Whispered Pain

by Ashley Fontainne

  It didn’t matter to Angie that her father would never hear the words. She said them, lancing the pain inside her own mind. Looking around at her handiwork, she forced her stomach to calm down. The two men who’d done such unspeakable things, hurt so many people, killed for no reason, were gone. There was one thing left to add to the crime scene. Reaching in her father’s pocket, she pulled out the syringe, empty vial of Oxytocin, the package it came in, and the most important piece of all, the lab report. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed them onto the floor near Drake’s body.

  The crime scene would be easy to piece together. Doubts about his son-in-law’s story began to simmer inside the old doc’s mind. Too many unanswered questions, holes in his story. The inquisitive mind of a renowned physician kicked in. A lab test confirmed his suspicions. So he decided to go talk to him, clear the air, his bereaved mind in overdrive after attending the funeral of his only child. What he found was a drunk, doped up Drake, who’d just finished filling out the insurance forms for his wife, and was busy trying to dispose of the evidence that could nail him to the wall.

  Of course, the wise doctor immediately recognized the vial, picked it up. Showed Drake the lab report, and questioned the reasons for Oxytocin in Drake’s possession. A horrible, horrible argument ensued, resulting in a violent confrontation. The distraught doctor pulled his gun, the guilty son-in-law tried to fight back, and they fell to the floor. A tussle for the gun ended with the fatal shot. Poor Drake Benson, already teetering on the edge from his crimes, the alcohol and drugs, topped off with a nasty head wound, suffered a heart attack. How fucking tragic.

  Without another glance at either of the men who tried to ruin not only her world, but her mother’s, Angie picked up the urn from the table and retraced her steps out the sliding glass door. Fresh snow covered her tracks from earlier, but to be safe, she snatched the rake leaning against the house and walked backward, making sure to smooth away her steps. Once she reached the tree-line at the edge of her yard, she turned and jogged through the cover of trees, the urn in one hand and the rake in the other. Within minutes, she was near the sign leading into their subdivision.

  Her salvation awaited inside the warm confines of Kevin’s SUV parked across the street. Reaching the vehicle, she held up the rake, and Kevin exited, running to the tailgate. He opened it and she tossed in the rake without a word. Neither of them said anything as they ran to the doors and jumped in.

  Kevin pulled onto the highway. They rode in silence for several miles. He knew what she’d done. There was no need to talk about it. As the adrenaline rush waned, the impact of what she had done slammed into Angie’s mind. A killer. She’d committed cold-blooded, premeditated, perfectly executed murder.

  Twice.

  Like father, like daughter.

  Angie shuddered when they passed the spot where the accident happened. She tried, but couldn’t stop her body from shaking.

  Kevin noticed Angie’s apprehension. Making sure his voice was calm, soothing, he said, “It’s okay, Angie. I’ve always had your back. Always. I’ll get you home soon. Don’t worry.”

  For the first time in days, Angie relaxed a bit, leaning her head back against the warm seat. “Aunt Miriam…?”

  “Fine. The call’s been made, just like we planned. Cops should arrive soon at Drake’s. Well, depending on the roads.”

  Angie stared through the windshield and watched the snow float to the ground. Soon the snow would melt and become a distant memory to all who witnessed it. Just like she would. And Drake. And her father. Angela Renee Langford Benson was gone, her life cut short by tragedy. Cremated with the tiny corpse of her unborn daughter, remembered by no one except those who truly loved her.

  She could live with that. Would live with that. After all, she didn’t do this only for herself. She looked over at Kevin, her rock, the man who believed the unbelievable, who helped her overcome obstacles that should have killed her soul. Risked his life and his livelihood to help Angie obtain her revenge. The one who helped fill in the gaps to her plan. Her amazing cousin had accomplished so much in such a short time. Kevin had wheeled her out of the hospital in a body bag after playing the role of Dr. Hope with uncanny accuracy. Held Angie in the hospital bed while she sobbed after he broke the news of her mother’s death. Took care of her mother’s remains without question. Her mother’s suicide was the final, last cord tethering her to the part of her mind that whispered her plans were wrong. Nearly broke her. But, it was her wonderful cousin who took her to Aunt Miriam’s house so she could hide and recover until all her plans were completed.

