped in front of them and pulled out her thin glasses, placing them on her nose.

  “Thank you.” He sat down next to Adaline and held her hand.

  Adaline peered at him, and then at Dr. Lynchester, then back at him again. Looking down, she squeezed his hand for a minute, let go, and spoke under her breath.

  Cache put his arm around her shoulder and tried to hold her hand again, only to have her shrug and pick at her fingernails. “What’s the matter? Do you want to go?” he asked in a whisper.

  She didn’t respond.

  “It’s good to see you, Adaline. How are you feeling after our last session?”

  Adaline glanced up. “I want to know the truth, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  “That’s a good start,” Dr. Lynchester said.

  Cache couldn’t help but notice how calm the doctor seemed when she talked. Steady, mellow voice, but her shaky legs showed otherwise.

  Was she nervous about what Adaline said, or something else?

  “I guess so,” Adaline said. “Bits and pieces are starting to come together, but not all at once. My memories come at random, unknown times. They just hit me.”

  “Those are your triggers.”

  “Right, my repressed memories.” Adaline hesitated. “Cache was confused about how this happens.”

  Dr. Lynchester looked at him and pulled her glasses off her nose. “Your wife’s been through a great deal. Triggers are things that link someone to their past. You lock memories deep in your mind that you don’t want to remember, ones that are too painful to face. People do it without even realizing that they’re doing this. Over time, an object, person, or place links to that memory and tries to connect it, like a puzzle piece, only you have fifteen puzzles that need to be connected. It’s not sure which one it belongs to. Trying to find its place is when you begin to unleash those hidden, or rather suppressed, memories.”

  “Like when I saw the TV with reports of the psych ward. It brought something to the surface.” Adaline squeezed her hands together.

  “Right.”

  “So, this is a common thing that happens?” Cache asked.

  “More common than I would like to admit. The things children and people are dealing with just keeps getting worse.” Dr. Lynchester put her glasses back on. “One person can only handle so much violence and rage before their mind takes over. They either embrace the violence or fight back. Think of serial killers and abusers. They embrace the violence and continue expressing it in their own way. Some even believe it’s a true art form because it’s a form of expression.”

  “And what happens when you fight back?” Cache asked.

  “If you conquer the problem head-on, it goes away.”

  “What if you couldn’t solve the problem?”

  “A lot of times, that’s when PTSD comes into play. You’re trying to cope with a horrific problem without a solution,” Dr. Lynchester said.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re saying that Adaline’s problems would go away if she talked to her mother? That’s not possible now. So, how can we find another solution?”

  Dr. Lynchester squirmed in her chair. “The solution is inside her. It’s an inner battle that she’s fighting. One where she needs to see what really happened.”

  “But she knows what happened.” Cache put his hand on Adaline’s knee and glanced at her.

  “No, she doesn�
��t. This is where I’ve tried to help in the past, and it hasn’t worked. Like we talked about.”

  Adaline grabbed her purse and stood up. “You’ve been working together against me. I knew it.” She turned around. “Dr. Lynchester, you lied to me. I’m surrounded by a bunch of liars. No wonder I lash out and people get hurt.” She glanced at both of them a few times and sneered. “Stay out of my way.”

  Dr. Lynchester leaped from the chair and gripped her shoulders. “Don’t do this again.” She held Adaline’s face in her hands. “Look at me. Your husband and I just talked yesterday. We’re trying to help you.” She caressed her cheek. “I’m helping you both, Daisy.”

  Who’s Daisy? Cache shook his head. He didn’t know that name, but it was obvious both of the ladies did.

  Adaline jolted backward. “How are you helping us?”

  “Both of you need to see who you are inside—not how the world views you, but what defines your character—and love that person, not hide from it.” Dr. Lynchester paused. “Please, come sit back down.”

  “Is it true? You just talked to her yesterday, Cache?”

  He nodded his head. “I’ve never met this woman in my life. I only called to make sure she had your best interest at heart. That’s the only reason why we’re here.”

  She stepped back to the couch and sat down. Placing her hand on her lap, Adaline gradually moved it into his.

  “Let’s move on, then.” Dr. Lynchester sat in her chair across from them and pressed the bridge of her nose before she began. “How are things going with you as a couple?”

  Cache cleared his throat and squeezed Adaline’s hand. “I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you.”

  Adaline nudged him. “We’ve had a struggle with things. Trust issues mainly, but we’re working on it.”

  Dr. Lynchester scribbled on her paper and crossed her legs.

  “Cache, would you care to explain what kind of things you’ve been struggling with?”

  He scratched his chin and sat up in his seat. “Honestly, I don’t know if I want to answer. I don’t know you, and it’s feeling a tad warm in here,” he said, undoing his top button on his collar.

  “Fair enough.” Dr. Lynchester put her pen down and stood up, walking behind her chair to retrieve something from her desk. She locked her drawer and sat back down in her seat, looking at both of them intensely. “I know you don’t know me, but I know you and Adaline, and I need you to trust me.”

  “This is completely unprofessional. How can I trust you? I don’t even know you.” Cache stood. “Let’s go, Addi.”

  “Please, sit down. She said she wants to help,” Adaline said. “Don’t take that from me. I need to figure out if she can.”

  Cache clung to his coat and strangled it in his hands. “Of course, sweetheart.” He grabbed her hand, sat down next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder.

  “I understand that after what you went through as a kid, trust is still hard for you. I can appreciate that,” Dr. Lynchester said in a steady tone.

  His neck stiffened, and he sat on the edge of the couch. “We’re not talking about this.”

  “I know a lot of things about you both.”

  Adaline turned toward him. “What do you mean as a kid? I thought you said you had a great childhood?”

