The Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Series Box Set 2

by Willow Rose

  “Dad, I’m tired,” he said. “Can we go home now?”

  Matt smiled and ran a hand across the boy’s hair. “What happened to the movie you were watching?”

  “It stopped because of some breaking news or something.”

  Matt nodded. “I’m beat too, son. Let me just finish this beer, and then we’ll go back to the house.”

  Chapter 6

  THEN:

  Somehow, it had always been like Roy and his mother knew their time together on this earth was limited—even before she got sick. He couldn’t explain how he knew; he just did. And he could see it in her eyes as well when she looked at him with such deep compassion while her hand gently stroked his hair. It was like she wanted to take all of him in while she still could.

  Roy suffered from Asthmatic Bronchitis as a young child, and his mother would let him sleep with her in her bed to be able to keep an eye on him at night. Even when he outgrew his asthma, and the attacks stopped, she still insisted he sleep with her. It didn’t stop until he was eleven, and that wasn’t because of him. The only reason it stopped was that she could no longer get up the stairs to her bedroom.

  Her respiratory system was failing her. The cancer was growing in her lungs.

  From that day on, she slept in a chair in the living room, and Roy moved to the couch. From there, it was now his turn to keep an eye on her at night, and he’d stay awake, watching her breathing, afraid she’d slip away in the night.

  On the day she did pass on to the great unknown, they were watching TV together. Roy had noticed her eyes kept rolling back in her head. It was a Saturday, and he had slept in, eaten some cereal, and then he had found a bag of chips that he devoured on the couch while staring at his mother’s hands. Roy had always loved his mom’s hands. Throughout his childhood, they had been used for soothing him when he was upset or hurt. They had stroked his hair and cheeks so much or had held him when he was sad or scared. When much younger, he’d sometimes play with them in his, measuring the length of his fingers against hers, or sometimes just hugging it close to his cheek to feel them close. Throughout the years, he had watched her hands grow bonier, the skin sagging, and the veins popping out on top. He remembered the first time she passed out in the living room, and he found her face down in the carpet. When she was taken to the hospital on the stretcher, her hands had been dangling by the sides of the stretcher, limp, lifeless.

  Now, as they were watching TV, she reached out one of them and reached for his. He placed it into her hand, and she squeezed it. Roy looked down at their hands, intertwined, as she squeezed it again, and her eyes rolled back in her head once more.

  “M-mom?”

  Her hand gave his a squeeze. Her eyes were strained, as she was obviously fighting to stay conscious, her eyeballs spinning in their sockets.

  “Mom, I’m here.”

  Roy lifted her silky soft hand to his lips, then kissed the top of it. Her eyes rolled back in her head once more, and he wondered how much she sensed…if she knew he was even there. He sat there watching her breathe for a few minutes when suddenly she ran out of breaths to take.

  “Mom?”

  He touched her shoulder, and her head fell forward, slumped. Roy gasped and pulled away when his dad came into the living room. He put his hand on Roy’s shoulder. Roy had never liked his dad’s hands much. They were nothing like his mother’s. His were rough and big and couldn’t comfort him.

  “Is she…?” he asked and looked up at his dad, who in the bright light from outside was nothing but a dark shadow.

  The shadow nodded.

  “Yes, son. We knew this day would come. The cancer ate her up. She has found peace, finally. Now, it’s just the two of us. But at least we have each other, right?”

  Roy nodded and stifled his tears like he knew his dad would want him to.

  His father was right, he decided. At least they had one another. At least he wasn’t left completely alone in this world.

  Chapter 7

  Sydney called right after I had put Alex to bed and kissed Christine and Olivia goodnight and told them not to stay up too late. It was summer break, and they didn’t have school anymore. As a matter of fact, none of them had been to school since March because of the Coronavirus that had closed down the entire country for several months. Once they started to open up again, the school term was over. We’d had some tough months, all being cooped up inside, doing online schooling. Especially Alex, who had the energy of an Energizer Bunny, was bouncing off the walls. I took him to the beach, and he went surfing every day, getting some of that energy burned off, but persuading him to do schoolwork wasn’t easy. He just wanted to go surfing constantly. He had daily calls with his teachers, who encouraged him to do his best, but little did it help. Surfing seemed to be the only thing making him happy these days, so I took him to the beach as much as I could when the waves were good. Luckily, they never closed the beaches around here. You could still do activities like biking, walking, surfing, and running. That decision was my rescue. I wouldn’t have survived otherwise with that boy inside the house; that’s for sure.

  “She told us her name,” Sydney said. “It’s Amber.”

  I walked to the bathroom. I was wearing PJs and had a toothbrush in my mouth. I spat in the sink. “That was fast.”

  “She’s finally sleeping now. She wouldn’t let go of me once we got to the house, so I stayed. She needed to talk, so we did. She knows who I am and has seen many of my movies. I just left her room. I’m gonna sleep here tonight, so I can be here in the morning if she needs me. She’s quite the character. Strong.”

  “I kind of got that feeling when I saw her jump her captor from behind,” I said, laughing. “That girl has got guts.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet her properly.”

