She relented, allowing herself to be guided to first the edge of the forest and then into the trees. It wasn't a particularly dense forest, but the ground was soft, and it was considerably darker than in the field.
After a minute or two of walking, Georgina glanced around and realized that she could no longer see where they’d entered the wooded area.
Her chest tightened, but Melissa simply pulled her harder. After a sharp left around an oak tree, they arrived at a clearing.
"There," Melissa said, pointing at a large boulder in the center of the open space.
Georgina expected the girl to walk her over to the rock, maybe even help her on top of it, but she didn't. Instead, Melissa just pointed at it.
"Go on, take a look," she insisted.
Georgina took one hesitant step, then another. The moonlight followed her, seeming to get brighter the closer she got to the boulder. It was a large, gray stone, maybe two and a half feet in height and three times that in diameter. As she neared it, Georgina saw that it wasn’t smooth, but rough.
A couple more steps and she realized that there was some sort of writing all over one side. Not words, exactly, but letters. There were dozens of letters surrounded by tiny hearts scratched into the surface.
"What the heck is this?" Georgina whispered. She traced the outline of one of these hearts, and then brushed her finger on the A inside it.
"Annabel."
The word was only whispered in Georgina's ear, but she jumped nonetheless.
It was Melissa and she was holding something out to her.
"Annabel; that was Portia's mother's name."
A look of confusion crossed over Georgina's face.
"Her mom? But I thought Mama—"
Melissa hushed her and then placed a solid object into her hand, before curling her fingers closed.
"We've left them all here. This is our family now, Riley. Brian and Tim will look out for us in ways that others haven't. Sue-Ellen, Portia, and I are all your sisters now."
"But—"
Melissa hushed her again.
Georgina stared into the girl's eyes, looking for a lie hidden deep inside them. Something to tell her that this was just another trick.
Only they were clear; clear and honest. Predictable.
Reliable.
With gentle encouragement, Melissa guided Georgina's hand with the object inside of it towards a blank area on the rock.
"Go on," Melissa said. "It's okay. Leave them here and then join your sisters in our new life."
And then, before Georgina could say anything, Melissa ran back the way they’d come.
"Wait!" Georgina shouted. "Wait! I don't know how to get out of here!"
But Melissa was already gone; the only trace of her was a memory of her white dress trailing behind.
Breathing heavily again, Georgina looked back to the rock and slowly uncurled her fingers.
In her hand, Melissa had laid another stone, one with worn, flattened edges.
She immediately knew what it was for.
Sobbing now, Chase reached out and drew a small heart with the edge of the stone. She was only four, and her letters were not great, but inside she did her best to draw a K. She repeated this again, with a second heart and another K this time.
Georgina drew one final heart but hesitated before putting a letter inside it.
She squeezed her eyes closed, and at that moment, her sister’s face came to her.
Chase’s face, covered in mud and dirt and grime, as she sprinted by Georgina’s cell, their fingers just barely touching.
When Georgina opened her eyes again, she drew a C inside of the heart.
Then, with her empty hand, she extended her first two fingers and placed them on that letter.
She stayed this way for several seconds before dropping the stone, pulling her fingers away from the rock, and rising to her feet.
In the distance, Georgina heard the rumble of a car engine and then thought she perceived a set of headlights through the trees.
She stood beside the boulder with all the initials of their old family members for a moment, wondering what to do next.
The car was coming from the opposite direction that Melissa had run.
I can make it… if I run, I can make it.
The problem now was that she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Georgina took a huge breath, one so big that her crusty shirt poked uncomfortably into the soft skin beneath her chin.
Maybe… maybe it’s my time to wear one of those pretty, white dresses, Riley thought as she turned her head back to the oak tree. Maybe it’s my time to become part of the family.
Chapter 29
Keith slowed as he passed the hospital, but he didn't turn into the large circular drive. Nor did he head into the parking garage, either.
In the time it took to drive from his house to the hospital, the sun had started to set, and his mind began to clear.
He’d blamed Kerry for what had happened to Georgina. Hell, he’d even blamed Chase.
But as he continued past the hospital and made his way further away from downtown Franklin, he realized that neither of them was to blame.
And as he drove down a long winding road with trees on either side that inched in closer with every mile, it became clear who really was at fault.
Keith crested a small hill and then turned it sideways and put the car into park. The road was gone now, his tires resting on the sunburned grass.
He let the car idle for a second as his eyes moved from the gun on the passenger seat, to a small bungalow in the distance.
Keith rolled down the window and breathed in the fresh air. The sun was completely gone now, replaced by a blanket of stars and a beacon of a moon.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why did this happen to me… to us?"
He barely noticed that he was squeezing the cross around his neck again. But when he felt the wood bite into his palm, he was suddenly overcome by disgust.