  Cache glared at the ground and hunched over. “I lied to you.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “I…lied to you.”

  “Why?” Adaline asked.

  “Because I didn’t want you to know that part of me. I wanted you to see me for the man I’m trying to become.”

  After getting out of juvenile detention, he promised himself he would change his ways and make his life better. Stealing to get out of poverty became sport, but also his way to survive at any cost. Going from one foster home to another wasn’t living for him, and he wanted more for his life. At eighteen, he thought he finally got out until he was approached to do one last job. He never prepared himself to fall in love instead.

  Was the failed gig catching up to him? Was someone after him, and not Adaline?

  “Tell me,” Adaline said, pleading.

  “I grew up poor, and my parents were con artists.” He paused. “They had done it for a while, and then one day they got caught.”

  “I thought you told me they died in a car accident.” Adaline’s eyes were wide, and she sat away from him.

  She’s never going to see me as the same man.

  “They were in a fire when I was nine.”

  “And they’re alive?” Adaline asked.

  “No. They died,” he said, looking away. “They were good people, you know, they just chose to make the wrong decisions, and they paid for them.”

  Dr. Lynchester sat quietly, letting them talk things out while she seemed to be overly pleased with the conversation. “Keep going, Cache. You’re doing well.”

  Adaline sat closer to him now and nodded her head in agreement, clinging to his arm.

  “I got an older couple killed on the night my parents died.”

  “What happened that night?” Adaline asked.

  “I went with my parents on their run. Our hit was this massive house in some town. I never paid attention to what cities or places we’d been to because I knew I wouldn’t be there for long anyway. But my parents talked about how we’d score big, stepping inside this home. Anything in there would make us richer,” he said. “They told me to stay in the car and wait. We parked two miles away so I wasn’t in sight. My mom hugged me and let me know that they’d yell the word “Catchum” as a cue to start the car. Then they left.” Cache cleared his throat. “That was their word for every run they did. I waited and did what I was told, until I heard screaming, a high pitch screech. I never heard the keyword, but I knew my mother was in trouble.”

  Adaline placed her hand tightly on his. “What did you do?”

  Cache held his head. “I started the car but got out and ran toward the screaming. It was my mama. I knew it, but they weren’t coming. Everything in me wanted to yell back to her to confirm she was there.” He wiped at his face. “I heard a loud bang that sounded like an explosion or a gunshot. Someone grabbed me and yelled for me to go home. They said I wasn’t safe where I was and told me to not look back, that my parents would be there soon.”

  He hesitated and glanced at Adaline, who seemed immersed in what he was saying.

  She responded and brushed his cheek. “Who grabbed you?”

  “A woman, but I couldn’t see her face. It was dark,” Cache said. “I ran as fast as I could and didn’t look back.”

  Adaline covered her mouth and gasped. “Your parents?”

  “They never came back.”

  “No.” Adaline clasped her hands together and swayed back and forth.

  “How did that make you feel?” Dr. Lynchester asked.

  “Scared and worried, but I mostly felt guilt for leaving them. I should’ve stayed to help.”

  “Do you still feel guilty?”

  “Every day,” he said.

  “Tell me about the old couple?” Dr. Lynchester asked.

  Cache shook his head. “Isn’t that enough for today?”

  Adaline rubbed his back.

  He envisioned this day a whole lot different in his head. She gave him a sense of wanting to open up and share the darkness he’d experienced, without concern that it would turn her away from him. Cache squeezed her hand and continued.

  “I ran home to find that the fridge was empty, and I was scared and hungry. I went to a house nearby, and the older couple graciously took me in to have a nice meal and get changed into some old clothes that were too big on me.” He grinned at the memory of drowning in a man’s old clothing. It felt nice, warm, and smelled of soap, a scent that was foreign to him. He loved it. “A door shut outside, so they went to go look and see if it was my parents.” Cache squinted, held his breath, and punched his leg a few times.

  “Take a minute before you go on.” Dr. Lynchest
er clasped her hands together and looked deep in thought.

  “They died because of me. Someone was looking for me, and I killed them for being selfish. I should’ve stayed home like I was told.”

  “Did the men chase you?” Dr. Lynchester asked.

  “Yes, but I lost them.”

  “How?”

  “I went out the back door and ran for a while. I don’t know how long,” Cache said.

  Dr. Lynchester gripped her hands together. “Where did you end up?”

  Cache let go of Adaline’s hand and clenched his fist. “I hid in a tractor, and the next day I was sent to foster care.”

  “That’s it?”

  He peered at Dr. Lynchester. “That’s it.”

  Adaline held his leg. “You didn’t kill those people. The last thing they did before they died was help someone in need. They invited you in, remember.”

  Cache tried to smile, but instead, he looked around the room. “Now tell me how this is supposed to help Adaline?”

  Dr. Lynchester stared at Adaline like she was reading her soul. It was unsettling, and yet Cache was intrigued to figure out what she possibly could be thinking or doing.

  “When he told his story, did you feel anything?”

  Adaline’s face dropped and she turned red. “Now, Dr. Lynchester, that seems quite inappropriate to ask. Of course I felt something. My husband was hurting while telling us about his past, and I wanted to fix it. Make it go away.”

  “Dig deeper.”

  Cache raised his eyebrow and shook his head.

  How did any of this connect? She lived in Owling. Her mother was abusive. Parents died at age eight. Went to live with aunt who didn’t want her. What does this have to do with my past?

  Ten years ago, when his last job was to kill a young lady who had plans to assassinate a young boy’s family, he reacted instantly and accepted the assignment. No one should be left without parents like he was. Until he saw her—the girl, the vicious killer. He looked at her and saw himself. Someone bruised and alone, but not afraid to be so. Adaline.