  The part that struck her the most was when Kevin told her that he and his mother had known for awhile that her father had killed Amelia. Before Kevin’s own father passed away, while on his deathbed, he finally told his wife and son the reason he hated his brother-in-law, Jerome, so much. One night, right after her mother’s first breakdown and stint in a hospital, Uncle Cliff had gone to check on Jerome. Found him drunk in his study, crying at his desk, sobbing about what he’d done to Amelia.

  Afraid of what the news would do to his psychologically fragile sister-in-law, Clifford Stephens never told a soul until the day before he died. So, when Angie told Kevin about what she remembered while in a coma, he believed every word. After he related what he knew to be true, it solidified Angie’s decision to carry out her plans.

  Yes, to make good on the promise he had made to her over thirty years ago, her cousin had risked everything for her. And Angie loved him for it.

  “Thank you, Kevin. I don’t…”

  Kevin shook his head. “No… don’t… Just rest now. You need all your strength and wits about you. This isn’t all over yet. You know that. Besides, family doesn’t need to thank family for being family, right?”

  Angie bit her lip to keep her tears inside. He was right, and she knew it. She needed to mentally prepare for the role of a lifetime. It was one thing to mask her real identity from others, hidden by clothes, sunglasses and a veil. Pulling it off in front of the police was another. She had to think of the right words to say without saying much. Once she did, it would be over.

  Kevin and Aunt Miriam were all she had left, and they would work together as one unit to get beyond the betrayal. The sorrow. The immense damage to all their souls. Then, finally, the entire nightmare needed to be buried. Locked away and never discussed again. Wrongs had been righted. Penance paid.

  “Right. Hey, you remember how much it used to annoy your parents when we’d be in the back seat, asking repeatedly are we there yet?”

  Kevin smiled at her and reached across the space between and patted her hand. “Don’t you dare start that!”

  “I won’t. Because I already know the answer. Almost there…”

  11

  Silencing the Voices

  Angie sat in silence, staring at the note in her lap. Part of her wanted to throw it away, but she couldn’t. It was her last tie to her mother, so she would keep it, no matter how much it pained her to read the words. Shifting her glance, her gaze settled on the beautiful jar with an ornate lid on the table next to her. The solid silver urn held what was left of her mother and child, their ashes intermingled with each other. Forever. The words on the fine white paper burned in her mind. Seared into her memory banks, they would remain a part of her until she died.

  Amelia and my granddaughter need me. Going to take care of them.

  Twelve simple words, written in her mother’s flowing handwriting. Twelve words wiping out an entire life. Raising her misty eyes from her lap, Angie looked at the bed. The place where her mother took her last breath after downing an entire bottle of pills. Her mother waited until the middle of the night, not even twenty-four hours after her father had dumped her off. Poor Aunt Miriam found her beloved sister early the next afternoon.

  The same afternoon Angie woke up.

  Oh, just one day earlier…

  “Honey, could you come here for a moment?”

  Angie wiped the tears f
rom her face, careful to miss the still tender spots on her forehead and cheeks. Turning around, she saw Aunt Miriam in the doorway. A sharp sting of sorrow punched a hole in her chest. God, they look enough alike to be twins.

  It was time. She could tell from the look on Aunt Miriam’s face. “Be right back, you two. Love you,” Angie said, kissing the top of the urn. Folding her mother’s last words, she slid them under the pillow.

  Aunt Miriam held the door open and they walked out into the hallway. Kevin stood in the doorway to his old room, smiling. “Time for me to transform you. That call earlier was the one we’ve been waiting for.”

  Angie glanced at Aunt Miriam, who nodded in agreement. In a quiet voice, Miriam responded, “A detective called. Said he needed to talk to your mother. He’ll be here in an hour.”

  A spark of worry sent a chill down Angie’s spine. “Did you tell him…?”

