A Trail of Breadcrumbs

by D E Dennis

  “Michael, why them?”

  He followed her finger, eyes scanning over their names, and he shook his head. “I don’t know, Monica. I really don’t. I can’t... read this guy. I have no idea what’s going on behind those horrifying gray eyes. There’s just nothing there like he’s—”

  “Empty.”

  The soft whisper sent a chill up his spine. “Maybe there is no pattern,” he said, stepping away from the board. He collapsed onto the couch with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Maybe it was more about opportunity.”

  “But don’t serial killers usually follow a pattern,” she argued, sitting down next to him. “Isn’t there a reason behind why they choose their victims?”

  “Usually, but I don’t think we can apply standard conventions to a man like Antarr. One thing we know is that his target was children, and these three children walked home from school along the path of Siren Woods. He might have just struck when they were alone.”

  “So there was no reason for why he attacked them?”

  “There isn’t always a reason, Mo.” He put an arm around her shoulder.

  They sat there in silence, until Michael heard the office door open.

  “Michael? Monica?”

  Getting to their feet, they held their arms out and accepted their mother’s hug.

  “Hey, Mom,” Michael said, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “What’s up with the surprise dinner plans?”

  “Do I need a reason to invite my children to dinner? Michael, it’s been too long since we spent time together.”

  A week, he thought wryly, but he was too smart to say it out loud.

  “Practically months since the four of us had dinner together.”

  Brows lifting, Michael questioned, “The four of us?”

  “Yes,” Glenmore said as he stepped into the room. “The whole family.”

  “Hello, Dad.”

  “Son.”

  Michael held out his hand for a shake, while his father went in for a hug. It took some awkward shuffling before they finally got it right.

  “Hello, Princess.”

  Monica hugged her father with much more enthusiasm. “It’s so good to see you, Daddy. How was your business trip?”

  “It went well. We...”

  They drifted out of the room, chatting while Monica gathered her things. Kimona stayed put.

  “Mom, where are we—”

  “What is all this?”

  Michael looked over his shoulder to find her staring at the whiteboard.

  “Nothing.” He quickly grabbed a throw blanket off the couch and tossed it over their work. “Well, not nothing. It’s work, Mom. Getting down all the details of the case. Mapping the splinters.”

  “Splinters?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. We should get going. It’s been a long day and I’m starved. I never got to finish my sandwich.”

  Mom-mode clicked on. She put her hands on her hips. “Michael, what did I tell you about skipping meals? You have to take care of yourself. You...”

  Michael let the rant wash over him as he led his mother out into the main room.

  “So where are we going to dinner?” Michael asked when Kimona paused for breath.

  Glenmore grinned. “Tonight, I thought we’d have dinner at home.”

  “Home? You mean—”

  “Ella, you are more than welcome to join us.”

  “Thanks, I would love to,” Ella replied.

  “But, Dad—”

  “Let’s get going then. I have the chef preparing cannelloni pasta and we have about a forty-five-minute drive ahead of us.”

  “We’re going to Fairy Tails,” Michael finally cut in. “Why? Let’s just get something around the corner.”

  “Why not?” his father replied. “Besides, how long has it been since you’ve gone home?”

  “Um, well, let’s see... I was there this morning. In my actual home. Where I live.”

  As though they practiced it, Monica and Kimona slid up on either side of him and smoothly popped him over the head.

  “Just ignore him, Dad,” Monica said. “I always do.”

  Michael grumbled as he gathered his things and locked up. He was right behind his family as they headed for their father’s limo.

  “So what’s your dad like?” Ella asked from his right. “Descended from the town’s founders. Owner and CEO of Grimm Publishing. Is it true he was the youngest CEO in publishing history?”

  “It’s true,” he said. “Dad was always larger than life. He does things bigger and better than everyone else and he’s never let anyone tell him no... except for Mom, of course. No one’s quite figured out how to do that, and if they have, they never lived to tell about it.”

