She nodded, but didn’t move. She stayed in my embrace for how many minutes I didn’t even know. All that mattered was that she was alive and here with me now. She shifted slightly and her eyes connected with mine as she tipped her chin up. Fear still edged her gaze, but she whispered that she was ready to leave. I nodded, but she kept my arm draped over her, pretending I was her shield.
I felt like anything but that.
I had failed her.
The house was filled with agents. I spotted Sam at the bottom of the staircase as I tried to steer Hannah away from the deceased men on the landing, but she stopped and brought her stare toward them.
“This was a gift,” she said. The callousness in her voice was something I’d never heard come from her lips, and she’d already lived through more evil than most anyone I knew. I had put this coldness in her heart.
It was my world that broke her.
She brought her gaze to mine and I saw a flicker of something I didn’t recognize and every part of me ached for the Hannah I’d created.
“The man who did this is a different type of evil, Luke. I don’t know what it is he thinks you have, but you better find him before he finds you.” Her lip cracked and began bleeding on the last syllable. She sank back into my embrace as I helped her down the stairs.
Armed men stood guard as I led her out of the house. It no longer felt like Southern California, but rather, a militarized zone. A helicopter hovered above and the entire street had been cordoned off. Hannah gripped my hand tightly as she held it close to her face. EMTs rushed over to her, but she waved them off. She just wanted to go home.
Imprisoned by my emotions, all I could do was hold her and keep my thoughts to myself. I’d almost lost her, and I loved her too much to put her in harm’s way ever again. Things had to change. These people would pay for their sins.
Hannah
It had been three weeks since the incident. That was how I referred to everything that happened. It was merely an incident. I wanted to believe it was nothing more than a blip on my life path. Regardless of how I felt, the consensus seemed to be that I needed to start seeing a therapist to work through things, and that was where I was today, sitting in the waiting room. It was a bland room with space for no more than two chairs. The walls were a pale yellow and the chairs a soft ivory. I imagined the colors were to soothe, but I had a feeling it would take more than a calm color scheme to mend most of us who walked through the doors.
I let out a sigh and glanced at the clock that looked more like a sculpture than a timepiece. One more minute and Dr. Doro would appear in the doorway and invite me into his large office. He was an older man with greying hair and a salt and pepper mustache. I’d only seen him in black chinos and cotton sweaters. So far he’d worn a different color each time I visited—same sweater, different color. I think I was up to seven times. Wow. Seven times in three weeks, and I still didn’t feel any different.
“Ms. Walker.” He appeared right on time, motioning me into his office with his hands. His smile was genuine and so was the hope resting behind his eyes that he could help me. The problem was that I wasn’t sure I needed help, just time.
“How are you doing today?” he asked, after I walked through the door and he gently closed it.
I scanned the room and decided on the chair right in front of his desk this time. Sometimes I sat on the couch, but I didn’t feel all that relaxed today. Luke had left early this morning, and he didn’t tell me where he was going. I’d spent the night at his house. There had been a lot of excursions like that since I’d gotten back. It had been a lot harder to track him down than before everything happened. I didn’t want to read too much into his schedule, but it was hard not to.
“I’m doing really good,” I said, taking a seat.
Dr. Doro slid into the chair behind his desk, and he picked up his pen, scribbling something down quickly.
“Did you try the exercises I gave you last session?” His brows raised in a hopeful question.
“I did and they worked,” I lied.
There was one little thing that had surfaced since the incident. I never wanted to leave the house. Mia didn’t try to push me, and the only other place I went was to Luke’s house. The idea of life’s simple pleasures like a coffee shop or grocery store scared the hell out of me.
Dr. Doro tilted his head and leaned forward.
“Hm. Just like that, huh? They worked? Which did you find most effective?”
“Staying centered and giving myself a moment before going out. I made it through the front door yesterday and sat on the steps outside the home and did the breathing exercises to center myself when I felt anxiety.” That part was true. I just didn’t mention the part about fleeing back inside when a car I didn’t recognize turned around in front of our house.
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
“Most patients don’t find success quite so quickly. It’s a cognitive exercise, but I’m happy to hear it.”
I shrugged my shoulders and settled into the chair.
“I’m sensing something is bothering you,” he stated, joining his fingertips together as he watched me.
“Nothing more than usual.”
Dr. Doro nodded. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Why always the questions?
“I’ve noticed my relationship with Luke has changed since I was rescued.” I was surprised at how willing I was to say something to an almost stranger.
“That’s natural. You’ve been through a lot, and he may not know how to deal with some of the emotions you’ve exhibited.”
“I’m not sure I’ve had many…outwardly.”
Dr. Doro nodded and smiled. “That in itself can make it difficult for partners. He might have expectations of how he thought you might behave and possibly those aren’t being met.”
“I can’t imagine he wants me to be sitting in a corner crying all day.”
Dr. Doro didn’t say anything.