  Miriam put her hand on Angie’s arm and gave it a reassuring rub. “Of course, dear. Already laid the groundwork. I explained the fragile state Mrs. Annette Langford is in.”

  Kevin offered, “I made sure to bring it up while they questioned me yesterday. Told them everything like we planned. Stop worrying! We’ve got this.”

  Angie smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Come on, cuz. Need to work my magic.”

  Angie’s legs trembled as she walked into Kevin’s room.

  Kevin ushered her to the chair near the dresser and patted Angie’s shoulder. “Stop shaking, or it will take me longer. Like I said before, you’ve got this. Then, it will truly be over.”

  Nodding, Angie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Kevin began, his fingers moving over her face with practiced ease, mindful of the tender spots. He couldn’t help but smile as he transformed daughter into mother.

  Three hours later, it was all over. Finally… The detective had arrived. Spoke in a professional, hushed voice as he relayed that Dr. Jerome Langford was dead, along with her son-in-law. A few times he struggled to find the right words to say. Angie played the role of her mother as a destroyed, broken woman with gusto. In truth, it wasn’t actually an act. It was the first time she really released the pain inside her heart. The plus side was it allowed her to bury her head in Kevin’s strong shoulder for most of the visit, allowing her to keep her face hidden. When the detective broached the subject of murder, and what the investigation concluded, even he choked up a few times.

  Angie’s worries about the potassium chloride and Kevin’s role as Dr. Hope were vanquished when the detective finished. She watched him rise from his spot on the couch, hand his business card to Aunt Miriam, mumble his apologies. Mentioned names and numbers of support groups, and again, how sorry he was for what had happened. Angie played her part well, shaking his hand, thanking him for coming in person. For his honesty and kindness under such trying circumstances. Aunt Miriam escorted him to the front door, and in minutes, she returned.

  Alone.

  The three of them sat in silence, each one grappled internally with the news. Though the autopsy of Drake Benson showed high levels of potassium chloride in his system and a needle mark on his neck, it was concluded Dr. Jerome Langford injected him with it at the same time the gun was fired. According to the detective, they’d checked the medication room at the doctor’s office, and two vials were missing. Kevin never actually signed the death certificate as Dr. Hope, only faked it. The only two signatures were that of Dr. Jerome Langford, attending physician, and Lita Kendrick, witness. The detective never once mentioned anything about Dr. Hope, and none of them dared ask. Since Lita had been so upset, it was among the realm of possibilities she forgot he’d been in the room. However, Angie didn’t believe that. Lita was too good of a nurse. The most likely scenario was simple: the detectives didn’t know about Dr. Hope, so they never thought to inquire about him. Lita simply didn’t bring him up.

  The detective’s final report concluded exactly the way Angie had envisioned it. The case was closed and the bodies were released for burial. Drake Benson’s actions eventually killed his wife. His father-in-law figured it out, decided to take justice into his own hands and succeeded, only to end up losing his life in the process. The detective warned the entire family about the media. Cautioned that once he released the final report, the newshounds would be at their door. Actually suggested they use a family spokesperson to deal with the reporters, maybe even leave for a while. Pull themselves together as a family. Grieve in private, away from the constant intrusion into their personal lives.

  Which was precisely what they had planned. In two days, they would be on a flight heading to Limon International Airport. A much-needed vacation in the beautiful country of Costa Rica to recoup from the nightmare.

  The last thing she’d said to the detective rang through Angie’s mind. “I want to spread the ashes of my family there. Let the waters of the Pacific carry them to paradise. Let the painful memories float away on the trade winds.”

  The man hadn’t said a word in response, only gave a slight nod of his head in agreement.

  Angie broke the stillness in the living room first. “Kevin?”

  “Yes?”

  Angie took a deep, cleansing breath, letting the action clear her overtaxed mind. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her fingers against her temples, hoping to ease the throbbing headache. “Did you pick up all the things I asked you to from Mom’s?”

  Kevin nodded. “Yes. All safe and sound in my closet.”

