by T K Eldridge
“You’ll attend Wellesley and major in business or political science.” Corinne stood there, hands on hips, glare firmly in place.
“Not interested.” Emlen replied, smirking beneath the fall of her hair as she finished packing her bag.
“I don’t care if you’re ‘interested’,” Corinne sneered. “You’ll do as you’re told.”
“Right, because that’s worked so well for me in the past. No, Auntie. I’m going to Harvard and majoring in Journalism. I’ve already enrolled, and I’ll be starting in the fall.” Shouldering her bag, she tugged the handle of her suitcase and started it rolling as she started for the door.
“I see. Well, I hope you don’t expect us to pay for your decision,” Corinne said, ice in her tone.
“Of course not. Why would you? Doesn’t matter. I got a scholarship and I have a job, so I can manage.”
“And where are you going right now?” Her aunt only just now seemed to notice that Emlen was packed more than a weekend would require.
“Moving in with my roommates. We got an off-campus place that four of us are sharing. I’m eighteen now, so you’re not responsible for me any longer. I’m sure that will be a relief.”
“Your uncle and I did not approve of this. I forbid it.” Corinne folded her arms under her breasts and glared at Emlen.
“Go ahead and forbid it all you want, Auntie. Not your call anymore. Thanks for nothing,” Emlen replied and headed out the door, letting the suitcase thump down the stairs behind her just to irritate her ice bitch aunt, her grin growing as she stepped outside and took a breath of air. Freedom was a heady thing.
The sound of Cullen’s truck pulling up on the gravel tugged Emlen from her memories. She got to her feet, still grinning at the memory, a hint of challenge in her step as she headed towards the passenger’s door. “Nice to see you, Cullen. Appreciate your help with this,” she said as she slid into the truck and dropped her bag at her feet.
“Happy to help,” Cullen said, glancing over at her as she snapped her seatbelt. “You look like someone pissed in your cereal this morning. What’s up?”
“Nothing, really. Just remembering a time when I kicked ass.” Emlen said as she gave him a sidelong look. “Seriously, I’m good. Let’s go see if the old sheriff has any new leads for us, shall we?”
“When I called, he said he’d have his box of files out for us to go over, too. Maybe there’s something in there that we’ve not seen before. Honestly, he’s going to be our best option.”
“I just hope he’s still sharp. I can’t tell you how many retired people I’ve interviewed that I ended up spending weeks researching their intel to find out they didn’t have a clue as to what they were remembering.”
Cullen slowed the truck and stared at her for a moment before his gaze went back to the road. “Uncle Joel is as sharp as they come. His reaction time slowed down a bit and he didn’t want to be too slow on the trigger and cost someone their life - or cost him his own - just because age had settled in.” His tone icy, he gripped the steering wheel, glaring at the road.
“Uncle Joel?” Emlen smirked and shook her head. “Relax, Cullen. I wasn’t actually insulting the guy. I’ve never met him, remember? Just stating how things usually play out.”
“Pretty negative way to look at things, don’tcha think? And you have met him before, you just don’t remember.”
“Why is it negative when it’s based on fact?”
“Have you ever heard of the “it’s all in the mindset” approach? If you go into it, expecting negative results, you’ll get negative results - but if you go into it expecting positive, you get positive?” Cullen asked, turning on to the gravel road that led towards Desantis’ cottage.
“Yeah, isn’t there a fortune cookie quote about that?” she snarked back and turned to look out the window. “I’m more along the lines of Bruce Lee, when he said, “I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not here to live up to mine.” And I’m probably paraphrasing it, but that’s pretty close.”
Stopping the truck, Cullen pulled the key as he gave her a brief look before starting to get out of the car. “Good thing I don’t have any expectations then.”
“That makes one of us,” Emlen said as she shouldered her bag and slammed the truck door shut. Her tone calmly conversational, she added “You fuck this up for me and it’ll be the last thing we ever do together.” She had been enjoying his company, but the idea of sharing the investigation at all made her want to choke. The rollercoaster of her own emotions made her dizzy.
“Hey there!” Joel called out from the side deck of the house, waving at them as they walked up towards him. “Perfect day for enjoying the view, eh?”
“Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.” Emlen replied, stepping up to the deck and offering a hand to shake. “I really appreciate it.”
“Anything for the O’Brien boys, Joel replied, shaking her hand. “And I am really glad to see you’re doing so well, Emlen Brewster. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. Cullen explained it all to me and I understand.”
Cullen walked up and moved to give Joel a brief hug and a back slap. “Looking good, Uncle Joel. How’s the fishing been?”
The two men laughed as they led the way into the house, Emlen trailing behind and taking a moment to enjoy the view of the mouth of the cove and the open sea beyond. “Bet this is an impressive view in a storm,” she said as she paused before stepping inside.
“It really is. Nothing better than a hot cup of coffee, a fire in the woodstove and the power of nature dancing outside my window,” Joel answered, gesturing to seats around a table set before one of the many wide windows. A carafe of coffee sat on the table with a cluster of mugs, spoons stuck into another mug and a plate of cookies. A box resting on a chair drew Emlen’s interest. Seeing her stare, Joel nodded. “Yeah, that’s one box of my notes on this case. The other two are on the floor by the door, but this one has more of what I think you want to talk about.”
