She can never know.
Forty-Eight
Officer Abbott
Friday, November 12th
9:00 a.m.
He didn’t want to believe that Sam could be involved with his daughter’s disappearance, but so many clues pointed in his direction. And what was with Sam’s dad telling Mrs. Rushner that her hair and eyes were like the sun and the moon? She appreciated it enough to find a whole painting that held meaning to her based on that one sentiment. And why did she shut down after she talked about flowers and being on the swings? There was something she didn’t want to talk about, and Sam and his family were right in the middle. Just looking at people made him feel like they should be wearing a guilty sign for all the mysterious secrets they hid. Trust wasn’t a luxury that was welcomed anymore, even by the system. Everyone had their own agenda. It was a dog-eat-dog world.
His head pounded, and his whole body ached. He longed to find out what happened to his daughter and put the bastard in jail who ended her life. The doorbell rang as he stepped inside Lost Treasures Antique Store and saw a man at the counter. He appeared to be in deep thought while staring at a piece of paper. Abbott strolled around the store and glanced at his watch.
Maybe she’s running late today.
“Excuse me. Is Mrs. Rushner coming in soon?”
The man didn’t take his eyes off the paper. “What makes you think she’s coming in?”
Abbott raised his eyebrows. The answer was rather odd, and he didn’t know exactly how to take it. “Well, the store’s open. I just assumed she’d be here. Do you know when she should be coming in, or not? I’d like to ask her some questions.”
The man finally looked up. “Why? Is she in trouble?”
“No. Why would you say that?”
“Nothing. Forget about it. Is there something I can help you with?” He fidgeted with his hands and bounced his knees up and down like a small child on a sugar high.
“Could I leave a note with you to give to her—?” Abbott asked.
“Seth.”
“Right. Seth, could you help me with that?”
Seth stopped bouncing his leg up and down and stared at him. “The police are still looking into her case? Why?”
“You sure seem interested in the case surrounding her. Would you like to tell me why?”
“Not really,” he said, in an irritated voice. “She’s a good person, and she could use a break.”
His voice sounded sincere and devoted. Every picture Abbott ever saw of Mrs. Rushner in the news usually had this guy not too far away, which made him wonder why he wanted to be so close. Being a nice person was one thing, but there was more there. He either had a thing for her, or maybe he truly meant well and wanted to protect her, but no one was that nice without having a motive of some sort.
What was his motive?
“I only do trades,” Seth said.
“Come again?” Abbott asked.
“I’ll give the note to her, and in exchange, you give me one of your business cards.” Seth smirked at him. “Just in case I think of anything that could help with Mrs. Rushner.”
What a smart ass.
“Sure.” Abbott opened his wallet to retrieve a card, and a picture of his wife and daughter fell onto the counter. The photo was two years old, but it was a perfect picture that captured their happiness exactly as it had been. They lived in an Abbott bubble where the world around them had its disasters and turmoil, but in their home, they had each other. Together, they could conquer the world.
“Officer? Your picture. Who’s in it?”
Abbott glanced at the picture. “It was my daughter and wife.”
“Your wife?” Seth asked.
“We’re separated right now. Why? Do you know her?”
Seth looked away. “If I see Mrs. Rushner, I’ll give her this note. Have a good day, officer.” He raced through what he was saying and paced the floor.
He knows something about my wife.
“You know, I might just stay here and wait for her,” Abbott said. “I don’t have much to do this afternoon. Maybe we could catch up on who you are.”
“S…sure. What bit of trivia can I enlighten you with about myself?” Seth asked, pulling back his hair.
His personality seemed to be morphing from calm and composed to extreme edginess.
“Why did you get so nervous once you saw my wife’s picture?”
“No reason.” He continued to pace and rub his fingers back and forth. “Mrs. Rushner’s really not coming for a while, and I have a lot of work to do.”
“So, you won’t tell me?” Abbott asked.
“He made me promise not to say anything.” Seth covered his mouth and peered at the ground.
“Who?”
His fingers moved back and forth again while he counted numbers out loud and scratched his head. “I’ve already said too much, officer. I’ll let Mrs. Rushner know you stopped by.”
Abbott watched him as he moved toward the back room and grabbed a box from the shelf. He must like her in some form. It showed by how gently he took care of her things and how protective he became when talking about her.
“I actually came here to warn Mrs. Rushner about people I believe are a danger to her.”
Seth dropped the box on the floor. “Who?”
“At this point, anyone that comes in this store could be here to harm her, including my wife.”
Picking up the box of items from the floor, Seth turned to look at him. “You think your wife could hurt her?”
Make something up.
Abbott cleared his throat. “Not my wife, but the people she’s with. I’m afraid she’s not in a good place.”
Seth coughed. “She seemed in a good place to me.”
He’d still hoped, even after their separation, that they’d get back together and rekindle things. Peyton said she needed time to recover from his alcohol addiction.