Keith yanked on the cross, snapping the rubber cord that wrapped around the back of his neck. Then he held it in his hand for a moment, before swearing loudly and tossing it out the window.
Grinding his teeth against the fury he felt building inside of him again, Keith reached over and picked up his gun. After he unclenched his jaw, he placed the barrel in his mouth.
Kerry wasn't to blame. Chase wasn't to blame. God wasn't even to blame.
It was his fault.
After all, a father's role was to protect. A mother's role, on the other hand, was to nurture, to soothe, to console.
But a father was supposed to make sure that nothing horrible happened to his little girls.
And Keith Adams had failed terribly in that respect.
"I'm sorry," he tried to say, but his teeth clacked against the metal barrel. "I'm so sorry."
Then, as his finger tightened on the trigger, Keith Adams squeezed his eyes closed.
A split second before he pulled the trigger, Chase's face flashed behind his closed lids.
This time, however, Keith didn’t see his daughter with a mouthguard in and probes pressed against her temples. Now, he saw Chase as she was the time when she’d fallen off her bike and scraped her knee. She’d looked up at him then, her eyes full of tears. His initial instinct was to hold her, to kiss her, maybe even rub away the dot of blood on her skin. But he fought that urge.
Instead, he repeated the refrain that he would say many times over their years together.
"If you are going to ride a bike, you are going to fall. It’s like anything else, Chase. It’s not about how good you are at something when you first try it, it’s about how good you are when you are finished."
Even though she'd been three and a half at the time, there was an understanding in her eyes that defied her years.
Only then had Keith hugged his daughter and kissed her and wiped her blood away.
With a heavy sigh, he pulled the gun from between his lips and stared at it. Disgusted with himsel
f, he threw it on the passenger seat and then opened his door.
As he searched the grass for his cross, he thought about how his daughter needed him now.
In the distance, Keith thought he heard someone shout. He looked up and concentrated, waiting for it to return.
It had sounded uncannily like Georgina’s voice.
But when it didn’t recur, and his searching hand bumped into something on the grass, he shook his head.
I’m not finished, he thought as his hand closed around the wooden cross. I won’t give up on you, Chase.
Keith opened his hand and stared at the cross that was illuminated by an unobstructed beam of moonlight.
And I won't give up on you either. Not yet.
Epilogue
PRESENT DAY
The cell phone buzzed once, twice, and the third time it vibrated up against a half-empty bottle of scotch.
The man in the chair shook himself awake.
Clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he scrambled for his phone.
Eventually, his chubby fingers grabbed it and he looked at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number and considered just letting it ring out.
Except it was late and he rarely received calls on his cell phone at all anymore.
The man clicked the answer button and brought the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he croaked.
There was a short pause before a male voice answered.
"Keith Adams?"
Keith couldn't answer. He recognized the voice now and his heart, a heart that had four veins that were nearly completely occluded by plaque, slowed as it squeezed blood through thickened arteries.
"Keith, it's Luke Rainsford; Detective Luke Rainsford. I don't know if you remember me, but I promised you long ago that if I ever heard about what happened to your daughters, I would call you."
When Detective Rainsford finished his story, a single tear spilled down Keith's cheek. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and took a swig. It didn't burn, even though it was only a half-step up from firewater; it barely even warmed his esophagus.
"Keith? You still there?"
"Thank you, Detective. Thank you for calling," he said then hung up before the detective could reply.
In a daze, the man struggled to rise and then shuffled to the bedroom.
As his hand searched the upper shelf of the closet for the black case, he felt as if he were in a dream.
Or a memory.
The man sat on the edge of the bed and removed the pistol from the case and loaded the clip.
"Honey? What are you doing?" a female voice asked.
Keith glanced over his shoulder.
Kerry Adams was propped up on her elbows, staring at him.
Keith opened his mouth to speak, but when Kerry tilted her head to one side and stared at him blankly, he changed his mind.
It wasn't fair to tell Kerry about what the detective had said. It wasn't fair, because most days, the woman could barely remember her own name let alone the name of a child she hadn't seen for more than thirty years.
"Nothing," he said. He tucked the gun into his waistband and leaned over and kissed his wife on the forehead.
"Where you going?" she asked.
"Just for a drive, sweetheart. Close your eyes and get some rest."
Kerry offered him a goofy smile and then lowered her head onto the pillow.
Keith went to the door and turned back to look at his wife for a final moment before leaving the room.
She was already asleep.
On the way to his car, Keith tore the wooden cross off his neck and threw it into the lawn. This time, he didn't pick it up.
***
Riley Jalston squeezed her daughter's hand and pulled her close.
"Come on, Georgina, we have to hurry," she hissed.
In the distance, she could hear people shouting.
The police were coming after them.
“I'm tired. Where are we going? And who are all those people?”
Riley didn't answer, she just pulled harder. She was practically dragging her daughter now, but she didn't care. She wouldn't let them take either of them.
