by Debra Webb
“It may be sealed as a crime scene after what happened there this past weekend.”
Laney/Lisa, her younger sister, had come there to find her son, who Clare and Weeden had taken. There had been a shootout and a Colby Agency investigator had been shot. She’d seen some fleeting mention of the shooting on the news but it hadn’t been in the major papers. Russ had told her about it, giving her details the news had not.
“I don’t care. I need to see that closet.”
He didn’t protest further. He drove. Olivia closed her eyes, unable to deal with any more visual stimulation. And she needed to think. Who was the blonde Mrs. Samson had seen? Could she have been Janet Tolliver, Clare’s sister? If there had been another woman at the house besides her mother, wouldn’t she remember that? Why had this news not triggered anything new? Why couldn’t Olivia remember her one friend, Josie? Or her friend’s mother, Mrs. Samson? She rubbed her thumb across the images in the photograph she held but couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes and look at the smiling faces, the seemingly happy faces. But she hadn’t been happy. A happy child remembered her childhood.
Olivia wasn’t sure how many minutes passed. One or ten, the time ran together in one clump of misery. When he braked to a stop and shut off the engine she opened her eyes. The big old house loomed before her, its white siding grayed with age and neglect. The house sat a good distance off the road, bordered on either side by massive trees that shaded its rusting tin roof. Beyond the house she could barely see a portion of another roof, its shape barnlike. The clinic.
The sound of his door opening prodded her from the uncertainty paralyzing her. She opened her door and climbed out. The ankle-deep grass rushed across the yard and surrounded the house with its crippled porch that leaned to one side. Most of the windows had been partially boarded up, giving an even creepier feel to the place. The air was still and silent as if it too waited for her next move.
So much tragedy had happened here. It was a miracle the stench of evil didn’t linger in the air. She walked toward the porch, dragging the thick, humid air into her lungs. On the porch the floorboards creaked as she followed Russ to the door.
“We should check the back door. Entering from the rear will give us cover from anyone passing by.”
She nodded in agreement. His words didn’t really penetrate. She was drinking in the details. Abandoned birds’ nests and cobwebs decorated the sagging porch ceiling. The posts and rails were in bad need of repair and no longer provided the intended structural integrity.
As they moved around the rear corner of the house, Olivia stalled. An old swing set waited beneath one of the ancient trees. The colors were faded and rust had overtaken parts but it seemed familiar. Laughter whispered through her mind. They had played here, she and her sisters.
The barn-turned-clinic sat several yards back from the house. In between was a rock-skirted well. The old-fashioned sort with a rusty, banged-up bucket and a frayed rope. An old crank handle remained where someone had left it the last time water had been drawn.
Another massive tree had grown up against the house as if it had been small when the house had been built and no one had noticed it taking over. Limbs pressed against the siding. The sound those limbs would make when the wind blew scraped across her mind. The sound had terrified them as kids. An abrupt Texas summer storm would have it rubbing and clawing at the house as if it were intent on getting inside.
His weapon in hand, Russ led the way across a screened-in back porch and into the house through the rear entrance. So far they had seen no sign of the house being sealed as a crime scene. The once boarded up door stood ajar as if no one cared who entered.
Inside there were more cobwebs and dust covered most every surface, including the worn linoleum floor. The table had been wiped free of dust and the remains of sandwiches that would soon be moldy lay on paper plates. A chest-type cooler sat on the floor. Clare and Weeden had been here for more than a simple visit. Apparently they’d been hoping to use the place as a hideout.
“Stay behind me,” Russ instructed as he moved forward into the darker interior.
A flashlight switched on. She hadn’t realized he’d brought one along. Between the musty smell and the creeps this place was giving her, she was glad at least one of them was thinking clearly. The utter silence was spine chilling. She hugged herself and stayed as close to him as possible.
The hallway from the kitchen led to the front door. Off the hall as they neared the front door were two large rooms, one on either side. The stairs to the second floor looked less than reliable even in the dim lighting.
Russ moved carefully up the stairs, checking each tread as he went. At the top of the stairs was a bathroom. To the right was a single door. Her parents’ room. She didn’t have to go inside; the certainty was palpable. The sensations of betrayal and deception were nearly overwhelming. She did not want to go in there. To the left were two more doors. One that led to a room on the back side of the house and one that opened to a room on the front.
The room on the front was just a bedroom. A single bed and a bureau. She hesitated before moving back into the hall. For a long moment she stood at what she assumed was a closet door. Her hand shaking, she reached out and opened it. Inside were ropes and chains. Twisted articles of clothing. She closed the door. Didn’t want to analyze what that meant.
Down the hall was the final room, the one that backed up to the big tree. She opened the door and sensations and images assaulted her senses. The room was pink. There was one full-size bed, a dresser and toys scattered across the wood floor. Olivia could hear the tree branches rubbing the house…she could smell the scents of the baby shampoo her mother had used to wash their hair and the soap she’d used on their skin.
