Find Her Alive

by Regan, Lisa

  Josie said, “You think I’m perfect?”

  “You’re famous and loved by everyone. You’ve got a great career—no matter what happens or what you do—a beautiful home and a fantastic boyfriend. You’ve got everything. This house is always full of people. Friends, colleagues, family. People who shouldn’t even like you—like Misty, your late husband’s girlfriend—yet, they’re here for you. No one is here for me. Not one person.”

  With each word, Josie felt as if Trinity had snapped a small but critical bone inside of her. Still, she managed to eke out the words, “I’m here for you.”

  “Oh sure, you’re here for me now. What about my whole entire life? Where were you? I needed you. Things could have been different if you’d been there, but you weren’t.”

  A flare of anger ignited in Josie’s stomach. “You know that wasn’t my fault.”

  “But it doesn’t change anything, does it?” Trinity cried. “You were never there. I was alone. Now you’ve got the perfect life, and I’ve got nothing. The one thing I cared about—the only thing I ever cared about—has just been taken away from me. You don’t even get it. My own sister. My twin. But how could you understand?”

  Josie pointed back at her sister, mirroring her. “You weren’t alone, Trinity. You had our whole family. You know what I had? A closet. I was in hell. Actual hell. You grew up in a beautiful home with two loving parents and a sweet little brother. You never wanted for anything. You always had money. You always had food in your stomach, a roof over your head.” She pulled back the hair on the right side of her face and pointed to the long, faded scar that ran from her ear to just under the middle of her chin. “No one ever held you down and tried to cut your face off, did they? You don’t want to play who had the worse childhood with me, because I will win.”

  Dropping her gaze to the floor, Trinity walked over and pushed Josie out of the way, staggering into the hallway as she pulled the heavy suitcase along behind her.

  At the top of the steps, she turned back to Josie. “Did you ever think that maybe we should have just left things alone? Sure, we have DNA in common, but that doesn’t make us family. We weren’t meant to be sisters, not really.”

  “Trinity—”

  “It’s true. You didn’t even like me before we found out about our DNA. You hated me.”

  “There was a time that I disliked you, yes,” Josie admitted. “But that was before I really got to know you—”

  “But you don’t know me, not really,” Trinity said. “How long have we been ‘sisters’ now? Three years? What do you really know about me?”

  “I—I—” Josie stammered.

  “What’s the worst thing that ever happened to me? Besides losing my anchor position, obviously.”

  Josie racked her brain. Trinity was right. The things she knew about her were superficial. They’d never had the chance for the kinds of conversations where they’d spilled their guts and divulged every detail of their lives. Then again, Josie never had those conversations with anyone.

  “The worst thing that ever happened to you was when you got demoted from the network morning show back to WYEP after that source fed you bad information.”

  Trinity put a hand on her hip. “Wrong. What’s the best thing that ever happened to me?”

  Josie said meekly, “Getting your anchor position?”

  Tears gleamed in Trinity’s eyes. When she spoke, her voice cracked. “Wrong.”

  With a sinking heart, Josie trailed behind her sister as she lugged the suitcase outside to her red Fiat convertible and jammed it into the passenger seat. Trinity went back into the house twice to get her letter boxes and her purse. She positioned the boxes precariously between the suitcase and the dash with her brown Gucci purse tossed into the box on top. Josie pleaded with her to stay, to talk about things, but Trinity ignored her.

  As she turned the ignition and the Fiat roared to life, she rolled the window down and looked at Josie one last time. “We’re not sisters, Josie. Not really. I think it’s time we stopped forcing something that was never meant to happen.”

  Four

  “Wow,” Noah said as they let themselves back into the house. “I didn’t know it was that brutal. I’m sorry.”

  In the foyer, Josie extricated Trout from his leash and harness. He trotted off to the kitchen for a drink of water. Noah pulled her in for a hug. “You haven’t talked to her since?” he asked into the top of her head.