Abbott bunched his fist and clenched his jaw. “Tell me who she was with.”
“Let’s just say it’s someone you know.”
“Do you think Mrs. Rushner’s safety is a laughing matter? Tell me.”
“An older gentlemen,” Seth said.
“Lieutenant Stalk?”
The room turned quiet. Seth didn’t say anything, but that was an answer enough for him. Lieutenant Stalk had been there to help him through his daughter’s disappearance. He had no idea how helpful he’d been to his wife, also.
Abbott dug his nails deeper into his hand.
Lieutenant Stalk was the one that put him on leave for his alcohol addiction, which led to their separation. Was that just a play at a dirty game to get him out of the way? Many times, the lieutenant had been there for them. Abbott thought of him as a friend.
“Tell Mrs. Rushner I need to talk to her,” he said in a growl. He took his picture, tore it in half, and threw it in the garbage before he walked out the door.
Forty-Nine
Owl Keeper
9:30 a.m.
The morbid banner down the street had a “two for the price of one” deal on headstones. Where the hell was that thirty years ago when his sister and birth deliverer turned to ash?
He hated that his sister, Emery, shared a gravesite, side by side, with the woman who gave him life. His sister still couldn’t be free from the monster, and now she was trapped in the ground with her . . . forever. So many times, he wished he could start that day over again. He wanted to change her life and make it better, to get rid of the pain that devoured their inner happiness daily. Instead, he took their happiness and lit a match. Every day, he envisioned Emery’s face, her cry for help, and his lousy attempt at saving the one person who truly loved him. The burn mark behind his right ear was proof of his failed pursuit to liberate her.
The day he met Adaline, a feeling of hope returned deep in his soul, in a place he thought wouldn’t be opened again. They looked so much alike, his sister and Adaline, it was almost uncanny. It haunted him. Adaline saw something i
n him that he didn’t deserve. He only hurt and betrayed those he loved. That was just who he was. Some people were meant to be good and to make a difference in the world, but that wasn’t him. Only darkness lingered around him, and he welcomed it with open arms, embracing the dark core he was becoming.
Watching Adaline angered him—she lived her life in denial and pain. His sister would’ve lived hers differently. Adaline wasted it. She still was the same little girl from years ago, stuck in a past that wasn’t going anywhere good. He lit a match and watched the flame bounce side to side. He knew what he needed to do. It was time to show Adaline his true identity. Either she would be the hero or the victim, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the flame inside her would ignite or suffocate. He watched it flicker and create shadow images on the wall. The match danced to a wild beat, and it ended as a rush of air slashed its last breath.
Fifty
Adaline Rushner
Friday, November 12th
9:30 a.m.
Walking home, hand in hand with Cache after their therapy session, changed her perspective on her husband.
She wanted to let him in.
To try again.
Cache going to therapy with her and opening up enough to share his past secrets was new. A part of her stayed curious about what other things he hadn’t told her, but she also felt closer to him, knowing he had his own deep, dark secrets she now knew. Something about making each other’s secrets “theirs,” rather than holding on to them alone, was invigorating. Therapy seemed to be the key in helping both of them to wash their hands of the past and move forward. To face all the pain and anger . . . together.
Adaline held her heart as hope hugged her and filled her with warmth.
Hope was all she needed to keep going.
To heal their marriage.
To find their girls.
“Thank you for going with me,” she said, smiling.
He stepped in front of her and put his arms around her waist. “Please tell me this doesn’t change anything.”
“Not a thing. I admire you for your courage in there. It’s not easy sharing secrets you think someone you love might not accept.” Adaline brushed his face and looked into his concerned eyes. “I appreciate that you let me in.”
He kissed her and held her tight for a few minutes. It had been a while since they stole a kiss in public after the craziness of the past few months, but this reminded her of the early years when they were first married. He’d kiss the back of her neck or dance with her in the middle of the grocery store.
“How do you think this all connects?” Cache asked.
She shrugged.
He rubbed her shoulders. “You’re tougher than you think.”
“Thank you.” Adaline looked away from him and started walking again.
This is too good to be true. Something bad will happen.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“You went somewhere. Where did you go?”
“Nowhere. Not a place worth visiting again.” Adaline pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. “We should start looking for the girls.”
Cache halted and stared at her, bewildered. “Have you been taking your pills?”
“My pills?” Adaline asked. “Oh, I see, you still think I’m off my fucking rocker. Nice, I thought we had something here for a minute.”
“My timing was bad. I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I have a few calls to make, and then we can talk about what your thoughts are on the girls.”
Clearly, he still didn’t want to believe that they were alive, but she wouldn’t give up.
“Okay.”
They walked up the steps to their home, and Cache kissed her again before he went inside. Adaline sat on the porch and glanced up at the clouds, deciding how she would help him see where she was coming from. She desperately wanted them on the same brain wave, connecting on more than one level. Having his help to find the girls would change everything, but how could she show him a feeling in her gut? How could she explain this reason for betting everything on the girls still being alive?