The bubbles and the splashing water as they bathed together felt as warm and real as if it were happening at that very moment. She could see the images as plainly as if she were watching a movie. Clare would laugh with them, scrub their shivering bodies with a big fluffy white towel. Then she’d dress them in matching pajamas and usher them off to bed.
They would play and giggle beneath the covers until they fell asleep…only to be awakened hours later by the screaming.
Olivia turned to the closet. Their hiding place. The secret place that protected them from the monster. She walked across the room and reached for the knob. Her hand shook.
Russ was suddenly beside her, his hand on the small of her back. “I’m right here,” he murmured.
She had never in her life been more relieved to have backup. “Thank you.”
Olivia opened the door and Russ ran the flashlight over the small space. Bead board walls and ceiling, like the rest of the house. Cobwebs and dust covered every surface. It was so much smaller than she remembered…cramped.
She turned to Russ. “I need to do something.” She moistened her lips and grappled for the courage. “Stay right here, please.” The notion of being left alone in this place was abruptly terrifying.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
Olivia stepped inside the closet and pulled the door closed. Total darkness consumed her. She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. This had been their safe place. The monster couldn’t touch them here. It had seemed so big as a child…like a room, but it was nothing more than a closet. A tiny closet where three children had cowered from the danger.
The whoosh of fear came out of nowhere. Suddenly Olivia was five again and her sisters were huddled against her sobbing softly, their little bodies shivering with fear. She couldn’t block the screaming…the words of supplication that she now recognized as fervent prayer. The blackness started to spin and spin and spin. Olivia couldn’t catch her breath.
She would see the blood when she opened the door. It was always there… . She saw it every time in her dreams. She didn’t want to open the door. Didn’t want to see the blood. But if doing this would trigger more memories, she had no choice.
Her hand shaking, she reached out and twisted
the knob. The latch snapped, the door creaked open and her mother smiled at her. She was wearing a pink dress with little white flowers. Her hair was long and blond, her feet were bare. She looked young and pretty, the way she had when Olivia was five.
“Don’t worry, baby, it’s okay now.”
Olivia’s gaze lowered, followed as her mother got down on her hands and knees on the floor. There was a bucket of sudsy, steaming water. Her mother reached into the bucket and pulled out a scrub brush and started rubbing at the blood pooled on the scarred wood floor.
“It was just an accident, baby, don’t be afraid.”
The room started to spin harder and faster and then it went black.
Chapter Twelve
Russ caught Olivia before she crumpled to the floor. The flashlight bounced and rolled, sending its beam of light circling around the dimly lit room.
“I’ve got you.” He gathered her into his arms, but she stirred and started to struggle. “You’re okay, Olivia. We’re getting out of here.”
Olivia stopped struggling and rested her head against his shoulder. He glanced at the flashlight but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.
He angled and sidled out the door of the bedroom she and her sisters had shared long ago, then he moved more quickly down the hall. The stairs he took more slowly since, under their combined weight, the treads gave a little more than he would have liked. By the time they reached the kitchen he was mentally cursing himself for bringing her here. The dampness of her tears on his neck made him want to drive to the prison and beat the hell out of her monster of a father.
A deep breath wasn’t possible until they were safely outside in the fading sunlight. There were still a couple of good hours of daylight left but he had no desire to hang around here a minute longer. Olivia had had enough for one day.
She lifted her head and swiped at her eyes. “I’m fine now.”
He settled her onto her feet and she swayed. “You sure about that?” She looked about as fine as a rosebush after a hailstorm. Shaky, torn and frazzled.
After a deep breath, she nodded. “My mother was cleaning up blood from the floor and she kept telling me it was just an accident and for me not to be afraid.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “The things that happened here…” She stared up at the old house. “I can’t remember specific events but even in my five-year-old mind I recognized it was bad…really bad.”
She hugged her arms around her middle and turned away. “My mother might not have killed any of those little girls but she cleaned up the mess at the very least. She enabled him and this—this house of horrors.”
“You can’t be sure of those snippets of memory,” he reminded her gently. No matter whether she said it out loud or not, some part of her needed to believe that one or the other of her biological parents was inherently good. No child wanted to feel they’d come from pure evil, and that little five-year-old girl who still lived deep inside Olivia didn’t want to, either.
“I’m sure enough,” she argued. “I’m certain of something else, too.” She fixed a determined gaze on him. “I want to see the place where they found the bodies.”
That really was a bad idea. Before he could stop her she was already marching toward the woods. “Don’t put yourself through that, Olivia. It won’t change anything.” It was possible she could remember more but was it worth the torture? Would it change the facts and how those facts impacted her heart and her life?
She whipped around and glared at him. “I don’t know why they didn’t burn this place down.” She shifted her furious look to the house. “It shouldn’t still be standing. That’s what I know for an absolute certainty.”
“The families of several of the victims bought the place and closed it up so they could ensure no one ever lived here again. Not in this house or one that was built in its place.”