  Josie let her cheek rest against his chest and mumbled, “No. I called and texted a bunch of times, but she never responded.”

  He released her and they trudged upstairs to shower and dress. In the bedroom, as he stripped off his T-shirt, Noah said, “Did you talk to Shannon?”

  “Of course. Several times. She tried to smooth things over, but Trinity wasn’t having that. She said she didn’t want to talk to me or see me. Or anyone, actually. I found out from Shannon that she had rented a cabin.”

  “She stayed around here, though,” Noah pointed out. “That’s got to mean something.”

  “I don’t think so, Noah. I’ve never seen her like that, and the worst part is…”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say it, even to him.

  “What?”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see him watching her. “She’s right. I don’t know anything about her. Not really. I never asked.”

  “What is there to know?” Noah said.

  Her eyes snapped open. “Noah, really.”

  He held out his arms. “I’m serious. So you find out you’re sisters. Were you supposed to sit down and catalog every single thing about one another that you missed? You two spend a lot of time together given both your busy schedules. You’ve fully immersed yourself in the family. What else did she expect of you? Did she ask you about every little detail of your life?”

  “She didn’t have to. Much of it became public knowledge, unfortunately.”

  He sat beside her, slinging an arm across her shoulders and pulling her in tight to him. “I think she’s been overdramatic about all of this. Obviously, she was upset about losing her anchor position. You know how she is about her career.”

  But I don’t know why, Josie thought. What made Trinity that way?

  Noah went on, “For someone like Trinity, losing this co-host position is like a death in the family. She’s unmoored now. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She lashed out at you because you’re closest to her. She’s had a month at her cabin retreat to figure out who she is without this job. Maybe it’s time you just went up there and talked to her.”

  “If she wanted to talk to me, she’d respond to one of my texts or calls.”

  “Maybe she’s embarrassed by the way she acted. Maybe she needs you to make contact first.”

  “I don’t think so,” Josie said.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Noah said. “She’s already not talking to you. What do you have to lose? Take the sunglasses. Go out to the cabin. Tell her you want to be her sister.”

  “I don’t even know where the cabin is.”

  “Don’t make excuses. Shannon’s got the address, doesn’t she?”

  Josie said nothing.

  “Grab a shower. I’ll make breakfast, and then you go see her.”

  “What if she slams the door in my face? Or worse, she doesn’t even come to the door?”

  Noah stood and smiled down at her. “Then you’ll try again tomorrow.”

  * * *

  The Whispering Oaks Cabins had been around as long as Josie could remember. They were usually used by hunters or fishermen at this time of year—late March—and occasionally, in the summer, families rented them. High up in the mountains, the area seemed remote but was really only a half hour from the city. A stream ran through the various properties as well as several hiking trails. A rutted gravel road snaked up the mountain, leading to the driveways of each cabin. There were ten in all. Trinity, Shannon had said, was staying
in number six.

  Josie bounced along in her Ford Escape until she found the driveway marked with a faded waist-level wooden sign with the number six on it. She turned, following another narrow gravel path until Trinity’s red Fiat Spider came into view, its front end pointed in the direction Josie had come. The cabin was small with faux log-siding the color of smoke and a bright red aluminum roof. It had a narrow porch just big enough for two wooden rocking chairs. Its door was bright red with a wicker wreath hanging on it, complete with fake, brightly colored spring flowers. It was quaint and inviting, and the exact opposite of Trinity’s style. How had she managed to stay in a place like this for a whole month? Josie wondered. A voice in the back of Josie’s head reminded her of Trinity’s accusation that she’d never really known her at all.

  With a sigh, Josie parked beside the Fiat, grabbed Trinity’s sunglasses, and got out. As she walked past the Fiat, something in the passenger’s seat caught her eye. Trinity’s suitcase was visible through the passenger’s side window. On top of it was her purse. A Gucci purse to go with her Gucci sunglasses. Noah would have a stroke if he knew how much Trinity had paid for the purse. Josie had been with her in New York City when she bought it and had felt nauseated watching Trinity hand the cashier her credit card.