  “Did they drug her?” I asked after rinsing my mouth with water and putting the toothbrush in its holder.

  “They did. We’ll have Dr. Martin look at her tomorrow. She hasn’t had her period for months, she says. She could be with child.”

  “Where is she from?” I asked and dried my mouth.

  “North Dakota. She says she can’t go back. Her mother and her boyfriend were the ones who sold her to the traffickers to get rid of her and to get money for drugs.”

  “Oh, dear,” I said. The worst part was that I wasn’t surprised. I had heard so many stories like Amber’s before.

  “Let’s talk more tomorrow,” Sydney said, yawning. “I am beyond beat and want to sleep.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “You did something good today, Eva Rae,” Sydney said. “You saved that girl.”

  “It’s not over yet,” I said. “The next few weeks will determine the rest of her life. What you do is just as important, nurturing them back to life. Creating a connection to these girls is so vital.”

  “Good night.”

  “Night.”

  I hung up with a deep sigh and walked back into my bedroom. As I crawled under the covers, I couldn’t help thinking that, to me, it seemed Sydney was happier and prouder doing this work than from any movie she had ever made. I couldn’t help wondering if she had finally found her true calling in life.

  I had just closed my eyes and drifted off into oblivion when a car drove up into my driveway and parked.

  When the doorbell rang, the sound became just a part of my dream.

  Chapter 8

  Jessica stared into the darkness. On the street outside, a car passed, lighting up the room swiftly before disappearing again. Jessica sighed and looked at the clock next to her bed. The house had finally gone quiet. Dad had gone to bed, and he and mom had yelled at one another for about ten minutes or so before they finally went silent. They hadn’t made a noise for at least half an hour now, so Jessica assumed they had fallen asleep.

  She sat up in the darkness and hugged her knees. Her cheek was still burning from the slap she had received after dinner. She had dropped the glass on the floor when she saw the breaking news on T
V. It had slid out of her hand and shattered across the tiles. But worst of all, it had woken up Dad, and he had been angry as a bear.

  “What on earth are you doing, child?” he had yelled, then risen to his feet and staggered toward her.

  Jessica had stared at the screen and barely looked at him, her knees shaking, her heart pounding. It wasn’t until the slap fell that she was pulled out of her paralyzed state. She had looked up at Dad and tears rolled down her cheek—not because of the slap, but because of what she had seen.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  Jessica felt her cheek gently, then placed her feet on the carpet. She was already fully dressed. Maya was sleeping heavily in the bed next to hers as Jessica stood and pulled her backpack from underneath the bed. It had everything she needed in it—her wallet with the little money she had been able to save up from stealing a bill from her mom or dad now and then while they were drunk and sometimes left a five-dollar bill out and forgot about it. She had also been walking the neighbor’s dog once a week for the past year and earned herself ten dollars a month for that. She never spent any of it and never told her parents she earned anything since they’d just take it from her and use it on booze. The backpack also contained some clothes. Jessica didn’t own a phone like most girls her age since her parents never let her have one, even though she begged them. But she had packed some snacks: some bags of chips and some candy and breakfast bars. That should keep her going for a little while.

  She swung the backpack over her shoulder, then walked to her sister’s bed and placed a hand over her mouth.

  Her sister’s eyes shot open, and she groaned behind the hand.

  “Shh,” Jessica said.

  The girl went quiet, and finally, Jessica removed her hand. Maya stared at her.

  “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

  Maya’s eyes became fearful. “You’re leaving?”

  Jessica bit her lip so she wouldn’t cry. This was the hardest part, leaving her baby sister, whom she loved so dearly and had taken care of since they were very young. She was her everything.

  “I have to. I can’t stay here.”

  Maya sat up. “But…you can’t just leave me here?”

  “Shh,” Jessica said. “Mom and Dad can’t hear us, okay? This is important. Now, you promise me you’ll be careful while I’m gone. Hide when Dad throws things and when he yells at Mom. Don’t get in between them. And if Mom becomes unresponsive, what do you do?”

  Maya sobbed. “Call 911, then go hide in the cabinet in the hallway till they get here.”

  Jessica smiled, relieved, then leaned over and kissed her sister.

  “I love you.”

  “Dad will beat you when you come back,” she said. “He’ll beat me to tell him where you went.”

  That was the part that hurt the most…leaving Maya in the hands of that bastard, not knowing when she could come back to protect her.

  “I’m sorry for doing this, but you have to trust me. Do you trust me, Maya?”

  She sobbed again, then nodded.

  “I trust you.”

  Jessica kissed her sister on the forehead, told her she loved her, then grabbed her backpack and walked out of their room, keeping the picture of the red-haired woman in the front pocket of her backpack. She snuck downstairs and into the panic-room in the basement. Here, she opened the safe, using the passcode she had seen Dad use, then took out the gun he had kept there for years. She put the gun in her backpack, closed the safe, and left out the front door, making sure to close it so silently it wouldn’t wake anyone.

  Chapter 9

  “Mom, someone’s at the door.”

  I blinked, trying to focus. It was Olivia. She was standing by the side of my bed.

  “Mom?”

  I sat up, feeling confused. “I was sleeping; what time is it?”