  She giggled. “Auntie’s not that bad, but I’m glad I will finally get to know your dad.”

  “When you figure him out,” Michael said out of the corner of his mouth. “Fill me in.”

  More giggles but Michael was only half kidding. He loved his father and they were working on getting to better terms, but sometimes he felt like a stranger to him.

  A feeling that only intensified when the driver pulled up to the gates of his ancestral home, Grimm Manor.

  The gate rumbled open immediately and up the long driveway they went, parking before the grand entrance.

  Kimona, Glenmore, Monica, and Michael climbed out and headed for the manor. Michael paused, looking back toward the car.

  “You coming?” he said to Ella, trying to hide his amusement at her dropped jaw.

  “This is your house,” she hissed. “I can’t— I’m not— I’m not dressed,” she cried, looking down at her black jeans and simple blue top.

  “There isn’t a dress code.” He chuckled. “Come on, we’ll scarf down some pasta, then I’ll have the driver drop us off at the Little Pigs for dessert. A place more our speed.”

  Ella shook her head, but she stepped out of the car all the same. “I can’t believe this is where you lived.”

  Michael turned around, trying to take it in through Ella’s eyes. The place looked about as close to a fairy-tale castle as you could get outside of a storybook. Three floors of polished gray stone, turrets, chimneys, and eighteen bedrooms all bigger than his apartment. The mansion sat on a massive well-manicured lawn along with a tennis court, Olympic-size swimming pool, and a basketball court.

  “That was a long time ago,” he eventually said. “This hasn’t been home for over twenty years.”

  Ella squeezed his arm, walking with him through the grand entrance, the living room, drawing room, sitting room, and finally into the small dining room. This was where family dinners were held, while the large dining room with the table that could seat thirty people was reserved for special events.

  Michael couldn’t believe he remembered all that, on top of where to go.

  The rest of his family were already finding their seats around the small six-seater table. Glenmore sat at the head of the table while his mother took his right and Monica sat on his left. Ella took the seat next to Kimona while he went for the seat next to Monica. Michael glanced around as he scooted in his chair.

  It was exactly how he remembered it. Yellow wallpaper with a gold, geometric pattern, plush brown carpet, and the old picture of the four of them when Michael was eight.

  “Aww,” Ella crooned. “That’s such a sweet picture.”

  Kimona beamed. “Isn’t it? Look at how cute my babies are. Michael was so adorable then, he used to beg me to hold the baby. Just couldn’t be without his sister.”

  “Aww,” Monica teased, squidging up her face at him. “My big brother loved me.”

  Michael grinned. “Yeah, well that was back before you learned how to talk.”

  Her hand whipped out but Michael was fast this time. He ducked her head slap, laughing. “Too slow there, baby sister. My turn.”

  Monica shrieked as Michael attacked her side, tickling her into submission.

  “Some things never change,” Glenmore said fon
dly.

  Breathless with laughter, Monica finally shoved him off just as their food was brought in. A plate of cannelloni pasta and homemade garlic rolls were placed in front of him.

  Michael thanked the chef and dug into his pasta, letting the chatter wash over him.

  “What’s it like living in this big house all by yourself, Mr. Grimm?”

  “Please call me Glenmore,” he replied to Ella. “It’s certainly much more space than I need, but I always thought I would share it with a wonderful woman and our children.” Glenmore’s hand found Kimona’s. “That we would all grow old in this place. Michael and Monica could get married, move in, and raise their families here.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely,” Kimona gushed. “To have my grandbabies running around me all day.”

  The siblings both paused with forks halfway to their mouths.

  This conversation is taking a dangerous turn.

  “So, Mom,” Michael said quickly. “Tell me about the dress you bought for Ella’s banquet.”

  “It’s blue,” she replied without skipping a beat. “So about those grandbabies, any on the horizon? Michael, I hear you’re dating someone.”

  He blinked. “Where did you hear that?” He threw his sister a scowl and she innocently smiled back.

