by Ivy Smoak
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Where would the two of them hide something? I was always here. They wouldn’t have hidden it in the house. I looked out the back window at the woods. But my husband didn’t know I was scared of the woods. I turned back to the kitchen. Where? I looked back down at the letter. Where, you crazy bitch?
No. I looked up from the letter and back out the window. My husband didn’t know I was scared of the woods. But Dr. Nash did. I told her about the time I went running. How I had gotten lost and screamed for help.
No one had been able to hear my cries. I had wandered around for hours until I found my way back. She buried the evidence in the woods.
It was rational to wait for Ben. But I was so close. I was so close that I could taste victory. I opened up the back door and walked down the steps. It would be easy. They wouldn’t have wandered far.
This time the crunch of the leaves made me cringe. Without Ben’s hand, I wasn’t calm. If anything, I was frantic. I turned around in a circle. There’d be a freshly dug patch of dirt if they had hidden it recently.
I walked a little farther into the woods and turned in another circle. I’d find it. I had to.
Chapter 43
I had just walked past that tree. Hadn’t I? I wasn’t sure how long I had been looking, but I didn’t know where I was. The sun was starting to set and the trees seemed to be closing in on me. Each time I turned around, the woods felt smaller.
Focus. There wasn’t much light left. I needed to find it. A mound of dirt caught my attention. I dropped to my knees and started digging. I was about to give up when I was elbow deep in soil, but then my fingers brushed against something hard.
I pushed the dirt away to reveal a box. Just a regular shoe box. But I instantly recognized it. My box. The box full of pictures of my abuse. Enough evidence to put my husband in jail even if we couldn’t put him in for life. I opened up the lid, expecting to see the stack of photos. I wasn’t expecting an unaddressed envelope on top of it.
I remembered what Dr. Nash had said. That she had been to my house. That she had looked for the box. I didn’t remember her coming. What if it was because she did come and did find the box and then made me forget? What if she gave me the perfect cocktail of prescription drugs to mess with my mind? Because that bitch had clearly found my box. And decided to hide it from me. And made me feel insane for not remembering.
I took a deep breath. I had a feeling this would be filled with more riddles. But maybe it held the truth. She had said she'd hid what I was looking for. And I was looking for answers. I tore open the envelope to find another letter.
Adeline,
You didn’t deserve it. No one deserves it. But that doesn’t excuse what you did. We both know that. What you don’t realize is that this isn’t what you’re truly looking for. Not even close.
The only thing these photos do is prove that you’re guilty. Yes. You. I know you don’t believe me. You’re probably tempted to show the photos to the police. But it is my professional recommendation that you wait a couple of days to make that decision. Because if you found this box, you have less than 48 hours until you know the truth.
You’ve held onto your secrets this long. What’s one more day? And if you don’t believe me, the proof is in the images.
XOXO,
-Dr. Nash
Professional recommendation my ass. I looked down at the first picture. It was an image of myself staring back at me. With a black eye. The proof was in the images. The proof that my husband was monster. I turned it over. My handwriting was scrawled on the bottom, dating the image. It was from nine and a half years ago. The very first picture I had taken of the abuse. When I still thought there was hope of escaping him.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered Ben’s call. “Ben! I just…”
“There’s nothing here,” he said.
My exciting news died in my throat. “What do you mean nothing’s there?”
“I mean the office is vacant. There isn’t any record of her ever being here. Her office isn’t even listed on the directory in the entrance.”
“I was just there last week. Office 215. It’s on the second floor. Right next to a podiatrist. God, what’s his name?”
“William Antony?” Ben asked.
“Yes, that’s it! Dr. Antony. He’s this small balding man.”
“Yeah, I talked to him. And the owners of several other neighboring offices as well. They all said that office 215 has been vacant for years.”
“Talk to Dr. Antony again. He’ll be able to tell you where it is. You must just be walking past it.”
“It’s not an issuing of finding 215! I’m literally standing outside of it.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. The box had started shaking in my hands. I didn’t like when people yelled at me. Angry tears welled in my eyes. “Don’t talk to me like that.” I was surprised by the venom in my voice.
“I’m sorry, Addy.” His voice was soft. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just frustrated. And I am standing outside of office 215. There’s a vacancy sign hanging in the window. I can see in. There’s nothing there. I don’t know what to tell you, Addy. It’s just not here.”
“And I’m telling you that’s not possible.” He’s losing faith in me. I was holding a letter from Dr. Nash in my hands. It’s not like I made her up. I had been forced to see her for years. Dreaded it for years. And now the psychopath was following me and my husband to Florida. Florida!
“Ben, my husband convinced her to move with us. She probably already packed everything up. Maybe she’s already in Florida. That would explain everything.”
“The neighbors would have remembered her being here then.”
“Not if they were paid to stay quiet. They must have paid them. They’re covering their tracks.”
“Addy, it didn’t seem like they were lying.”
“Of course they were lying! Don’t you believe me?” My voice cracked. Maybe there was some other clue in the box. Another letter or something. I sorted through the images. Anything. Please.