“You’re not alone, Mommy. You have us . . . always.”
“I know, girls. You have me, too.”
Adaline glanced at her front yard, realizing that for the first time in a week, she was able to sit outside without fear of reporters attacking her. Grabbing her prescription bottle out of her purse, she held it in her hand. The pills made her tired, depressed, and nauseated. She hadn’t taken them for a while and had flushed her dose down the toilet each day.
Time to make choices for myself.
“I’m not crazy.” She unsealed the cap and poured the pills out on the ground, watching them roll in different directions. A newspaper boy threw a paper, and it hit her front door. Adaline turned around to grab it and saw a yellow piece of paper with her name on it hiding underneath her welcome mat. Opening the letter, a picture fell onto her lap. The photo was of a young boy, no older than nine, sitting in a blue car next to a cornfield, dated twenty-five years ago.
She peered at it closer.
A gate near the car said Arlingston.
Adaline gasped.
The boy was on her childhood property at the Manor. His face held such resemblance to Eliza, her daughter—they even had the same dimples.
Cache.
No, it can’t be.
Adaline shook as she read the bold words that screamed at her from a piece of floral stationery paper.
You’re not going to like what you find in therapy. Who’s going to die from their lies first? You or Cache?
Fifty-One
Sam Wendell
10:00 a.m.
A car horn honked. Standing up, he braced himself against a brick wall on the corner of the street. Sam called the only person he thought would help him, only to receive a threat instead. He glimpsed at the car, surprised to see Cache came after all. Sam limped two steps toward the car and grabbed the door handle with one hand, pulling as hard as his strength would allow. Nothing. Cache got out and opened the door for him.
Sam rolled his eyes.
Wonderful.
“Thank you, darling,” he said, grimacing.
“Cut the crap.” Cache grabbed him by the collar and shoved Sam against the car. “I’m not here to help you. You’re going to help me. Got it?”
Sam put his hands in the air. “Cool down, man. I thought I was having a bad day, but clearly, somehow yours is worse.”
“Be straight with me. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me the truth,” Cache said.
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Did you give Adaline the owl necklace?” Cache peered at him before he continued.
“No.”
“Then who was it?”
“Can’t tell you.”
Cache shoved him against the passenger door. “By the looks of it, you play dirty? What happened to your face?”
“Adaline has made enemies, it seems.”
“Because of you. We were fine until you came along,” he said, pointing at Sam.
Sam stared at him. “That’s not true, and you know it.”
Cache let go of his shirt. “Who then?”
Sam held his head. “I’m not sure, but Adaline’s in trouble. Where’s she now?”
“Gone.” Cache grunted and pounded his fist on the hood of the car.
“What do you mean gone?”
“She just left, and I need your help finding her. One minute we had a therapy session, and things seemed like they were moving in a good direction for us. We shared some past secrets. I went inside to make some calls while she sat on the porch, and the next thing I know, she took off in her car.”
“Why did you come to get me? You should be looking for your wife,” Sam said.
“I did, and when I couldn’t find her, I went to call you, but—”
“I was calling you.”
“Right,” Cache said. “Now, are you going to help me find my wife?”
Sam go
t in and buckled his seatbelt. “Drive. We need to find her quick, and I need to know what could’ve set her off.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, things seemed good.” He hesitated and shook his head. “I asked if she was taking her pills.”
Sam slapped his forehead. “How did she respond?”
“She was frustrated. Angry, maybe.”
“And you didn’t stay with her?”
Staring straight ahead of him, Cache appeared to be focused. “No. I figured she wanted space.”
“That’s the last thing she needs,” Sam said. “Was there something that seemed out of place?”
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Cache glanced at him. “Her pills were scattered all over the stairs.”
“Dammit.” Sam pulled out his phone and pressed a few buttons. “I got it. She’s heading north.”
“Wait a minute. You bugged my wife’s car?”
“She’s a runner, remember? I want her to be safe just like you do,” Sam said. “What did you talk about in therapy?”
“First, you’re a stalker, and second, are you for real? I’m not sharing anything with you.”
“Not even if it helps us find her?”
Cache paused. “All I know is that our past is connected in some way.”
“How?”
“Don’t you know?” Cache asked.
“I’ve been working with Dr. Lynchester to help get the truth out of Adaline. I only know what she’s been through.” Sam said. “I’m only invested in you because she’s your wife, other than that, you’re meaningless to me.”
Cache gasped and held his chest.
“Joke all you want, but your wife’s losing it. You can see it. I can see it. If she doesn’t get help and face her past, we’re going to all lose her…for good, this time.”
“You really do love her.” Cache moved in his seat. “How exactly do you think we’re going to lose her?”
Little Owl Page 20