Chapter 39: Relatable

My brain was working overtime to discredit Sienna. Images of Justin’s sweet face swam into my vision, and when I attempted to contort his features into the monster Sienna perceived him to be, all I could imagine was his boyish expression.

Suddenly, I realized that Maggie was still watching me, and I hurried to shake the images away.

“We should rejoin the others,” I suggested.

Maggie appeared as if she wanted to say more, but suddenly I heard my mother’s footsteps on the stairs.

Desperate to escape Maggie’s penetrating gaze, I fled from the room so I could intercept my mother before she reached the kitchen. She had just finished her descent as I entered the foyer.

“I have everyone corralled in the kitchen,” I told her as I dropped a peck on her cheek. “I’m going upstairs to get my laptop.”

“Don’t spend the entire day online,” she warned me.

“I won’t,” I said over my shoulder as I began my ascent. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” she called after me.

I remained at the top of the stairwell, and once I was sure everyone had departed, I returned to my room to gather my phone and laptop. I would camp out in the den for the day, just in case the police returned with news.

With my phone stuffed in my pocket, I gathered Rosie’s journal and laptop so I could set up shop in the den. Propping my laptop on the arm of the couch, I opened the diary and began to flip through the pages.

At the beginning of the journal, Rosie punctuated everything with tiny hearts—even when she was ranting. It was as if it was a habit. But as the journal progressed, those hearts disappeared.

But the changes went beyond her punctuation. In the beginning, she was hopeful and optimistic, but as her life deteriorated, so did her mindset.

By the end of the diary, she was punctuating her sentences with angry dashes. I was amazed that one girl’s life could completely unravel in such a short period of time.

Just a few days ago, I had found Rosie’s experiences shocking and alien. But now, as my life began to spiral out of control, she seemed more relatable.

I put aside the diary before I could start making comparisons that would leave me hopelessly depressed, and instead I turned to my laptop.

Though my search bar suggested I resume investigating Andrew Jackson Jones, I decided to take a different route.

Justin had not mentioned how old he was when his mother was killed, but he did say his father located him when he was about three. So, after some quick math, I began searching murder-suicides of those years.

I skipped the articles that mentioned fratricide and sororicides but no suicide, then I skimmed the articles that matched my search requirements and discounted the ones that involved anyone over the age of thirty.

Eventually I stumbled upon a story that seemed to check all the boxes, and when I read the name of the woman involved, a chill crept down my spine.

~Angie Pearson.~

I recalled the vision of Rosie in the hospital bed; the nurse had called her Ms. Pearson.

I read the article. “~A heartbreaking incident unfolded in a Louisiana home as twenty-four-year-old Angie Pearson was found deceased in the living room, the victim of an apparent murder-suicide perpetrated by her brother, Carter Pearson, aged twenty.~

“~Authorities confirmed that Angie was fatally shot by her brother, who then turned the gun on himself in the yard outside their residence. The motive behind the tragic event remains unclear as investigators continue to piece together the circumstances surrounding the case.~

“~A minor child living in the home was found unharmed. The child has been placed in the care of child protective services as the investigation continues.~”

I zeroed in on the speculation about Carter’s—Jacob’s—motive as I recalled the darkness that had floated over him and Rosie in the hospital room. The same cloud that had floated over Dan and Karen in the yard.

Had that darkness influenced Jacob into murdering his sister?

Had Melinda poisoned her family for the same reason?

I was so inundated with research that I didn’t realize that the morning had flown by, and it was now well past noon.

I lay back to rest my eyes, keeping my phone near my head because I was expecting a call from my mother. I felt as if I had just closed my eyes when the doorbell rang.

My eyes flew open, and for a moment I was startled by the darkness. The doorbell chimed again as reality set in, and I realized that I had fallen asleep in the den.

I fumbled for the lamp switch when whoever was at the door began rapping on the glass.

“I’m coming!” I called as I raced down the hall, only pausing to turn on the hallway light so I wouldn’t stumble.

I threw open the door, expecting to find Detective Dunn, but to my surprise, it was Justin.

“What are you doing here?” I exclaimed, fumbling as I hurried to clarify, “I mean…I thought you had joined one of the search parties.”

“That’s what I’m here about.” He paused before asking, “Have you spoken with your mother yet?”

“She was supposed to call me when they took a lunch break.” I stopped as I had a horrifying thought, “Why? Is she all right?”

He threw up his hands, as if to wave away my concerns. “She’s fine, as far as I’m aware.”

I used the back of my hand to wipe the perspiration from my brow. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry about that,” he flushed and glanced down at his shoes. “Perhaps I should have announced that all is well—for the moment, at least.”

He appeared so boyish that the glacier that had formed as a barrier around my heart began to melt.

My mind cautioned me to remain firm, and though I knew I should listen to it, it was competing with the scent of his musk that caused a stirring in my lower extremities.

“May I come in?” he asked.

I hesitated. I wanted to resist, but my hormones were powerful.

I stepped back to allow him access. “We can talk in the den,” I told him as I began to lead the way down the hall. “I’ve been nesting in there all afternoon.”

I hurried to relocate my research tools to the end table and shuffled around the couch pillows to clear a place to sit.

Aware of the effect he was having on me, I casually sat on the other end of the sofa, hoping the distance would prevent me from throwing myself into his arms and begging him to forgive me for ever doubting him.

“You said you had something to tell me?” I asked as soon as we were situated.

“They may have found something,” he said. “They blocked off the road to the lake, and when I was on my way home, I had to pull over for an ambulance that was heading in that direction.”

“An ambulance?” I repeated, feeling hopeful. “They wouldn’t deploy an ambulance unless somebody required medical attention, would they?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Justin responded.

I picked up my phone and attempted to call my mother, but the voice on the other end informed me that the number I was attempting to reach was out of service.

I furrowed my brow and gazed at my phone as the message was repeated. “It says my mother’s phone is out of service.”

“She may still be with the search team that was covering the other side of the lake,” Justin explained. “The service out there is lousy.”

“She was supposed to call if she heard any news,” I complained as I made another attempt.

Justin scooted over and guided my phone away from my ear. “I’m sure she will call you as soon as she has service.”

Though my inner voice was reminding me that more important things were at stake, I couldn’t control the bolts of electricity that shot through my body as our skin made contact.

And when Justin leaned in so close that his lips brushed against mine, I lost all my resolve.