by Willow Rose
She walked down the stairs from the porch in front of the Green Turtle Tavern, then staggered across the gravel, realizing she might be a little drunker than she thought.
How can I be this drunk from just one beer? I didn’t even drink the entire thing?
Melanie tried to focus on the trail ahead of her, taking a shortcut to where she lived through a small bushy area. It felt like the Earth was moving beneath her, and her vision grew blurry.
As she spun around, tripping in her high heels and fell toward the ground, a set of strong arms grabbed her before she hit the gravel below.
Chapter Fifty
THEN:
They had let her go. For now, they said. But she’d have to go back in for more questioning in two days. Meanwhile, Jack was in the care of the DCF, and they had found a temporary home for him, where they weren’t allowed to visit until the case was fully investigated.
Marlene cried all the way home in the car, wondering about her poor son and whether she’d ever be allowed to see him again.
They can’t keep him away from me forever, can they?
She feared they might. And maybe it was the right thing. If her husband really had abused the boy and she hadn’t seen it, then she could hardly call herself a suitable mother, could she? She just couldn’t — for the life of her — understand how this could have happened without her at least suspecting it?
How could she have been so blind?
Or maybe she wasn’t blind at all. Had she, in fact, seen the signs and chosen to ignore them? Did she know it was happening somewhere deep down? Had she maybe just closed her eyes because it was too painful? Because she didn’t want to see it?
It didn’t seem possible. Yet, here they were.
As Marlene drove up the driveway, she took a deep breath when she saw Bruce’s car parked there.
He was home.
Bruce waited for her in the kitchen. He was sitting on a stool at the breakfast counter, his face hidden in his hands, and as she opened the door and walked in, he lifted his head and saw her, his eyes red-rimmed.
“Marlene, thank God.”
He rushed to her and held her in his arms. She didn’t hug him back. When he let go of her, she put her purse down on the small table by the door, then walked past him to the fridge where she pulled out a bottle of leftover white wine and pulled out the cork. She poured herself a glass, then downed it in one long sip. After that, she poured herself another glass while staring at the chicken on the counter. It was still there, and the dog hadn’t eaten it. But she didn’t want to cook at all. She just wanted to drink her wine. Marlene had never been much of a drinker since she didn’t like to lose control, but now she craved the drops that would numb her and every fiber of her body.
Anything to drown out the screaming voices in her head.
Seeing this, Bruce looked at her with his sad eyes. “They took me in too. Questioned me about my relationship with Jack. Went on and on about how I played with him in the yard and the things we did, and what I did when I got angry at him, how often I beat him, and if I ever used a tool to hit him. Crazy stuff like that. It was like they had decided that I was abusing our son beforehand, and there was nothing I could say or do to stop it. What did you tell them?”
Marlene exhaled and rubbed her forehead. “I couldn’t really tell them much since I never saw any of it. I was never around when it happened.”
“Wait … you believe them?”
Marlene stared at the man she had loved so dearly up until this point. Now, she felt nothing but resentment toward him. She kept seeing him in the yard with Jack, hitting him, kicking him, and locking him up in the shed where he knew she would never go. Just like he knew she would never come into the yard because she was so busy with housework and because she trusted him. She even thought that the two of them spending time together outside, playing, had been good for the boy. She thought she was being a good mother by letting them play, by encouraging them to go out there and bond. She had been proud of her husband because he spent time with his son. Because he actually did what most men didn’t. He prioritized his family and especially his son. Jack was going to grow up with a strong father figure in his life. He was the fortunate one compared to all those who didn’t have a father around. All the media talked about was how boys these days were neglected and grew up to be mass murders or school shooters because they were so angry at the world and because they didn’t have fathers.
Jack had been the lucky one. That’s what she had thought. Boy, what a fool she had been.
“I … I have to say, I don’t know what to believe, to be honest.”
His shoulders slumped, and it was like all air left him, along with every ounce of hope.
“You … you can’t be serious?” he said, his voice shivering. “Are you telling me that you believe that I could have abused our son? Our … my son, Jack? The boy I love more than anything in this world?”
A tear escaped her eyes, and she wiped it away, then sipped her wine again. “The things they said, the things Jack told them; how am I supposed …”
Bruce grabbed her by the shoulders. The gesture frightened her slightly. He looked into her eyes.
“Can’t you see that it’s what they want? They want to turn us against one another. Don’t let them win. We have to be there for one another through this, Marlene. I won’t survive it if we don’t. Neither of us will. We need to be a united front. Don’t believe them, Marlene, please. I never laid a hand on the boy. You have my word for it. You must believe me.”
She sighed again. “I don’t know, Bruce. I don’t know what to believe anymore. I feel so confused. You won’t believe the way they looked at me. Like I was the worst mother in the entire world. But I’m not, Bruce. I’m a good mother. I have always been a good mother.”
