by S. K. Grice
THE FAMILY TREE
A PSYCHOLOGICAL THRILLER
S.K. Grice
Copyright © 2021 by S.K. Grice
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Author’s Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
About the Author
For seekers of truth.
Author’s Note
Certain police and law procedures may or may not reflect true life processes. Even after research, they have been modified for dramatic effect. This is a work of fiction.
Prologue
January 7, 2020
The letter in my hand was addressed to me, Jolene Parker, and postmarked from my hometown of Lighthouse Beach, Virginia. As with the others, the sender had used the same block-style handwriting and bogus return address.
I slit the envelope. Through the folded waxed paper, I saw the distinctive oblong shape of a red oak leaf. Chills rattled across my shoulders as dread pressed against my chest.
Darkness fell around me. I would never be free.
Chapter One
August 3, 2003
The Cicadas in the forest hissed like electricity on the night my life changed forever.
I parked my Camry in the driveway of the wood-sided farmhouse. This wasn’t my place, but it was where I’d grown up. The home belonged to my best friend, Annette, and her mother Patsy—the closest thing I had to family. The only place where I got the love I craved.
But Annette had been avoiding me for the past two weeks. I’d meant to drive over and ask her what the hell was going on, but then she’d texted earlier today. Said her mom was down in the Outer Banks this weekend, and could I come over to chill tonight? Now, I’d find out what had been on her mind.
Bottle of Chardonnay in hand, I stepped into the humid night. Fireflies twinkled in the darkness over the freshly cut lawn.
A warm glow came through the screened front door, lighting the steps up to the verandah. The soothing voice of Nora Jones rolled outside. I walked into the living room where the comforting undertone of baking bread lingered in the air. My muscles relaxed. Patsy’s home did that to me. Immediately put me at ease. The soft sofa and armchairs in seafoam green were so fresh and airy compared to the cramped home I shared with my alcoholic father and his dimwitted girlfriend.
“Hello? Anyone home?” I set the bottle of wine onto the pine coffee table and turned down the CD player.
Annette pranced down the stairs in her fave hip-hugging running shorts and sports bra, her long brown hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her tanned skin glistened like she’d just finished a workout. “Damn, girl. It’s about time you got here.”
I pointed to the wine. “I brought something to celebrate our last week of Summer.”
“I have something better.” She unfolded a piece of aluminum foil and revealed two small squares of paper, each with a purple dot.
LSD. I’d seen the stuff floating around our college campus. I crossed my arms. “What’s this? Back-to-the-sixties night? When did you start doing acid?”
A rascal-grin spread on her face. “I’ve already tried some. Last week with Nancy.” She held out the squares. “Come on. Let’s have an adventure before we head back to college next week.”
Adventure. I’d worked my ass off all Summer and deserved some excitement. Blood surged through my veins, then slowed. I licked my lips. I wanted to live life to the fullest. Experience new things. Was I game? No. Caution took over. “I don’t know. I had enough drugs when I was in the psych ward.” I nudged past her and headed toward the bar cabinet on the other side of the room for two wine glasses.
“Don’t be a baby.” She huffed and followed me close. “This isn’t that zone-you-out stuff they gave you in the hospital. I got this from Jackson. He’s careful.”
I rolled my eyes, then set the glasses on the coffee table. “Of course, we should trust the local drug dealer.”
“I’m telling you—this batch is clean. Totally safe.” She waved the foil in front of my face. “Come on. We’ll see rainbows and butterflies. You’ll never laugh harder in your life.”
The spot on the paper looked so miniscule—just a tiny drop of ink. How much harm could it do? “I dunno. You’re talking about the cool psychedelic trips. What about the bad ones? The kind that fuck people up for life? I’m not screwing up my mind.”
“Too late for that, you wacko.” She elbowed me. “Trust me. We’ll have the best night ever.”
A smile pushed on my lips. Annette was the only person who believed I wasn’t looney. And she had a serious knack for making risky situations sound harmless. She’d encouraged me to jump back on the horse that bucked me off. Challenged me to surf big waves. Dared me to fuck the cute surfer dude in high school. Like an extroverted big sister, she’d pushed me out of my shell and given me the best times of my life. Taking acid wasn’t any different.
“I’ll make a deal with you.” Annette’s eyes twinkled with her familiar infectious charm. “If you take this with me tonight, I’ll go to one of those pretentious sorority parties with you this year.”
I blew out a puff of air. An incentive. I’d tried all last year to get her to join me for one of the themed parties, but she’d detested the Greek life. And this was my chance to get her away from the slackers she’d been hanging out with at school. I straightened my shoulders. “And you’ll stay for more than an hour?”