  “And you too, Monica,” Kimona said, turning her probing eyes on his oversharing sister. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”

  “No,” she said hastily.

  “But I—”

  “Mom, it’s not me you should be focusing on,” Monica said with a weak laugh. “Michael is the eldest. He’s the one overdue to give you grandbabies. Little knobby-kneed ones with long curly brown hair and a mother whose name rhymes with Pakira Neddy.” She turned to him, an unrepentant grin on her face. “Michael, where are those babies at because I, for one, am—”

  “Monica, you look like you’re hungry. Are you hungry?” He grabbed the roll off her plate. “Eat up, little sister.”

  She struggled, laughing uproariously as he tried to attack her with the bread roll. This conversation needed to end and there was no time for subtlety.

  Laughter and conversation filled the room as the five of them enjoyed a relaxing dinner. Michael hadn’t known how much he needed this until now. The last six days had been a hectic mess of nightmares, hidden secrets, and breakdowns.

  Michael had to wonder if this was anything like what Elias Rowe felt, and if it was, he couldn’t help but feel for the man. This case already haunted his dreams, he didn’t know what he’d do if they never found the proof to connect Antarr to Harper’s death.

  “Michael? Michael?”

  “What?” He shook himself. “Sorry, what was that?”

  Monica frowned at him. “Where did you just go? You’ve been out of it for the last five minutes?”

  “Was I?”

  “Is everything okay, baby?” his mother asked.

  “Of course, Mom. Everything is fine.”

  She sniffed. “It’s not fine and I know why. It has to do with that awful man, Liam Antarr. Michael, I wish you would listen to me and leave this case to the police. The grief that man has caused this family is reason alone.”

  Michael sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Liam Antarr did not touch me, Mom. He didn’t then and he won’t now. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Michael, that was the most terrifying moment of my life and it was because of him. No, he didn’t hurt you, but I spent all night sobbing my eyes out because I thought he did! I thought my son w-was—”

  Her hand flew to her mouth, unable to say anymore.

  “Mom, this is upsetting you. Let’s change the subject.”

  It was like he hadn’t opened his mouth.

  “You can’t blame your mother for being worried,” Glenmore said, putting his arms around Kimona. “He’s a dangerous man and the very fear of him turned our world upside down when you went missing.”

  “Missing?” Ella broke in.

  Monica leaned forward. “When Michael was twelve, he—”

  “Monica!” he hissed.

  “Monica what?” Kimona challenged, lifting her head. “Have you not told her what happened? About that awful day when you took it upon yourself to not get on the school bus, go out into the woods, and get yourself lost. I was terrified when that bus came and went and you never got off. The Siren Woods Killer, Liam Antarr, hadn’t been caught and I was beside myself.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said for lack of a better response.

  “And now you’re investigating him after he’s already killed that young journalist for doing the same thing.”

  He rose out of his seat and walked around the table. Taking his mother’s hands, he kneeled in front of her. “I know you’re worried and I understand why, but nothing is going to happen to me. This isn’t like twenty years ago. We know who he is and what he’s capable of. Liam Antarr will pay for what he did to Harper Rowe, Andrea Taylor, Nicholas Milton, Irina West... and you. For the shadow he cast over our lives, making us all so suspicious and fearful that when one stupid kid makes the mistake of going into the woods, it would become the worst day of your life.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to be the one who sees him behind bars. Not just for those kids or their families or Harper, but for all of us.”

  Sniffling, Kimona freed herself to pat his cheek, giving him a faint smile. “I know you will, baby. I know. Just be careful.”

  Chapter Seven

  “THEY SAY HE LIVES IN the woods. Waiting. Watching. Hunting.”

  The words slithered into his ears, sending a shiver through him that he tried to hide.

  “They say he can’t help himself. He’s like a wild animal.”

  “No one who gets lost in Siren Woods is ever seen again.”