“What was the point in that?” She flung her arms upward in frustration. “It’s here. A tragic monument to murder. Can’t they see that?”
Russ couldn’t pretend to know how those families felt so he offered what he could. “Maybe they believe that some part of their children’s spirits will forever be attached to this place. Maybe they can’t bear the idea of burning down that possibility. This was the last place they were alive. Maybe the survivors need that connection. Or maybe they just hope some kind of answers will eventually be found here about the remains still unaccounted for.”
Olivia shook her head and turned to the woods. She was determined to go in there and see what she could find. He didn’t try to stop her; the attempt would be futile. Keeping an eye out for trouble, he followed. It was his job to keep her safe but she wasn’t making it easy.
The canopy overhead was thick enough to block a good portion of the sun. A few streaks of daylight managed to filter through the mass of trees. The former gravesites were located only a couple hundred yards from the clinic, directly behind the house. But twenty years of underbrush and saplings had obscured them. He felt fairly certain she wouldn’t find what she was looking for but she needed to see that for herself.
She wound through the trees, plowing through the brush as if her life depended on accomplishing her goal. Emotion was driving her and nothing he said or did would make this right. As the oldest, the past was a far greater burden for Olivia. Her sisters had accepted what they could not change and appeared to be moving on. The task would be far more difficult for the oldest. She felt a sense of responsibility that wouldn’t be shaken quite so easily.
As much as Russ wanted to be sensitive to that, lingering in the woods this way made keeping her safe far more difficult for him and her safety needed to be priority one just now. As vigilant as his surveillance, there were too many hiding places for trouble out here for his liking.
“Come on, Olivia, too much time has passed. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for and we need to be on our way before dark.”
She turned on him, directing her frustration and her anger his way. “You don’t understand how this feels.” She started forward once more. “I need to do—” She stumbled, went down face-first.
He cut through the brush and was at her side before she could drag up onto her hands and knees. “We should go now. You’ve put yourself through enough for today. We’ll come back early in the morning if you still feel this is necessary.”
Ignoring him completely, she swept the leaves away from the ground in front of her. “I think I found something.”
A flat stone, partially buried in the earth, had a kneeling angel carved into its surface. He hadn’t read anything about the grave sites having been marked. Maybe one or more of the families had done this later. All the remains found had, of course, been removed and claimed by the families for proper burial. But this place was where their children’s remains had rested for months and years.
The reality had his gut churning. All that time those girls were missing, their families and the police searching and searching, hoping against hope they were still alive. And they were right here…in a monster’s backyard.
Olivia sat back on her heels. “Oh, my God. This is it.” She scanned the woods around her. “The remains were discovered in unmarked graves very close together.” She gestured to the area in front of her. “See how there aren’t any big trees, just smaller ones? This is it.”
On their hands and knees, they prowled through the brush, feeling for more of the stones. “Found one,” he called out to her. Their gazes met across the small span and his heart lurched. Her face looked so pale. Her heart was breaking for the young girls who had been buried here, their lives cut short by an evil bastard.
The evil bastard who was Olivia’s father.
It was almost dark by the time they found the last one.
Olivia’s hands and knees were covered in dirt. The skirt she’d bought last night was ruined and dotted with decaying leaves but she didn’t care.
Eight stones for eight little angels who had once rested here.
At som
e point in the past two decades the families had stopped coming and to this unholy place. They’d been forced to move on. Their daughters were gone and coming back here wasn’t going to give them the answers they sought.
Whatever she found, Olivia wondered if it would give her any peace.
She stood and brushed off her skirt and attempted to do the same to her knees. Not happening. The dirt might very well be hiding the fact that both knees were skinned from scrubbing around on the ground.
She should be more like her sisters and dress in jeans more often, she thought. Her hands paused in their work. Had her sisters come here and looked at this place? Laney had come to find her son, but had she taken a long, hard look? Had they studied the sickening details of this rotting monument to their painful history? If they hadn’t maybe it was better for them. If they remembered nothing at all about this place and that time they were far better off in Olivia’s opinion.
There was nothing here worth remembering.
Russ walked over to her and reached for her hand. His were as filthy as her own but their strength and warmth felt good to hold onto. The knees of his jeans would never be the same. His black shirt hadn’t handled the abuse well, either. He’d left the Stetson in the SUV, which had probably saved it from a similar fate.
“I’m taking you out of here even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”
He meant what he said, too. Her eyes had long ago adjusted to the scant and sporadic sprinkling of light, allowing her to see his expression. “You won’t get any argument out of me this time.” She was beat. As crazy as it sounded, she felt as if she actually had accomplished something important. She had acknowledged those who’d lost their lives here and she’d needed to do that. She’d needed to feel the dirt between her fingers and to know that despite the insanity of this hellacious place she had survived. Whatever the truth was, she owed it to those who had not survived to find it and reveal it to the world.