“Yes, you are,” he said. “And I am a good father. We are good parents. No, we’re more than that. We’re excellent parents.”
“But … how … why do they say those things?” she asked, now crying. “Those awful, awful things?”
He pulled her into a deep hug. She felt like he was squeezing her a little too tight. It made her feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t know, honey. But we’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ve called my lawyer, and he’ll help us. We’ll figure things out. We always do. We just can’t turn on one another; do you hear me? We just can’t.”
Chapter Fifty-One
“It’s him again. I just know it is.”
It was late Monday afternoon when I sat down across from Detective McMillen at the sheriff’s office on the mainland. I had barely put my behind in the seat before I started to talk.
McMillen sighed and leaned back in his chair. “And just why on Earth do you think that?”
“It has him written all over it.”
“So, because a young girl disappears after a night out, you think it’s your killer — whom we have no proof actually exists — that has kidnapped her?”
I nodded seriously. I knew he didn’t believe me, but I felt like I had to warn them, or at least tell someone. As soon as I heard about the young girl, Melanie Kagan that had disappeared the night before, I knew it was him again.
“Yes.”
“And let’s just say this guy actually exists. I’ll indulge you a little here. Could you please explain to me why he has kidnapped this young girl? It doesn’t exactly fit his former pattern, does it? Assuming again that he exists and that he isn’t just a product of your very vivid imagination.”
“He kidnapped Allyson,” I said. “Besides, I don’t know his exact pattern yet, but I’m working very hard on finding it, and then I’ll let you know.”
“You know, not everything that happens on this island is connected to some greater plot schemed by some sick killer.”
I exhaled, annoyed. I had the same discussion with my sister earlier the same morning. She too thought I was getting a little crazy in my assumptions when I said I believed Melanie was kidnapped by my killer. She too me
ant that I didn’t have to think everything was related to what happened to Allyson and our brother.
Much to my surprise, I had received backup from our father. I didn’t like that he was supporting me much since I didn’t want anything from him, but he had told my sister that there could be no harm in looking into it if that was what I wanted.
“Come on, Dad,” Sydney had said. “You really believe all this?”
My dad had nodded and looked at me. Our eyes had locked for a few seconds, and I felt something I hadn’t before, something I didn’t really want to feel, so I looked away, trying to avoid it.
“I do,” he said. “If I believe my son is innocent, then I must also believe Eva Rae is right. And I do believe he’s innocent. Make no mistake. He never meant to hurt anyone. Not my son, not Adam.”
I tilted my head and looked at McMillen. “The nursing home was part of it. I am certain of it. Just like the people at the hotel were his doing.”
He sighed. “Of course, you are.”
“He sent me the video. Did you have time to look at it?”
McMillen nodded. “Yes. We saw it. It was nasty. Can’t blame you for wanting to see things that aren’t exactly there.”
“So, what is your explanation for me receiving that video?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The guy who did this had heard about you … heard that you were on the island. He wanted to make sure you saw it. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter; we’ll never know for sure since he’s dead.”
“What if I tell you I don’t believe you got the right guy?” I said.
McMillen laughed. It was expected. It didn’t surprise me or even make me angry. I was way past that now. This wasn’t about me anymore.
“I’d say you’re imagining things again. Besides, the video was recorded and sent to you from the phone we recovered on the scene from inside the truck. It was Jeff Facer’s phone.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “Was it registered in his name or was it a burner phone and you just assumed it was his since it was in the truck with him?”
McMillen went quiet, and I had my answer.
I rose to my feet and gave him a victorious smile.
“That’s what I thought.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
I didn’t leave right away. I walked out of McMillen’s office and turned right down the hallway, toward forensics, the evidence unit. I had been told they were done with my phone, and I could get it back. They had copied its contents and didn’t need the physical phone anymore.
I signed the paper to retrieve it, and the woman behind the counter went to find it. While I waited, I looked out the window next to me, then spotted something that piqued my interest.
A big black MACK dump truck was parked out back.
The woman returned with my phone in a plastic bag that she handed to me. I grabbed it, then left, rushing out the doors, and hurried toward the truck. A tech, dressed in a bodysuit and gloves, was dusting for fingerprints inside of it as I approached the front.
I glared inside the truck, then the tech noticed me.
“Yes? Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Was the front seat in that same position when you found the truck?”
The tech looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Did you change the position of the front seat at any point?” I asked.
He looked puzzled. “No. The truck is exactly the way it was found.”
“And you haven’t pulled the seat forward to be better able to get in behind it or anything?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. Everything is left the way we found it.”
I nodded, feeling content with the answer. “And that goes for the positioning of the mirrors and the steering wheel too, I assume?”
“Yes. All of it.”
“Great. Thank you so much.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
I left, almost rushing out the doors, holding my phone in my hand. I was about to call Matt, out of habit, as I got into my car, but then stopped myself, feeling heavy at heart. I stared at the display and his name.
