Chapter 32: Secrets Beyond the Grave

When my father passed, my world was turned upside down; my mother deteriorated, our routines were modified, and I also noticed a difference in how I was treated by others.

Yet I never felt altered by his death.

I supposed that was because my friendship with Haylee hadn’t changed (or at least from my perspective); she was like a constant that tethered me to the life I had known before. I think I clung to that last shred of familiarity.

But now I had to face the reality that a metamorphosis had taken place. The only thing that had changed between me and Haylee was that I was now aware that a transformation had occurred.

When I went to bed that night, I had already decided to reconcile with Haylee, but I was dreading the awkwardness and feared that we would both spend the rest of the weekend walking on eggshells.

But to my surprise, I woke feeling unburdened by the ugly exchange that had only occurred hours before. After my shower, I pampered my skin with the products I reserved for special occasions and took my time curling and styling my hair.

When I was finished in the bathroom, I returned to my room and propped my phone next to my makeup mirror so I could follow a make-up tutorial, forgoing the natural look that I usually favored.

I didn’t understand why I was prompted to alter my appearance; it was as if I were being possessed to do so, as if I were externally adapting to the internal changes.

When I entered the kitchen, Haylee didn’t look well. Deep circles hung under her eyes, and her cheeks were puffy, as if she had spent the rest of the night in tears.

“Good morning,” I called out in a sing-song voice as I swept through the room and began helping myself to a cup of fresh brew.

“Dharma!” my mother exclaimed as I sat. “You look lovely, dear. What do you and Haylee have planned today?”

“We don’t have any plans this morning, but I was thinking that the three of us could have lunch at The Burger Shack,” I suggested. “You have been cooped up since the break-in, Mom. I think you deserve an afternoon out.”

“I suppose I have become somewhat of a hermit,” she agreed. “I just feel so anxious leaving the house unoccupied—especially since they still haven’t caught the culprit.”

“It was probably just a kid,” Haylee opined. “Do you remember the Branston house?”

“That old shack that the city tore down a few years ago?” my mother queried.

“That’s the one,” Haylee confirmed. “According to neighborhood lore, the reason it remained abandoned is because the old couple who died there haunted the place and would use their canes to defend against anyone who dared to cross their threshold.”

My mother threw back her head and laughed. “The stories you children come up with! The reason it stood for so long is because some legal red tape prevented the county from demolishing it.”

“We were ten, Mom,” I reminded her. “Besides, having a haunted house on our block added some mystique to our little lives.”

“Do you remember that Halloween when our trick-or-treating troop broke inside so we could hold a séance?” Haylee asked me.

“You did what?!” My mother howled and slapped the table. “If you guys had been discovered, you would have been in big trouble.”

“And we would have deserved it,” I said.

Haylee pivoted the conversation back to her original point. “Anyway, imagine what stories the neighborhood kids have conjured up about this place. Virginia Cole practically made this place a tourist attraction.”

“Haylee is right,” I said. “Internet sleuths have visited over the years. Our intruder may have just been a curious cat seeking a good scare.”

“I bet that buggy light gave them the fright of their life,” my mother joined in, warming to the idea that the invasion may have not been malicious after all. “Well, if you girls will excuse me, I think I’m going to get my day started. My business sign is being installed today, and there is a glitch in the website that I need to address.”

Haylee waited for my mother to depart before she turned to me and clasped my hand.

“Dharma, I didn’t sleep a wink last night,” she confessed. “I lay awake kicking myself. I guess I didn’t realize how damaging my confession would be.”

“I had trouble falling asleep too,” I said. “But it gave me some time to put myself in your shoes and consider your perspective. I was a bit fragile when my father died, and other than you, my crush on Payton was my only distraction I had from my grief. I’m glad you didn’t deprive me of that.”

“If only I were genuinely that insightful,” Haylee laughed. “I had some time to think about it as well, and you were right. I liked having a secret affair to color my rather dull life, but you have to believe me when I say I never thought I was humiliating you.”

“I would like to spend the rest of the weekend trying to put this behind us,” I said, stretching my arms out and offering her my open palms. She reached over and grasped my hands.

“I think you need to go upstairs and get some rest,” I suggested. “Or you will be a zombie for the rest of the day.”

Haylee stifled a long yawn. “What will you do while I’m sleeping?”

“I can entertain myself,” I assured her. “I’ve gotten quite good at keeping myself occupied.”

I lingered in the kitchen after Haylee departed, pouring myself another cup of coffee and making myself a bagel to take back to my room.

My first instinct was to finish the latest novel I had abandoned, but then the diary that Haylee had been reading caught my attention, so I picked it up instead.

Haylee had been skimming the pages in search of intriguing passages, but I decided to start from the beginning; I wanted to attempt to understand who Rosie Johnson was as a person.

The opening of the diary was a bit boring. Rosie seemed like a typical teenager, whose only concerns were her social life and graduating high school. Though she articulated how burdensome her family could be, she seemed to care for them deeply.

But this changed as her story progressed.

Rosie was swept up into a whirlwind romance with a boy named Jackson. He would abuse Rosie to the point that she was ready to end the relationship, then redeem himself with grand displays of affection and romantic gestures. It was evident that he derived pleasure from manipulating her.