“I do believe you, Addy. But I…I believed them too. We’re missing something. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re going to figure it out. I’m on my way home now. We can talk about it when I get there.”
“I’m not at home. I’m in the woods.”
“What the hell are you doing in the woods?”
Dr. Nash warned me not to tell. What if she was right? What if her advice was finally worth taking? Ben clearly didn’t believe me. Would he believe these notes? Believe the evidence? My fingers stopped and I lifted up one of the images.
It was growing dark, but I could still clearly see that it wasn’t a picture of me. It was an image of a young woman, probably in her early 20’s. She had bruising around her neck like someone had tried to strangle her.
“Addy, where are you?”
Darkness had surrounded me. “I don’t know, Ben.” I stared at the image. She looked so familiar.
“Stay right where you are. I’ll come find you. Did you go straight into the woods from your backyard?”
I was transfixed by the picture. “I don’t know.” Maybe it was her eyes. They held the same pain as mine.
“Addy, it’s a simple question.”
No, it was more than just her eyes. I knew her. But I had no idea how.
“Addy?”
“Ben, I don’t know.” My vision was starting to blur. I closed the lid of the box and stared at the darkness around me. I had told Ben about my past. I had told him everything. So why was I scared to tell him about this? Why was Dr. Nash’s warning stuck in my head?
The proof is in the images.
I felt like I was going to be sick. What proof? That my husband abused other women? A serial killer with a side hobby of assault? Vile. Disgusting. Horrible man. He was already abusing me. I didn’t need other proof. So why did I have these images? Why were they in my box? And why did she look so damn familiar?
&
nbsp; “I’m coming, Addy.” Ben sounded out of breath like he had been running for a while already. “Stay where you are. I’ll find you.”
He was running toward me. I could hear the crunching of leaves. So I did the first thing I could think of. I put the box back in the hole and shoved the dirt back on top. And then I started running in the opposite direction of the crunching leaves.
Chapter 44
I peeled off my muddy clothes and put them in the waste bin. My ankle throbbed. I wasn’t sure how I had evaded Ben.
I stepped into the hot shower. My mind was always clearest when I ran and when I showered. And I kept coming back to one conclusion. My husband and Dr. Nash were framing me. My fingerprints were on the box. On the safe. And they were both conveniently not here. The only two questions were what were they framing me for exactly. And why.
My husband didn’t need to frame me for anything. He had convinced me to kill my father. And he made the state think I was insane. It was his word against mine. Any competent jury would convict me. So what else were they planning?
I closed my eyes and let the water hit my face. The water burned the cuts and scrapes on my face from rushing through the trees. And all I could hear were the autumn leaves beneath my feet. I was going in circles. I wiped the water from my eyes and opened them.
It was like I was stuck in the woods. Why couldn’t I focus? Think, Adeline. Think!
I started to scrub off the mud that was caked onto my skin. The FBI was closing in on my husband. He needed a scapegoat to get them off his trail. And who better than his loony wife? He was going to make me pay for his crimes.
I realized my skin was growing red from all the scrubbing. I stepped back under the water to rinse off and heard the crunching of leaves again. Stop. I switched off the shower and wrapped a towel around my body.
My husband was trying to frame me. I nodded to myself. But I wasn’t going to let that happen. I just needed to figure out if Ben would believe me. If I could trust him, then I could show him the letter from the safe. I could show him the box in the woods.
I eyed my jeans in the trash. The letter from Dr. Nash was nestled in the back pocket. Instead of lifting it out, I opened the bathroom door.
My ankle hurt. And I was exhausted. I changed into a pair of pajamas as I looked down at my phone. I had silenced it when I was running home. There were several missed calls from Ben.
He was worried, but I couldn’t see him right now. My mind was a jumbled mess. He’d want to know why I was in the woods. And I didn’t know what to tell him. He had doubts. I could hear it in his voice over the phone. He was doubting my story.
I pinched the bridge of my nose as I sat down on my bed. I was doubting my story too. Stop. Dr. Nash was in my head. A woman that had vanished without a trace was trying to ruin my life.
I needed sleep. I needed time to process the notes. And that girl’s face. I could still see the fear in her eyes. I popped some of the Advil off my nightstand and pulled the comforter up to my chin.
All I could see were the woods when I closed my eyes. And I wished that the Advil were still sleeping pills.
***
I woke up to the smell of bacon. Bacon? I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Someone was cooking downstairs. My husband’s home early. He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow night! Shit! I quickly got up and dressed. He’d see the Home Alone items on the coffee table. And the movie was under recently watched on the TV. He’d know what I was planning.
Had he seen my clothes in the bathroom trash? Did he know I had gotten into the safe? My heart was racing as I went into the bathroom. The note was still in the back pocket, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t seen it. I folded it in half, tucked it in my jeans’ pocket, and made my way down the stairs. Please be in a good mood.
I turned the corner to see Ben at the stove flipping pancakes. The sight of him instantly made my heartbeat return to normal. I sighed with relief. But then he turned to me. His face had cuts and scrapes, just like mine. I had run away from him in the woods. I had run away and all he had been trying to do was help.