  Trinity was leaving. Josie wondered if she’d gotten her anchor position back. She had been watching the morning show all month, hoping to hear that the network was planning Trinity’s return, but all she’d seen was a string of temporary co-hosts who fell short of filling Trinity’s shoes. There was no mention of Trinity other than that she was “out on assignment”. Nor was there any mention of the now-famous Mila Kates taking over her anchor seat. It was a strange coincidence that Trinity was leaving the very day that Josie worked up the nerve to come see her.

  Josie’s feet felt heavy as she climbed the porch and knocked on the door. “Trin?” she called.

  No answer. She looked into the window beside the front door, but the white curtains blocked her from seeing inside. “Trinity?” she called again. She knocked again, louder this time. Nothing.

  Pressing her ear against the door below the wreath, she listened for any sounds from inside but heard nothing. She tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, it turned easily in her hand. She put Trinity’s sunglasses in her pocket and pushed the door open, calling for her sister again. A musty smell hit her as soon as she crossed the threshold. It was nearly ten a.m. and the sun was bright overhead. No lights were on inside. Josie called for Trinity again but got no answer. Her heart did a double-tap. Her hand checked for her service weapon, but it wasn’t there as it was her day off. There was no reason to think she needed it to visit Trinity. The cabin, quaintly decorated in dark red and brown, was clean and orderly except for the dust covering every surface. Josie quickly checked the one bedroom and the tiny bathroom. Both were empty, neat, and covered in dust. Turning back to the main living area, Josie couldn’t stop the creeping sense of dread dragging its icy fingers up her spine. On the kitchen table was a note written on what looked like a page torn from Trinity’s planner:

  Mr. P, Thanks for the rental. The place is lovely. I know I only stayed for a week, but you can keep the deposit. I don’t expect a refund. I hope you find everything in good repair. If there are any issues, please call me. Trinity.

  Below that was her cell phone number. Next to the note was a single key on a keychain in the shape of a bear with the words Whispering Oaks 6 printed in white across it. Josie’s eyes scanned the note again, landing on the words:

  I know I only stayed for a week.

  “A week?” she muttered.

  That would mean Trinity had left three weeks ago. But she hadn’t. Her car was sitting outside the cabin with her suitcase and purse inside.

  Josie raced back out to the driveway, rounding the driver’s side of the Fiat. Without touching the car, she leaned over and peered inside. Keys dangled from the ignition. In the center console, beneath the dash, at the level of the gear shift, was a small opening where Trinity usually kept her phone. Josie’s heart stuttered when she saw the phone there.

  She reached out to fling the door open but stopped herself a fraction of a second before she touched the car. The police officer in her wouldn’t let her contaminate any fingerprint evidence that might be left on the outside of the car. Her hand trembled as she snatched it back.

  She turned around, eyes panning the grass and the trees beyond it, then the driveway. She walked out past her own vehicle to the perimeter of the property, searching for footprints or any sign of Trinity. Had she walked off into the woods? Had someone come onto the property and taken her? If so, had they simply dragged her into the forest, or had they driven off with her? The gravel driveway would make it near impossible to get casts of tire tracks. And, she realized, even if there were tire tracks, Josie had just driven over them.

  She rounded the back of the cabin. The first thing she saw was a clearing with two Adirondack chairs bracketing a fire ring made from an old tire rim. Against the back of the cabin was a rack filled with firewood. No way had Trinity been making a campfire out here. She wasn’t the woodsy type. Josie’s eyes were drawn to the fire ring. Old ash and pieces of burnt logs lay tamped down inside of it. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. Josie looked up from the fire ring toward the trees at the back of the property. On the ground, about a foot from the treeline, something white caught her eye. She took two steps forward and froze. Her mind couldn’t quite process what she was seeing. The grass was a few inches tall. It hadn’t been cut in some time although they were just entering spring after a cold winter so the grass wouldn’t be growing very fast during this time of year. The landlord had probably had it cut just before Trinity moved in, a month earlier.