  “I won’t get lost,” he tried to inject some confidence in his voice. “All that isn’t true anyway.”

  The alarm blared, scaring Michael awake. Kicking off the covers, he went into his bathroom, turned on the sink, and plunged his head under the running water. The shock of cold sent the remnants of his nightmare fleeing into his subconscious.

  After some time, he pulled his head out, bypassed the towels, and headed for his closet. The routine was familiar by now.

  Time to run.

  MONICA DIDN’T FIND Michael in his usual spot behind the desk when she strolled into work that morning.

  “Michael?”

  “I’m in here,” he called, giving the whiteboard his back. “Morning.”

  “Morning, brother dear. What did you do after dinner last night?” Her voice grew faint as she wandered into the kitchen.

  “The driver dropped me and Ella at the Little Pigs for a late-night chocolate chip muffin then I walked home, so just like my usual crazy nights. What about you?”

  “I went— Hey! Where’s my coffee?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to get it brewing.”

  He heard a harrumph and then rapidly approaching footsteps. His sister appeared in the doorway. “This is payback for telling Mom about our case, isn’t it?”

  “No, this is me half-awake and trying to keep it together,” he countered. “I was up all night thinking about Rowan Presley and what she might do. Samira hasn’t called, so I’m hoping that’s a good thing, but the man she’s protecting right now is even more dangerous than the person coming after him.”

  Monica bit her lip, losing her offended stance. “I know, I’ve been up all night worrying too. I called Mira this morning, but she hasn’t called me back.”

  Michael sighed, throwing himself onto his couch. “She will call back. She’s fine. I won’t believe anything else.”

  Monica joined him. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot.”

  “I know I said I would respect your choices and let you come to me when you were ready, but... why are you with Hazel when you’re so clearly in love with Samira?”

  Michael stiffened, he hadn’t expected that. “It’s com
plicated, Mo.”

  She stepped into his line of sight, looking more serious than he had ever seen her. “I don’t think it is, Michael.”

  Leaning back, he broke eye contact, staring off at a point over the TV. “You’re right,” he said softly. “It’s not complicated. It’s actually laughably simple. I did something— Something I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for... and I’m too much of a coward to find out.”

  “She will forgive you.” Monica didn’t hesitate. She didn’t even ask what he was talking about. “She loves you. Still loves you after all this time. Tell her the truth, and I know she’ll surprise you. Samira Reddy has never been predictable.”

  He couldn’t help the lopsided grin that stole over his face. “That is true,” he said as he got to his feet. “How about I get the coffee going?”

  “It’s about time.”

  Michael laughed, strolling into the main room just as the office door swung open. As if summoned, Samira Reddy marched in. Her long hair brushed against her holster, beautiful brown eyes alight with determination.

  He froze, taking her in as she walked up to him, and at that moment, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words tumbled out of him.

  “Samira, I need to talk to you about—”

  “Michael, Rowan Presley is dead.”

  His confession died in his throat. Eyes bugging out, he cried, “Wait? What?”

  “She’s dead, Ghoul,” Spencer said as he stepped into the room. His phone was pressed against his ear. “Officers found her this morning with her head in the oven. She committed suicide last night.”

  Michael goggled at them. “But how? Why? This doesn’t make any sense!”

  “You were the last one to see her,” Samira said. “You told us she was upset when she left. Sobbing and wishing for revenge on Antarr. She must have gone home, thought about it, and realized there was nothing she could do against him. Then she decided to take her own life.”

  Michael shook his head wildly. “I’m sorry, slow down. I need you to start from the beginning.”

  “Okay,” Samira said, nodding her head. “Ten minutes ago, Spencer and I were in the car heading to Siren Woods. Last night, after posting an officer on Antarr’s house, we went back to the station and told the chief what you learned from Presley. She ordered that she be brought in immediately, but not even the CRPD has her home or cell number. We call up the secretary and after threatening her with charges of obstruction, she finally gave up the numbers.