“That’s not how I am. I’ve never let things get to me. I’ve always figured that if you keep moving in life, your past won’t have time to haunt you.”
“You feel your past is only there to haunt you?” he questioned.
“Not necessarily the only thing, but I don’t see why I’d want to wallow in all the bad times. Everyone goes through difficulties. It’s how you pick yourself up that matters.”
“Hannah, that’s a very healthy way of looking at life… to a point. But might I say that if you’re busy thrusting yourself into the future so you don’t have to deal with your past, you might miss out on the present? Maybe Luke wants to help you work through what just happened and you’re not giving him the opportunity.”
“Love is tough. Love can be complicated. I don’t want to make it even worse by breaking down in front of him every time I’m scared. It’s complicated enough between us.”
“So you think your love for Luke is based on complication?”
“I don’t think it is based on complication, but I think we’ve had some complications along the way. Doesn’t everyone?”
“I’d say that every couple has some experiences that will challenge them, but I will tell you that you’ve faced more than most couples do. I’d also say there could be an unhealthy attraction you both have for complication, which leads to one another.”
“I didn’t ask to be held hostage.” My cheeks turned hot with anger.
“Of course you didn’t. But didn’t you two meet under rather extraordinary circumstances prior to that?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Weren’t you on the run?” he pressed.
I wished I hadn’t told him so much.
“Again, that’s circumstance. And a circumstance that I didn’t have any control over.”
“Maybe he’s drawn to—”
I threw up my hands to interrupt him. “I’ve never been the damsel in distress and he is fully aware of that. I can take care of myself and
do. Believe me, he’s offered me things that would definitely make my life easier, but I work for everything I have. He is not with me because he has to save me.”
“One thing you have to understand is that childhood trauma often increases the risk of future trauma. From what you’ve told me in a previous session, Luke also faced childhood trauma.”
I hated where he was going with this observation and refused to lend a response.
“Until the traumas of both past and present are resolved, the chances of a healthy relationship with each other, or anyone, are slim.”
“So you’re saying I’m doomed and so is Luke?”
The doctor shook his head and wrote something down. I really wish I knew what his scribbles revealed over the last couple of weeks.
“All I’m saying is that sometimes relationships aren’t built on the healthiest of platforms, and it isn’t that the relationship won’t work, but it might need extra care along the way… And a willingness to take ownership of what in particular attracts you to the other person and the relationship itself. If your feelings are genuine and you’re both authentic to yourselves and each other, the relationship has a much better chance at lasting.”
“I’d imagine that would be the case for all relationships.” I bristled at the way he categorized our relationship. I’d never spoken of it before, and I certainly never gave him enough information to surmise much of anything.
And that was when it hit me. There was a reason the doctor felt he knew about me, about us. How did I not see this? I let out a sigh on accident.
“Have you and Luke discussed your abduction?”
I could see it in Dr. Doro’s gaze. He already knew the answer.
He knew the answer because Dr. Doro was Luke’s therapist.
But I could use this to my advantage.
“Not much. He’s so seldom at his house that even if I wanted to…” my voice trailed off.
“He’s out?”
I nodded. “I know he feels responsible, and I’ve tried to tell him he’s not to blame and how ridiculous that is, but he won’t listen.”
“Do you think he believes he could have done something differently?”
“I do.” I didn’t want to actually voice what I worried Luke thought he should’ve done differently. “But I really don’t want to talk about it any longer.”
“Fair enough. What would you like to discuss?”
“Is it normal to dream of hurting someone?”
“Who are you dreaming of hurting?”
“The man who is after Luke. The one who had me abducted and let me go just as easily. He had the chance to kill me and he didn’t.”
“As we’ve discussed before, there is no such thing as normal. Every person processes trauma differently. The most important thing to do is work through each stage. Would I consider it troublesome that you’re imagining hurting someone who hurt you and wants to hurt someone you love? No. Thinking of something is different than acting on something. Are the thoughts intrusive?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do thoughts of hurting the person impede your daily activities or interrupt your normal routines?”
“You mean do I sit for hours and daydream about it? No. It’s just been in a couple of my dreams or nightmares or whatever you’d call them.”
“Survivors of trauma…”
“You mean life,” I interrupted.
He smiled. “…tend to cope in different ways. Recognizing the mental and physical symptoms is a very important step in healing. You’re willing to recognize and deal with your symptoms, from the sounds of it.” He paused and caught my gaze. “Sometimes, it can be years later before the symptoms occur, especially if the person has failed to recognize the traumas from their past. Remember, Hannah, not everyone can or will handle trauma the same way you do. Sometimes a trauma survivor might even have a relapse or experience a trigger that can’t be avoided. If this is the case, you can’t blame yourself for how it will be handled.”
I realized the doctor was no longer talking about me. He was talking to me, and all I could do was pray that Luke hadn’t told the doctor something that would shatter my already fragile world.