They might have gotten her family, but she still had Georgina.
Riley made a hard left around a thick birch tree, and then scooped her daughter up just as the girl’s tiny legs let go. Georgina cried out, but Riley hushed her.
When they arrived at the clearing, her daughter spoke up.
"What’s that?" she asked, extending a finger.
Riley stared at the boulder.
"Its somewhere I come to think sometimes," she said absently. As she neared the rock, she saw that there were some markings on the side that she couldn’t remember being there before.
Someone had drawn a bunch of hearts and written letters inside of them.
"What the hell?" she muttered, setting her daughter down. She leaned in closer to get a better look and just as her eyes started to focus on a heart with a C inside it, she heard a shout near the boundary of the woods.
Riley stood bolt upright and grabbed her daughter by the hand again. There was no time to think, not now.
But as she dragged her daughter deeper into the woods, she looked back one final time.
She thought she saw somebody sitting on the boulder, but knew that this wasn’t the case, that this was just an illusion.
It was a girl with short, dark hair, a younger version of the crazy woman who’d claimed she was Riley’s sister. The same person who had taken her family from her. The one who'd killed Tim, and had forced Melissa, Portia, and Sue-Ellen to shelter Brian.
"One day I’ll come for you and yours, Chase," she said quietly. "One day, Chase Adams, I'm going to come for your family, as you’ve come for mine.”
END
Author’s Note
Never underestimate the power of family… especially when it’s all you know.
My goal in writing this 0.5 novella was two-fold. First, I wanted to show the power and influence of family and how sometimes the right intentions sometimes aren’t enough. Sometimes, you need the right tools and sometimes plain old luck plays a major role. Second, I wanted to show the parallels between Chase and her sister. They were both brainwashed but for drastically different reasons and using completely different methods. I’ll leave it up to you to decide who was/is better off in the end. To some degree, poor Keith Adams was also brainwashed; brainwashed into thinking that everyone was responsible for what happened to his daughters, even himself—especially himself—despite the fact that none of them were at fault.
Finally, I wanted to touch on the devastating effects of guilt, remorse, and accusations, and how they can mess with your head. Plus, there was that very important scene in the Epilogue featuring Georgina—or should I say, Riley—which will play a role in future books.
So, what next for Chase? Well, she’s back in Dirty Money, which is out now. But the only way that you can get it is if you write a glowing 5* review for each of the earlier books in the series (including this one).
That’s a joke. But still, leave a review.
??Please ??.
You keep reading and I’ll keep writing.
Pat
Montreal 2018
And now for a sneak peek at book 5 in the Chase Adams FBI Thriller Series, DIRTY MONEY…
Dirty Money
A Chase Adams FBI Thriller
Book 5
Patrick Logan
Prologue
PRESENT DAY
“Look at this asshole,” Senator Tom DeBrusk said, his eyes locked on the giant billboard overhanging Massachusetts Avenue. “Fucking hell… goddamn talking head… how do you think this douchebag William Woodley can afford a sign like this?”
“I don’t know sir,” the driver answered.
“Well, I know. Fifteen trillion dollars in debt and you’re putting your faith in the government to run our businesses? Well, part of that debt is from financing your sign, you TMZ wannabe.”
>
The billboard containing William Woodley’s giant, hairless face, threatened to sour Tom’s mood, but he wouldn’t let it. Besides the fact that it was probably designed just to piss him off, today was a good day. A great day.
And nothing would change that.
"Pullover," he instructed. When the driver didn't immediately do as he asked, he leaned forward and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Simon, pull over here, please."
"Excuse me, sir?"
Tom turned his attention to the window and leveled a finger at the Dunkin' Donuts that they were just passing.
"Need a coffee. Can’t stand the sludge they pass off as coffee in the Capitol. Shit, the president’s taste in coffee is almost as bad as his taste in ties.”
"Sir, the vote on the Senate floor is scheduled in less than an hour," Simon said, but even as he spoke, he pulled the black Lincoln over to the side of the road.
"They’ll wait. Trust me on this one, they’ll wait. This is my moment of glory, Simon. I’m going to enjoy this."
“Yes, sir,” Simon said, reaching for his door. "One cream, one sugar?" he
Tom shook his head.
"Sit tight, I'll get it," Tom said, “You want anything?”
Simon shook his head.
“No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Tom knew that Simon wanted to get him his coffee, but this was his day. He was gonna get some sun on his face, maybe even grab a cruller to go with his coffee. A honey cruller.
As he tucked the dark blue binder under his arm and stepped from the car, he wondered if there were any other types of crullers.
Chocolate cruller? Powder cruller? Jam cruller?
That would be good… a cruller filled with jam.
He was so lost in thought, considering different types of crullers, that he nearly tripped over a woman pushing a stroller.
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