And all I wanted to do was inspect every inch of him to make sure he was okay. I cared about the man in front of me. And I knew in that moment that I could trust him.
“I’m sorry, Ben. I’m so sorry.”
“You ran from me. Why did you run from me?” He turned off the burner.
“I panicked.”
He carried two plates over to the table.
“You didn’t believe me on the phone,” I continued when he didn’t say anything. “You yelled at me.”
He abandoned the plates and walked over to me in the doorway. “I’m sorry that I raised my voice. But, Addy…your stories aren’t lining up. I’m frustrated because I can’t solve this case if you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying, Ben. She’s real. She is. I was just there the other day.” I fished the note out of my pocket and handed it to him. “She wrote this. It was what was in the safe. She’s real.” I never thought I’d need to convince him of this. But the note proved she was real. “The code to the safe was Nash. It all revolves around her.”
He stared at me and then lifted the note out of my hands.
I wished I had gotten the box and the other note. It would be hard to find again. But I could try to retrace my steps from last night. Ben would know what to do. I watched him reading the letter. Figuring stuff out like this was his job. He’d clear all this up in a flash.
Ben shook his head and looked back up to me. “This is a bunch of nonsense. There’s nothing coherent in this note. It’s just riddles.”
“I know. She’s trying to mess with my head. Don’t you see? And I know she just moved. My husband told me she did. She’s in Florida. We can find her.”
“Addy, I didn’t just talk to the owners of the neighboring practices. I talked to receptionists and even patients. There’s no way they were all paid off. So I started digging…”
“Of course they were paid off. It’s the only thing that makes sense!”
“Addy, I need you to sit down for a moment, alright?”
“Why?” I could feel a headache coming on. “She’s real, Ben.” I couldn’t make myself sit down. “She’s real.”
“I'm not saying that Dr. Nash wasn’t real.”
I heard the past tense and my body felt like it was shutting down. I somehow managed to sit down before I fell to the ground.
“I’m saying that she hasn’t been alive for over 4 years. And she was never located here. She was from New York City. Whoever you’ve been going to see was posing as her. Your husband must have hired someone to play a role.”
“There are probably a lot of Dr. Nash’s. Maybe you just found the wrong one.”
“No. She had the same letterhead as the Dr. Nash in your files.” He opened up a box on the floor. It was one of the ones from the basement.
“I asked you not to look through those, Ben.” It felt like my throat was constricting. How was I supposed to trust him when he did the opposite of what I asked him to?
“These files are dated from when she started her practice, up until today,” he said, ignoring me. “The files before her death have an address in New York City.” He opened one up and showed it to me. “The files after her death have an address here.” He showed me one of those too. “You don’t appear in any of the files when she was actually alive. Only once she passed away. Addy, your basement is filled with files from a dead psychologist. Which is odd, because her offices burned down. She died in that fire too. So why do you think you have files that had apparently burned in the fire that killed her?”
“I have no idea.” I lifted one up. Betty Ann Tompkins was written at the top. “They’re not all about me?” I looked up at him.
“No.” He sat down across from me. “And the ones about you aren’t real.”
I had an unsettling feeling in my stomach. “Ben, I don’t know. I was definitely seeing someone. They prescribed me drugs…”
&n
bsp; “I believe you. But you weren’t seeing Dr. Nash. And there’s a link here. Clearly your husband killed Dr. Nash. And what if some of his targets are people in these files? There’s too many for me to sort through, but I’m having some people pick them up to analyze. This could be the missing link.”
“Ben, I don’t think that’s a good idea. If my husband sees that they’re missing…”
“This could be what puts him away. He won’t even get a chance to see that they’re gone. We’ll arrest him before he even steps foot back in this house.”
“You really think there’s a link?”
“Why kill Dr. Nash and steal the files if there isn’t? He’s called The Doctor because we thought he was posing as a psychologist. He’s been using her name. And he could have been finding his targets with those files. They’re all mentally ill just like the victims and they…”
“You’re not necessarily mentally ill for going to a psychologist, Ben. Some people just need someone to talk to. Others are abused.” I could feel tears welling in my eyes.
He sat down next to me and grabbed my face in his hand. “I know, Addy. I’m sorry.” He wiped away my tears with his thumbs.
“For years I wished I had someone to talk to. Someone that was on my side.”
“I know.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “Now you have me.”
God it felt good to have his hands on me. I felt calmer as soon as his skin touched mine. “But you’re right. Some of them probably are mentally ill.”
He nodded. “I think we’ve got him, Addy.”
A knock on the door made me jump.
“It’s alright. It’s just forensics for the boxes.”
I watched silently as men took box after box out of my home. As each box was removed, the unsettling feeling in my stomach got stronger. When the door finally closed, I had eaten far too many pancakes. Since when have I eaten my feelings? I pushed the plate away. The meds must have messed with my appetite. Maybe I was just making up for years of missed meals.