  Though she tried, Angie couldn’t bring her lips to form a smile. It just seemed wrong at this point. For a moment, she wondered if there would ever be a time in the future when it would feel right. Voice hoarse from crying, she said, “Thank you. Would you mind bringing me Mom’s checkbook? I have some checks to write out.”

  Kevin rose from the chair and headed toward the hallway. “Of course.”

  Once gone, Angie looked over at Aunt Miriam. In the last two weeks, it seemed her sweet aunt had aged twenty years. Her face was ashy, the sheen gone from her gray hair. Thin shoulders sagged under the weight of the nightmare. An air of sadness cloaked her normally bubbly demeanor. She looked at least ten pounds lighter, and Aunt Miriam didn’t need to lose any weight. A twinge of guilt at involving both Kevin and her aunt in her plans made Angie’s stomach roll.

  Miriam noticed her niece staring, worry etched across her brow. A lump of hot tears formed in her throat. Kevin did a fine job. It’s like I’m staring at Annette’s ghost. Rising from her perch on the couch, Miriam crossed the room and sat down next to Angie. “Honey, please don’t look at me like that. I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. Kevin and I wanted to be a part of righting the wrongs done to all of us. Those two men ruined so many lives. Took many lives. My husband suffered for years in silence. Can’t prove it, but I believe the nasty secret ate Clifford’s insides away, causing him to die so young. And your mother, God rest her soul,” Miriam stopped, cleared her throat of the heavy lump of tears before continuing. “She never got over losing Amelia. And you! Lord, child, you buried your pain, what you saw, all your life. It kept you from truly living. You only existed. Now you can live.”

  Angie looked into the eyes of the woman she considered more than an Aunt. Miriam was, and always had been, like a second mother. The strange thoughts she’d experienced while in a coma about life, death, what being alive really meant, sped to the forefront of her mind. Her plans all along, from the minute she regained consciousness, was to get her revenge, and then do the same exact thing her mother had: end her life. Join her loved ones on the other side. Living with the pain, the sorrow, the unbelievable betrayal, wasn’t what she’d wanted. Upon awakening, her mind had been controlled by two things: revenge and fury.

  She didn’t acknowledge Kevin as he sat down next to her, placing the checkbook in her lap. Aunt Miriam’s loving gaze never left her own, and Angie could feel the love pulsating from both her aunt and cousin. It was in that moment, the split second of time, her comatose questions were answered, an
d her plans changed.

  Being alive means another day to try and make things right. Plain and simple. I won’t add a final, sour note to what Dad and Drake did. Won’t let these tragedies define who I am. Who we are as a family. I can’t. We will go to Costa Rica as planned, but I won’t let it end by following the ashes of Mom and my daughter into the waters. The three of us will pull together as a family. Heal.

  Kevin watched with a heavy heart as his beloved cousin fought the monsters inside her shattered mind. He could see the emotions tearing Angie apart. Unsure what he could say, or do, to reach her, Kevin simply opted to hug her tight. His thick, muscular arms swallowed up Angie’s frail body as he pulled her into his chest. He closed his eyes as tears streamed down his face, but not before he saw the same fall from his mother’s eyes. Within seconds, he felt his mother add her thin arms and body to the pile. Angie was sandwiched between them. Kevin said a silent prayer, hoping the warmth of their embrace would bring Angie some sort of peace.

  “Okay, can’t breathe in here,” Angie muttered, her face smashed against Kevin’s strong chest. Kevin and Aunt Miriam both laughed, immediately letting go. Angie took a gulp of air, wiping her tears away. “I’ve picked the two charities I want the insurance proceeds from…” Angie couldn’t stand the thought of saying father and husband, “…the policies to go to. Parents of Murdered Children will receive Jerome’s policy proceeds, and Drake’s will go to the Pulaski County Battered Women’s Shelter. Anonymously, of course. Kevin, will you take care of things for me?”

  Choking back his tears, Kevin replied, “Angie, no need to ask. You know I will. I think both choices are perfect.”