The three of them sat, and Joel poured them coffee before he folded his hands around the mug and looked up at Emlen. Silent for a moment, he searched her face, then gave her a small smile. “I still see you in my mind, that little bit of a thing, wrapped up in a towel, sitting on Jaime’s truck seat, bottle of water clutched in your hands.” He shook his head and took a sip of the coffee. “What your family did still pisses me off, but I’m glad to see you’re successful and healthy and all that. I just wish you hadn’t come back to town.”
“Wait, what? What are you saying that for, Uncle Joel?” Cullen blurted. “You trying to scare her off or something?”
Emlen leaned back, sipping her own coffee and watching the two, letting the dynamics play out in front of her as she listened and learned. A feeling twinged at the back of her mind and she focused on Joel for a few moments before letting out a soft breath.
“Easy, Cull. I just mean, it’s not safe for her, being back here. Whoever killed her mom, searched the house for her, too.” Joel reached into the box, pulling out a worn folder and laying it on the table. One hand rested on top of it as he spoke. “Cull told me that you’d already seen the official report, so I won’t insult you by warning you about what’s in here - but I am going to ask for my own peace of mind - are you sure you want to see this?”
Emlen reached out, resting one hand on top of Joel’s on the folder. “I appreciate your consideration, sir. I truly do - but I need to see it all.” A faint smile curled her lips and she shifted her hand to grasp the folder to tug it a little closer.
“Okay, well, take a look at the top few photos,” Joel replied, voice a little rough.
Opening the folder, the photos were eight by tens of the crime scene, but photos neither Emlen nor Cullen had yet seen. They showed a man’s boot prints, tracking blood throughout the house, leaving marks on carpets and floors. It clearly showed the path of someone who had searched every closet and room.
“I still don’t know how he didn’t find
you.” Joel spoke quietly. “Do you remember where you were hiding?”
“In the window seat,” Emlen replied, then blinked and looked up at him, only now having just remembered it. Shuffling through the photos, she found one that showed the grate-covered window seat in the living room. “I was in there. When Mama heard someone in the house, she pulled out a blanket, put me in there and then closed it up and put the cushion and blanket back on top. She told me to not make a sound until she came to get me out.”
“That’s in the room she was found in, correct?” Joel asked, his voice soft.
“Yeah. I must’ve seen the whole thing, but I don’t remember. I didn’t even remember hiding in there until you asked just now.” Emlen slid the photos over each other, looking at the rest in the folder. Closing her eyes, she tried to see if any other memories would surface, but nothing did. “I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember anything else right now.”
“Did you ever try hypnosis or anything like that?” Cullen asked, sipping his coffee.
“I think one of the many psychiatrists I saw as a kid might have tried it, but no real results.”
“It’s pretty clear, though, that you do have some repressed memories,” Joel said. “Maybe it’s something to consider trying again. Not that I put a lot of stock in hypnosis, and not like any recovered memories from something like that would be admissible in court, but maybe it’d help you?”
“Then again, her memories may be buried to protect her from what she saw,” Cullen replied.
“True, that’s possible as well.” Joel looked over at Emlen. “Just something to think about, I guess, eh?”
“Yeah, something to think about. So, what else do you have in there?” Emlen slid the photos back into the folder and set it aside.
Two hours later, Emlen had pages of notes and they’d only gone through one of the two boxes set near the table. Joel started another pot of coffee and was making sandwiches. Cullen stacked files back into the box and cleared the table for food. Flipping through her notes, Emlen added comments now and again before asking, “Joel, I know we’ve seen the photos and such, but I know that ‘cop instinct’ is a real thing. I would like to know what your thoughts were that day and what they are now, all these years later.”
Joel brought out the sandwiches, putting the plates in front of each of them before grabbing a bag of chips, dumping a few on his own plate. Sitting down, he grabbed a chip and washed it down with a sip of coffee. “Let me speak plain here. I think whomever killed your mother was supposed to kill you and if they figure out that you’re back in Muckle Cove, they will try again.”
“Then we have to make sure Em stays secret,” Cullen replied. “No one outside of the three of us should know she’s back in town.”
Emlen raised her hand in a ‘stop’ motion, glaring at Cullen. “Didn’t we already talk about this?” Gaze shifts to take in both men. “Look, most of my life, other people decided what I would do and where I would go and how I would get there. No one has done that for me since I was eighteen years old and no one is about to start that now. Are we clear yet?”
“And you came here for my information and my advice.” Joel answered calmly. “So, here’s my advice. Keep your identity hidden and be careful who you question, what questions you ask. You survived once. There’s no guarantee you’ll survive a second attempt.”
“How certain are you that there will be a second attempt?” Cullen asked.
“Try third or fourth attempt,” Joel said. “There was another attempt while Emlen was living with your parents, Cullen. We think there was one when she was about nine or ten. That last one was handled by the Brewster’s security team.”