Rosie did mention that Jackson was largely ignored by his parents, and this garnered Rosie’s empathy, which caused her unwarranted guilt about wanting to end the relationship. I suspected that Jackson knew this.

To make things worse for Rosie, a rift between her parents kept them distracted and occupied.

The once jovial and carefree girl disappeared with each page, and just when it seemed like Rosie had resolved to reclaim her life without Jackson, she made another revelation: she suspected that she was pregnant.

That was her final entry in the journal.

I hated cliffhangers and began stubbornly flipping through the blank pages, hoping to find a hidden entry. Instead, I came across a photo sandwiched between a couple pages.

Time and humidity had caused the face of the photo to become glued to a page. I took the journal to my desk and located a pair of tweezers, hoping to create an air pocket between the photo and the paper.

I was so focused I didn’t notice Haylee’s presence until she spoke.

“What are you doing?”

“I found a photo in Rosie’s diary,” I explained. “It got stuck to the pages, so now I’m trying to pry it free.”

“You need steam,” Haylee said. “Whenever my parents received a letter from the school, I would steam the envelope open so I could read it first and know what to expect, then I would use the same method to reseal it.”

“My mother has a tea kettle,” I said, leaping from my chair.

“Or we can save some time and just heat up a cup of water in the microwave,” Haylee intervened. “You sit tight while I go fetch it.”

When Haylee returned, I watched as she ripped the page from its binding and held it above the steam. Using the tweezers to grasp the corner of the image, she easily peeled it away from the paper.

She began to shake it out. “To dry the condensation so the colors won’t run,” she explained.

I indulged her with a quiet round of applause. “That was impressive.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she remarked.

When the image was dry, she offered it to me and hovered over my shoulder so she could view it as well.

I recognized Rosie from the images Virginia Cole had shared in her book, but the black-and-white photos I had viewed previously had not done Rosie justice.

Judging from her apparel, the image had been snapped at some type of formal event. Rosie was dressed in an aqua-blue mermaid dress that matched her eyes, and her hair was swept up so that her soft, blonde curls crowned her head.

The boy she attended the event with was easy on the eyes, but something about him made me do a double take.

Haylee misunderstood my interest in the male. “He is a snack, but there’s no reason to ogle the poor guy. He is close to your mother’s age by now.”

“It isn’t that,” I informed her. “He just seems familiar.”

“Do you think he still lives in town?” Haylee asked, seeming intrigued. Then something occurred to her. “Do you think the guy next to her is Jackson?”

“I don’t know,” I said, setting aside the photo and opening my laptop, “but we can find out.”

“Do you know Jackson’s surname?” Haylee asked, propping her right buttock onto the arm of my chair.

“Rosie’s diary didn’t say, but I have an idea of how we can find out.”

I entered “~Jackson~ ~and~ ~Rosie Johnson~” into the search bar, and a newspaper article bearing the same picture was the top search result.

“~Cream of the Crop~,” I read the heading aloud. “~Jackson Jones and Rosie Johnson claimed their reign as they were crowned at a ceremony held by the 4-H committee~.” I paused. “Jones is Justin’s last name. Is it possible that Justin is related to Jackson?”

“Google ~Jackson Jones~!” Haylee urged me.

I did as she instructed and was stunned by the results. “~Andrew Jackson Jones~,” I read his full name out loud, then looked at Haylee in shock as I confirmed, “Jackson is Justin’s father.”

“Poor Justin!” Haylee gasped. “At least Rosie managed to escape.”

“Not unscathed,” I informed her, reclaiming the diary so I could reveal the last entry. “Look at the date. She wrote that the same week her family was poisoned.”

Haylee read the final passage. “I wonder if Jackson knew?”

“I don’t think so. According to Virginia Cole, the court allowed them to change their names and granted them anonymity.”

“That protection may be what prevents the true-crime community from tracking down the children of notorious serial killers,” Haylee surmised.

I wrinkled my nose. “I understand the fascination, but there are some boundaries that should never be crossed.”

“Like reading the personal thoughts of a trauma survivor?” Haylee posed. I elbowed her in the ribs but didn’t bother to try to justify what we had done.

“I wonder why Rosie never resurfaced,” Haylee speculated. “She could have made some serious bank by writing a personal memoir.”

“She lost so much,” I reminded her. “I bet she just wanted to put it all behind her. Besides, if she was pregnant, she may have not wanted that stigma attached to her child.”

“I wonder if she had the baby,” Haylee said. “I wonder if Justin suspects that he has a sibling out there…” She allowed the last statement to trail off as she lifted a brow at me.

“I’m not going to ask him,” I stated firmly. “It’s his secret to keep until he decides to reveal it.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Haylee pressed. “What’s Justin’s mother’s name? Maybe she lives in town.”

I was so irritated that I nearly spilled the beans about Justin’s history. But just as I recalled what he had revealed to me, I had an epiphany.

I reread the date of Rosie’s last entry, and after some quick math, I realized that I knew why she never came forth with her story.

It was because she was already dead.