  “It’s one in the morning,” she said. “The doorbell has been ringing non-stop. Couldn’t you hear it?”

  I shook my head like I was trying to get the loose pieces to fall into place inside of it. “Someone’s at the door? At this hour? Who is it?”

  My daughter growled, annoyed. “You think I’d go open the door at one in the morning? How stupid do you think I am?”

  I rose out of bed as the doorbell rang again. “No, of course not. Good thinking. I’ll check who it is. Go back to sleep.”

  I looked at my daughter, who was still dressed. She had probably been playing computer games with her friends until now.

  “Or at least go to bed, Olivia. It’s late.”

  My daughter growled something again, then went to her room and slammed the door shut. The doorbell was still ringing insistently like someone’s finger was stuck in it.

  “I’m coming; I’m coming,” I mumbled under my breath as I rushed down the stairs and hurried toward the door. I pulled it open, saying, “Someone better be dead!”

  The guy standing outside was tall and young—in his late-twenties, probably. He was wearing the very recognizable FBI blue jacket, the very same I had hanging in my closet upstairs as well.

  “You don’t mean that, do you?” he asked with a grin.

  “What?”

  “Someone better be dead?”

  “Well…no, I guess not. It’s just something you say. Who are you?”

  He reached out his hand, then stopped himself, since no one shook hands these days with the virus and all that. He was wearing a mask, but it was dangling underneath his chin, as most people did now, since everyone was getting tired of being careful.

  “Brad Shearer, FBI.”

  Even his name sounded annoying, but that was nothing compared to the smirk he had at one a.m. Everything about this guy rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was just the fact that he was ringing my doorbell at this hour.

  “Okay, Brad Shearer, FBI, what on God’s green Earth are you doing here? You do know people around here are asleep, right?”

  “Yes, and I am sorry for disturbing you, but I need your help. Can I come in?”

  I shook my head. “No, you can’t come in at one a.m. My kids are asleep. Or at least some of them are. What do you want?”

  “I need your help,” he said. “I assume you’ve heard about the Marshall kidnapping case?”

  I narrowed my eyes and had a major Deja-vu. “The Marshall kidnapping. Of course, I heard about it. I solved it. That was ten years ago. We closed the case. The guy’s on death row and will be executed this Friday. Why are you at my door in the middle of the night babbling about a case from ten years ago?”

  “You haven’t heard, then? It’s been all over the news tonight.”

  “I don’t watch the news, not since the Coronavirus. I got sick of all the fear. Heard what?”

  “It happened again.”

  I exhaled. I couldn’t really figure out what was up and what was down with this.

  “What happened again?” I asked. “The kids were killed back then. The murderer was convicted.”

  “But the Marshalls had another child,” he said. “A boy. And now he has disappeared too.”

  Chapter 10

  THEN:

  After Roy’s mom died, he was told he was depressed. It was his school that had him evaluated by a psychiatrist who told him this. He was being quiet in class and hardly ever did any of his work, they said. He had no friends either and didn’t seem interested in making any. They told his dad all this, and Roy’s father decided to try and make him happy. He took him on a trip to Disney World for an entire weekend, and they went on each and every ride in the park. It was a fun weekend, and Roy enjoyed himself for the most part. What he didn’t enjoy was when his dad’s phone kept ringing, and he had to take this. But Roy didn’t complain. Roy never complained.

  Then, one day, his dad came home late from work as usual and found Roy sitting alone in his room, reading his comics, also as usual.

  “Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” his dad said with a very unusual smile. There hadn’t been many of those sinc
e Roy’s mother died. Come to think of it, Roy believed it was the first one since that day.

  A frown grew between Roy’s eyes. He looked up from his comic.

  “Go out for dinner?”

  They hadn’t been out to eat since Roy’s mom got sick five years ago. Usually, they’d order a pizza or some Chinese takeout when his dad finally came home around eight or nine at night. They’d eat in silence; sometimes, Roy would even take his food to the living room where he’d eat while watching TV because it was so boring eating with his dad.

  What was this?

  “Yes, son. You and me out for dinner. There’s this nice Italian place downtown. It’s new. I thought we’d try it out. Dress nicely.”

  And with that, he left Roy’s room, and the boy heard him whistle as he walked down the hallway to his own room. Roy sat on his bed, puzzled, till he decided to do as he was told and get dressed. He found his nice white shirt that his mom always said he looked so handsome in. The sleeves were short, and the chest was tight, but it would have to do. It was the only nice shirt he had.

  “Great, now do something about that hair,” his dad said as he came back into his room. He brought with him a cloud of strong-smelling cologne. His dad touched Roy’s hair and tried to brush it sideways so it wouldn’t fall into his eyes.

  “We really should have this cut soon,” he said. “You look like a mess.”

  Roy pulled away.

  “Ah, well,” his dad said, putting his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “It’ll have to do.”

  “What’s the big deal anyway?” Roy asked and messed up his hair again so it’d look normal and fall in front of his eyes so no one could see all the pimples on his forehead or see how nervous he was from being out in public. Roy didn’t like being out among people much. He didn’t like it when anyone looked at him. He preferred to be in his room.