Was it over between us? Or was he waiting for me to make a move? Did I want to, or did I want to try and mend things with Chad? Was I just running from having to deal with it by chasing ghosts? Was me trying to solve this case really just a way to escape? Because I didn’t want to have to make a decision?
I started the engine and backed out of the parking lot, then left. I drove across the marshland while the thoughts rushed through my mind. The more I got to know this guy, the more I realized he truly believed he’d get away with this, that he could keep himself under the radar, and even put his actions right in my face, laughing at me, yet still get away with it.
The question that remained was why? Why was he doing this? And what would it take to stop him?
I had alienated most of my family and my boyfriend by now. Was I going to lose everything while trying to catch him? Was it worth it?
Of course, it’s worth it. This is a killer that thinks he is too smart to be caught. But that only shows you one thing:
He doesn’t know you very well.
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Hey, buddy, how about we take a dip in the pool, huh? Do you want to go with me?”
Matt stared at Elijah. He was sitting on the couch in the living room, legs pulled up, an iPad planted in his lap. He didn’t even look up as Matt spoke to him.
“Elijah?”
Matt stared at his son, then sighed deeply. The boy kept pretending like he didn’t exist. Meanwhile, Elijah loved being with Matt’s mother, and to be honest, Matt was fed up with it. He wanted to have with Elijah what he saw Chad have with Alex.
The thought of Chad made Matt’s blood boil. Truly, he had come to loathe the guy. He couldn’t believe he had actually walked out on Eva Rae and left her in the arms of that idiot.
It had been the right thing to do. He still believed it was since they were a real family, and they could be one again if Matt weren’t in the way.
It was the only right and noble thing to do.
Now, Matt had an entire day off since Chief Annie had told him to get some rest, but the boy, his own son, didn’t even want to hang out with him, let alone talk to him. Not even if Matt begged him.
It was pathetic. Matt felt like such a fool. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a father.
“Well, I‘ll just go alone then,” Matt said and turned around and walked to the sliding doors. He paused for a second before opening them, hoping that Elijah would stop him, that he would tell him to wait because he wanted to go with him after all.
But he didn’t. He remained still on the couch, engaged in some silly useless game on the iPad. It was all he ever did once he came home from school, and when he was off from school on the weekends or a teachers’ workday like today.
“He’s been through so much,” Matt’s mother would say when Matt complained that the boy didn’t talk to him, and when he talked about taking the iPad away from him. “Give it time.”
But he had given it time, hadn’t he? It had been almost a year now, and the boy still wasn’t the least bit interested in his dad. Maybe he never would be. What if he never talked to him again?
Was Matt going about it the wrong way? Did he need another approach?
He often thought about being stricter, maybe grounding the boy or yelling at him for not answering, but that just wasn’t Matt’s way of doing things. He didn’t have a temper, and he seldom yelled at anyone.
It just wasn’t who Matt was. He wasn’t an angry person. It wasn’t in his nature, and it never had been. Maybe that made him a doormat from time to time, but he just didn’t believe in yelling at or hurting kids. After all, yelling was just a way to hit children with words, wasn’t it? He had always believed it was. His own dad had yelled every chance he got, and that just made Matt lose all respect for him. He loved him, yes, and he missed him every day since he died from lung cancer, but he hadn’t been a very good f
ather, in Matt’s opinion. With Elijah, he had always believed that the boy would eventually come around if he treated him nicely and just talked to him. Why was the kid being so stubborn?
He blames you for the death of his mother. You know this, Matt.
Matt walked outside and closed the sliding doors behind him, then felt tears well up in his eyes as he plunged into the water.
I need you, Eva Rae. I’m not sure I can do this life without you.
Chapter Fifty-Four
“How did it go?”
My sister looked up from her manuscript as I entered our grandmother’s house. She was sitting in the living room, rehearsing her lines. It seemed like it was all she did lately.
“At the sheriff’s office?”
I exhaled. “Great! They think I’m a raving lunatic, but hey, nothing new there, right? It seems to be the general opinion around here lately. But I got my phone back. At least that’s something.”
“I’m sorry,” Syd said. “That they don’t believe you.”
“Why? You don’t believe me either.”
“I never said that.”
“You said something like that, and you meant it.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I did not. Of course, I believe you.”
I chuckled. “You need to practice your acting a little more there, dear sis. Not quite convincing.”
She exhaled. “I was just trying to say that maybe not everything that happens around here has to do with your case. Maybe some things are coincidental.”
Now, it was my turn to wrinkle my nose. “See, that’s the word I don’t like. I don’t believe in …”
“Coincidences, I know that now,” she said. “But what I meant to say was that I still believe that Adam’s story has more to it than what the police are saying. That part I am still in on. So, don’t give me that I-am-all-alone-in-the-world attitude. You’re not.”