“I’ll stay as long as you want.” One hand went up in an oath. “I promise.” She picked a blotter off the foil and popped it into her mouth, coaxing me with her devilish grin.
I shrugged, then put the other piece on my tongue and swallowed. A granule of bitterness trickled down my throat. Flutters of anticipation rippled through me. I’d done it again—impulsively followed Annette for the promise of excitement. Now I could add tripping on acid to my list of been-there-done-that experiences. I rubbed my hands together. “How long until it kicks in?”
Annette sat on the couch and poured the wine. “It took about forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, before Nancy and I started hallucinating. It’s all laughs from there.”
I plopped down next to her and held up my glass. “A toast to our last week of Summer.” We clinked glasses and I took a long sip of the cool, dry wine.
Creeeeak.
My heart slammed into my c
hest. The sound had come from the kitchen at the back of the house. “What the fuck was that?”
Annette jumped up and tip-toed toward the kitchen. “Hello?”
An eerie second of silence sliced through the room. My throat went dry. Willow Road was a dark and isolated rural backroad. Two miles long, it dead-ended at a loblolly pine-forest reserve. The nearest neighbor was at least a quarter of a mile down the road.
Slam. The back door.
Fear shot up my spine and I leaped from the couch. Annette grabbed my arm, yanking me toward the front door.
We were almost there when a powerful pull on my hair jerked me backwards so hard, I had to twist my body around to stay on my feet. I locked eyes with Mike Morton, the alcoholic beach rat who slummed around town. Hot rage pulsed through my blood, and I grabbed his wrist, trying to wrench free from his grasp. “Let go, you asshole!”
“Stop, Mike!” Annette shouted. “Let go of her. What do you want?”
He tightened his grip on my hair and twisted and pulled so hard that I felt my scalp pull away from my skull. My eyes watered as my mind scrambled for a defense. He aimed a long, serrated knife an inch from my cheek then glared at Annette with bloodshot eyes that nearly popped out of his face. “Give me all your money.”
His hot breath drifted past my nose—whisky and sewage. In my peripheral, Annette rummaged through my purse. The cold steel tip of the knife touched my cheek, but I didn’t flinch. For a moment, I thought I might reason with Mike, yet my slightest twitch might trigger him to push the blade into my throat. My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
“Here, Mike.” Annette extended her arm with my wallet in her hand. “Take this. You could’ve just asked.” Her voice was close to a whisper. “We would have—”
Mike was as slight as Gumby. Still, he tossed me aside with the strength of a linebacker. I slammed into the ground, my elbow smashing onto the hardwood floor. Sharp pain rammed deep into my bone.
“Gimme that.” Mike snatched the wallet from Annette and scowled at the three twenties I’d just withdrawn from the ATM. “This all you have, you stupid slut?” He threw the wallet on the floor.
Tears had filled my eyes, each breath burning my lungs. I had to get us out of this.
Annette held out her hands. “Yes. It’s—”
“Fuck you.” Mike slapped her hard. She stumbled backwards and grabbed the rail on the staircase. He huddled over her, the knife raised and pointed to her neck. “I know you rich-ass bitches have money. Where is it?”
Annette whimpered and cowered against the handrail, shielding her head with her arms.
I pushed myself up from the floor, my knees shaking. A prism of light beamed into my vision. On my right—lead crystal candlesticks on top of the fireplace mantel. An easy reach.
Grab one. Hit him.
Adrenaline fired through my blood, igniting every impulse to act. My hands clenched then unclenched.
Hit him. Hit him.
I had only one chance.
Mike circled the knifepoint around Annette’s ashen face. “I’m going to slice you up if you don’t tell me where the money is.”
My eyes stayed fixed on Mike’s back as I lifted the heavy candlestick from the mantel. I held it tight, took three wide and calculated steps and then whacked the heavy square base into the back of his head. His skull cracked—the smashing-pumpkin sound so clear that it turned my stomach. Bitter bile surged up my throat.
Mike dropped the knife and turned to me. His eyes crossed, glazed in confusion. Blood dripped from his nose. He opened his mouth to speak. “Ggggh, gggh.”
Fuck. What had I done? I backed up to the middle of the living room as Annette rushed to my side.
Mike reached for me and I held up the candlestick, ready to defend myself with another blow. Then his legs swayed…and he collapsed to his knees like a broken string-puppet.
I held Annette close, trembling and looking down at Mike. His arms twitched, and he rolled to his side, eyes fluttering.
I cupped my hand over my mouth to contain my scream. I’d never hurt anyone. Not even in a schoolyard fight or a mean-girls brawl. The only time I’d had the need to protect myself was when I’d been hospitalized and molested by my trusted therapist. But back then I’d been a defenseless, over-medicated minor, so that didn’t count.