  She forced her feet to move another step. Her throat constricted, and she worked hard to push the air in and out of her lungs. Arrayed on the grass before her were bones. Human bones. Not left there or dumped, but arranged.

  Displayed.

  A rib cage and spine made up the centerpiece of whatever it was that Josie was staring at—some kind of symbol? Remnants of some kind of satanic ritual? Surrounding the rib cage and spine were smaller bones. Some clinical part of her mind recognized those as the tiny bones of the hands, fingers, feet, and toes. Intermingled with those were the clavicles. At the bottom of the circle, pointing from the outer edge toward Josie’s feet were longer bones. Arm bones, the cool investigator in the back of her mind whispered, because they were too small to be leg bones. Beneath those bones were the skull and pelvic bone. The empty eye sockets of the skull stared back at Josie, making her chest feel tight. She tore her eyes away from it and looked toward the upper right-hand side of the circle, where the leg bones lay, angled away from Josie.

  A violent trembling took over her body. Her feet turned and tried to carry her away, but her shins knocked against one of the Adirondack chairs and she went flying over it, tumbling toward the back of the cabin. Her head smacked against the rack of firewood and some of the logs toppled into her lap. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. There was a calm, firm voice in the back of her mind—the one that gave her orders when her body shut down from fear or panic. The police officer inside her. Take out your phone, it told her. Call for back-up.

  It went on like a mantra until she opened her eyes, pushed the logs off her body, and fished her phone out of her pocket. Breathe, the voice said as she punched in her passcode. Just breathe.

  Noah answered on the third ring. “Hey,” he said. “I’m glad you called. I can’t find Trout’s heartworm—”

  “Something’s wrong,” Josie said, cutting him off. “I need you here. I need the team.”

  Noah’s tone turned serious. “Josie, are you in trouble? What’s going on?”

  “B-b-bones,” she stammered.

  “What? Josie, what’s happening? Where’s Trinity? Is she there?”

  Her voice was a whisper. “I think she’s dead.”

 
Five

  Noah started with simple questions that Josie could answer easily with just one or two words. Was she inside the cabin? No. Was she at the front or the back? Back. Was anyone there with her? No. His voice was an anchor, steadying her, keeping her from being swept away on a choppy tide of panic. Bit by bit, he pulled the information from her. In the background, she was vaguely aware of the jingle of his keys, the slam of a door, his car roaring to life. He was on his way.

  “You’re saying she left a note for the landlord three weeks ago. Her car is packed with the keys in the ignition and her phone in the console but she’s not there,” he recapped.

  “Th-there are bones. Remains. I think it’s—I think it’s her. Oh God, Noah.”

  His voice didn’t waver, “Josie, right now I need you to get in your car and go back down to the main road. We’ll meet you there.”

  Josie shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “I can’t.” Her legs felt paralyzed. She didn’t want to stand up because then she would see those empty eye sockets again. She already knew she wouldn’t be able to look away.

  “Get in your car,” Noah repeated. “Meet us at the main road.”

  She said nothing.

  “Please, Josie, listen to me,” he went on. “You’re in the middle of a crime scene. You know that it needs to be preserved. That means you need to leave until we can get the Evidence Response Team out there.”

  Crime scene. Evidence Response Team. These were words she recognized. Concepts that made sense even in her shock-addled brain. “Okay,” she said, hefting herself off the ground and averting her eyes from the display on the other side of the fire ring.

  “Are you going back to the car?” Noah asked.

  “Yes,” she mumbled. She was unsteady on her feet but slowly, she made her way back to the front of the cabin to her car. “I’m at the car,” she told him once she reached it.