Emlen sucked in a breath, staring at Joel, eyes wide. “I had a class trip when I was nine. Just before they pulled me out of school. One of my bodyguards disappeared on the trip and when we got back to school, I was called to the office and taken home. Aunt Corinne said it was because I was a troublemaker.” The residual fear was soon overtaken by anger. “I thought it was all my fault I was stuck with a home tutor for a year. That fucking bitch said that Andrews was fired because I was bad!”
“Andrews. Christopher Andrews was found shot to death in an alley behind the Smithsonian a day after your class trip. I got a report on it because I had tags on all of your bodyguards and relatives,” Joel told her. He got up and went to one of the boxes by the door and opened it, flipping through folders until he pulled one free and walked back over to place it in front of her. “He was shot by another one of your guards when he tried to take you out.” News articles and photos of the crime scene spilled across the table as Emlen flipped it open and skimmed the information.
“He used to bring me cherry Cokes when my aunt wouldn’t let me have soda.” Emlen murmured softly as she put the papers back into the folder and closed it. “Any information on who hired him?” Her hands trembled a little as she smoothed them over the folder, then pushed it closer to Joel, reaching for her coffee, taking a couple of swallows.
“No, but it is pretty clear that it’s someone with resources. It looks like after you went to Emerson, word got out that you didn’t have any memories and they backed off. Which is why if word gets out that you’re researching this now, they’ll come after you again.”
Cullen looked from Joel to Emlen as they talk and he nodded, “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, Uncle Joel.” Then he turned to Emlen. “Do you have any idea who your father is?”
A shake of her head and Emlen sighed. “No. Aunt Corinne probably has some suspicion, but she would never tell me. I’m pretty sure grandmother knows but she would cut out her own tongue before she’d ever say. All I know is that he has the same color eyes I have, because my grandmother would tell me to stop looking at her with my father’s eyes when she was really angry with me over something.”
“And you have unusual eyes, but that still won’t narrow down the field.” Joel offered, lifting his mug in a faint salute.
“She was wearing contacts when I first saw her back in town.” Cullen added, chuckling.
“And I dye my hair. It’s normally a lot more red. Subtle change, but it works.” Emlen added, her fingers toying with her necklace.
“Subtle changes are usually the most effective. Make it too dramatic a change and people’s brains register that something is ‘off’. It makes them look twice or remember you when you’re trying to be easily forgotten,” Joel replied. He paused, then smiled down at the pendant caught in her fingers. “I see you still have your mother’s necklace.”
“Of course. It’s one of the few things I have of hers. I always keep it close. I promised I would.” A frown furrowed Emlen’s brow for a moment and then she sighed. “At least, I promised someone. I think it was her. It’s not a clear memory, but I know I have to have it with me always. It keeps me safe.”
“Talismans are powerful things,” Joel assured her. “I remember when your mother sent it to be blessed at the Vatican before she gave it to you.”
“The Pope blessed this? Wow.” Em lifted the amber and silver piece and it sparkled in the sunlight. “That’s pretty impressive. Not that I follow any particular faith, but still…”
A wry grin curled Joel’s lips. “Faith doesn’t need a religion to exist. Protection comes from many things. Just glad to see you still honor her wishes.”
Cullen watched the interplay, a slight frown creased his brow. He raised an eyebrow at Joel who pursed his lips and gave the tiniest of head shakes.
“Joel, are you okay with me having your number and calling with any other questions? I’d like to take this stuff home and spend some time going over it and then talk to you again.” Emlen asked, getting to her feet and stuffing her notes and gear into her bag.
“Of course, give me your phone and I’ll add it,” he replied, doing just that as she handed her phone over. Cullen gathered some of the boxes and headed out to the car.
Emlen turned back to Joel as he handed the phone back. “I really appreciate every
thing you’ve done…and everything you did back then. I’m glad you understand how important this is to me, and how valuable it is for me to have you on my side.”
“Oh, Emlen, you don’t have to thank me. Every cop has that one case that haunts them, and this one is mine. If I can help you find some answers, it would go a long way towards bringing me some peace, too.”
Emlen gave him a hug as Cullen stepped back in to grab the last of the boxes and smiled as he watched them. “Take care of yourself, Joel.” Emlen murmured and turned toward the door. She paused, that little twinge in the back of her mind prodding her as she turned to him and murmured, “Joel, is your health good? Maybe get a checkup or something?”
“Now why would you say that?” Joel asked, a brow arching as he looked at her.
“Just a feeling. You’re a treasure and we don’t want to lose you,” Emlen replied and offered a weak smile as she turned to the door.
“See you Sunday, Uncle Joel,” Cullen called out and stepped outside, following Emlen to the car.
“Sunday? What are you doing on Sunday?” Emlen asked as she slid into the passenger’s seat.
“Uncle Joel and I go fishing every Sunday. He used to go with my dad, but Dad’s in Florida now, so I stepped up and started going with him. Joel’s family, in all the ways that matter.”