Annette dropped to her knees and brushed the scraggly hair from his eyes. “Poor Mike.” Her tone was soft and deliberate. She smoothed her hand over his bloody face like she was soothing his injury.
I tossed the candlestick onto the couch and closed my eyes. What had I done? The darkness behind my eyelids dripped with blood and I covered my face with my hands, trying to block out the image. My breaths came shallow and fast. I heard Annette’s voice. A whimper, a pleading. I didn’t want to look.
A scuffing of scratchy feet came from the verandah. I opened my eyes, and the room spun. The rustling of shrubs. I pulled back the sheer curtain at the front living room window and looked outside. Pitch black. Most likely a raccoon.
The sickening sound of gurgling and gasping brought me back to the moment. Mike was alive. He could be saved.
Get help.
I dug my hand into my purse, searching for my phone. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
Annette jumped from the floor and grabbed my arm. “It’s too late.” Her skin whitened, and I saw my own fear reflected in her face. “He’s dead.” Her tone was as heavy and flat as a slab of marble.
Every hair on my body stiffened. Mike’s lifeless body lay sideways on the floor, a trickle of blood seeped from his ear, and his plastic-looking doll eyes stared at nothing. Nausea rolled through me. I splayed my hands over my face, trying to register what I’d done.
I’d just killed a man. A man I knew only from his loser reputation.
But it had been an accident. He’d threatened my life. Annette’s life. This was self-defense. “We have to call the police.” Though I wasn’t sure what I would say to the operator. Hello, I’d like to report an accidental death.
“No. No police.” Her voice had turned deep, steady, and she stared me down. “We can’t get the cops involved.”
I’d never seen this side of Annette; even the angles on her face looked sharper. Neither of us were thinking clearly. “But we’ve done nothing wrong! He invaded your home—this was self-defense.”
Annette’s nostrils flared, and her blue eyes darkened. “The asshole deserved to die.”
My skin tightened, pushing tiny hairs to the surface. Her guttural voice sounded like it had come from someone else. “What? Why—how can you say that?”
She blew out a breath. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” She paced the floor in front of Mike’s body. “Remember the party at Bulldog’s beach house? The one you couldn’t make?”
Bulldog’s parties were legendary, and I’d been annoyed I couldn’t get off work early that night. “That was three weeks ago.”
“Right. Well, I got wasted. Drank way too many shots. The house was packed. Somehow, I got separated from Denise and Nancy. I wound up having a few laughs with Mike.” She sighed. “He was being nice, you know?” Her voice cracked, and she hung her head.
I recognized the tortured look of shame, but this wasn’t the time for her to sort out feelings. “What happened, Annette?”
“The house got really hot and crowded, so Mike asked me if I wanted to go walk on the beach…get some fresh air.” She moved to the staircase and sat on the bottom step, like telling the story was draining all her strength.
I slid into the space next to her on the step. “Make this quick.”
She cupped her hands over her bent knees and looked to the floor. “As soon as Mike and I were on the trail to the beach, he surprised me with a punch to my face.”
My hand went to my mouth, catching a gasp. “The bruise on your cheek...”
Her fingers traced the spot on her face where the cut had just healed. The same side he’d hit and made red again tonight. “That wasn’t a doo
r I ran into, but his fist. I tried to run away, but he was too strong. He dragged me to the dunes and…and he raped me.” She put her face in her hands, hunched over, and rocked.
I patted her back, trying to stay calm instead of hurt that she hadn’t told me sooner. I could have helped her somehow. But we had a bigger problem to deal with now. I needed to stay calm for Annette’s sake.
She lifted her head, redness spreading across her face. “I tried to fight him off, but—”
“Okay. It’s okay. I know his small frame is deceiving.” My hand moved to my sore elbow. Nothing compared to the violence he’d inflicted on Annette.
With slumped shoulders, she looked straight ahead. “After he raped me, he just zipped up his pants and walked away. Not a word. I was dizzy and disoriented. Totally lost. It took a long time to find my way out of the dunes.”
“This is why you’ve been acting so weird for the past couple of weeks.” I swallowed my hurt. She knew about the molestation I’d experienced in the hospital and how no one had believed me. We’d always shared our deepest secrets. “Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”
“How could I tell anyone? Everyone at the party saw how drunk I was. People would’ve seen me happily go down to the beach with Mike. My lip was cut. I was a mess. I couldn’t go back and face anyone, so I crawled into Nancy’s car and slept. When Nancy and Denise got back to the car later, I told them I wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t say a word the whole ride home.” Annette took a long breath.