Luke
“You understand that you’re prohibited from giving to or receiving any articles from the prisoner?” The front lobby officer asked, as I signed the log sheet.
“Yes. I understand.”
“You also need to fill out this form.”
I nodded and glanced at the sheet that was dotted with questions about my relationship to the prisoner and the purpose of my visit. It was similar to the one I’d filled out years ago when he was first brought here. They already had this information on file, but it was all part of the process. I filled in the information quickly, wanting to get this entire ordeal over with, and slid the completed paperwork back to the officer.
“Stand over here, please.” The officer pointed to a square on the floor marked by worn, blue paint.
“Spread your legs and raise your arms.”
I did as instructed and the officer quickly patted me down and ran a wand over my suit jacket and pants, barely dusting my body.
“How many people does the room hold?” I asked.
“One-hundred and sixteen.”
I nodded and returned to a normal stance after the officer completed his search. This wasn’t how I saw spending a Friday morning, but I needed answers and Hannah was occupied with Dr. Doro. Mitch had driven her to the appointment. Both my sister and Hannah refused to go into hiding, which shouldn’t have surprised me but it did.
“Mr. Fletcher, please step through the door.”
A loud, angry buzz echoed through the prison lobby and the door in front of me unlocked. I pressed on the handle and pushed it open. With every step deeper into the prison corridor, I questioned my logic on visiting the man who stole my parents from me. He refused to give answers then so I didn’t know why I thought that would change.
I looked down the vacant hallway and followed the officer to a metal door. Another buzz sounded and the officer opened the door to the visiting room. I wasn’t ready for what I saw. There were several armed officers standing along the cement walls, but the room was filled mostly with families. Children sat on the chairs, staring at their fathers, and women bounced infants as they spoke to their partners. Mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles were sprinkled through the room, and it wasn’t something I’d ever thought of—the families these criminals left behind.
There was an empty table in the far corner, which I made my way to. Taking a seat, I adjusted my tie and stared straight in front of me. I felt several sets of eyes on me but paid them no attention. I was solely focused on speaking with my uncle.
I heard the door alarm and brought my gaze to the prisoner’s entrance where two officers were bringing him in, the man who’d killed my parents. He looked no different than he did back then, maybe slightly older. Prison had been too kind to him. I didn’t bother to stand up to greet him. He didn’t deserve that respect. My uncle read the message loud and clear and sat down across from me. The guards wandered off, leaving silence in their wake. It was hard not to reach across the table and wring his neck, but then I’d be no better than him. He was a coward and a murderer. I was not. Instead of saying anything, I just stared at him.
“I had a feeling you’d come to see me some day. You’ve become something of a celebrity with your security firm over the last few years. Actors and politicians on your speed dial. Your parents would be proud.”
Fury hammered through me as I glared at my uncle. This was a mistake.
“I’m assuming this visit has to do with the woman you had cradled in your arms. You know, I wasn’t sure when I first came here if you’d ever visit, but I was pleasantly surprised when you acknowledged and filled out the visitor forms. That was how many years ago?”
I shrugged. The mere mention of Hannah unnerved me. The story had been splashed all over the news, and it made sense he’d seen it, but
I didn’t like the connection he made.
“I knew eventually something would lead you here someday. It’s her, isn’t it?”
Ignoring his question, I leaned into the table.
“Why wouldn’t you help the investigators?” I asked.
My uncle smiled and shook his head. “I had to protect my kids. Still do.”
“That’s a pretty weak defense. Your entire family could’ve been placed into protective custody. You didn’t have to commit murder to protect your kids. That’s such a lie. I can’t even believe you’d sit here and tell me that.”
My uncle’s brows knotted together, and he placed his hands on the table, staying silent. I noticed a few scars on his knuckles. The tips of his fingers looked calloused. His gaze shifted to the table and he shook his head.
“Things aren’t always black and white…Right or wrong,” he muttered. “Variables exist in our world”
My pulse quickened as I watched this man evade responsibility.
“You honestly think you had no options? That you had to murder my parents,” I scoffed. “You’re insane. Actually insane.”
His eyes flashed to mine. “You don’t understand the kind of people you’re dealing with. The evil you’ve known doesn’t even come close to the depravity that they have at their fingertips, and all they have to do is snap their fingers and everyone you love will be taken from you.”
This visit was pointless, and I was angry with myself for wasting time.
“I was going to jail either way, Luke. So was my wife. What we did was to protect our children. We knew our fate before we pulled the trigger. There was no escape from the sins we’d already committed.” His jaw twitched as he licked his lips. “Not everything is as it appears. What you think you may know about the situation might not be the complete picture of what your parents were involved in. They were in deep.”
“Why don’t you tell me then?” I knew he was bluffing. He was a crazy, old man who wanted to make himself feel better about killing family.
Buried Sins Page 9
