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Chapter Seven
Ricki
I know I shouldn’t be doing this. Landon is going to be furious. I know how stupid it is, but I also know my dad shouldn’t be home until well after I’m gone. I decide that jumping up and climbing through my old bedroom window is as good a way in as any. I pull myself up, wincing when my side catches on the old metal frame of the trailer, and I know that’s going to leave a mark.
I was hoping to get in and out of here as fast as possible. Before my father came home and before Landon had the chance to wake up. It’s the middle of the night, and I left Landon passed out in bed after two rounds of amazing, incredible sex. I know he thought he wore me out, and granted, he very much did. However, my mind has been racing all day with thoughts of my mother.
It got to a point where I thought I was going absolutely crazy. I talked to Bailey and the girls earlier about it, and they understood my pain. I told them about everything, finally breaking down at the thought of having girlfriends to confide in… and that’s exactly what they’ve become to me over the last few weeks. Friends. Girls who are actually real friends. I told them about my father and everything he’s put me through. That’s when Lexi cut in with her master plan, as she calls it. I could tell automatically we were going to be best friends. Not just because our boyfriends are brothers, but she’s not the goody-goody type either, while Bailey and Rissa seem to be on the more safe side of things. I love each of them for who they are in their own way, but Lexi, of course, thinks a lot like me. Which brings me back to why I’m here.
Lexi’s actually the one who suggested breaking into the trailer while my dad was gone and trying to find any information I could. The other girls swore they wouldn’t mention it to the guys, and we came up with the plan. They couldn’t believe I had never ventured to my dad’s room before to snoop around, but honestly, before now I had been too terrified to find out. I was still holding onto hope he would tell me what I wanted to know. Now I promised them I would text them the minute I got in the house and the minute I got out. If I didn’t check in every ten minutes, they would call Landon. I roll my eyes when my phone lights up with Bailey’s name.
“It’s been seven minutes,” I whisper to her as I’m making my way through the dark house.
“I know, but I’m nervous as hell. Lexi dropped by my house, and I also called Rissa. They are on the phone now,” Bailey says, whispering. I want to laugh because she’s safe and sound at her own home, so I don’t know why she would be whispering.
“Make sure you don’t use a lot of light. Don’t want your neighbors seeing someone sneaking around and calling the cops,” Lexi tells me, and I snort.
“You’ve been to this side of town, right? The cops are the last thing people call when they need something,” I say and hear Rissa start with her beautiful and hilarious statistics.
“Did you know one in five burglaries are actually…” I don’t finish listening to her as I slowly open my father’s bedroom door and start snooping around. I make my way to the closet first, rummaging through, not finding anything.
“You got anything yet?” Lexi asks.
“No, closets clean, nothing there,” I tell them as the nerves start to leave and frustration kicks in.
“Check his dresser. Guys leave all their junk in dressers,” Bailey tells me, and I rummage through there. I check the whole room over twice, still not finding anything while the girls talk in my ear, giving helpful suggestions. I’m just about to turn and leave when the floor creaks under my foot right at the edge of the old, nasty stained carpet. I bend, lifting it up, and I can see a loose floorboard under the carpet. I rip it up, and an old wooden box is hidden under the floor.
“I think I found something,” I tell the girls, and they squeal in excitement.
“It’s a wooden box under the floor,” I tell them.
“Well, open it. What’s in it? I’m dying here,” Lexi says excitedly and exasperated. Bailey giggles, and I place the box on the floor before opening the latch and flipping the box open. I gasp at the sight in front of me.
“There’s some kind of handkerchief inside with what looks like blood on it,” I say, as it’s the first thing I see. I start pulling things out, looking over everything, and explaining it all to the girls. With everything all spread out before me, I’m staring at my last connection to my mother, or what’s left of her belongings.
From a lock of her blonde hair that looks just like mine to the pearls I remember seeing her wear every day around her neck. Memories of my mother and how much she loved me come flooding back. Painful memories of her unconditional love I’ve blocked out. A picture sits just under her pearls, and right away, I know it’s a picture of her and me. I remember sitting in the swing in the park as she smiled down at me and someone snapped the picture. I look just like my mom, with the same small frame, white long blonde hair, and big green eyes.
“I miss her so much,” I tell the girls on the phone, tears clear in my voice.
“Babe, do we need to call Landon?” Bailey asks at the same time Lexi yells.
“I’m grabbing my shit and coming to get you.” Followed by,
“Swing by my house on the way and pick me up on the way, Lex,” comes from Rissa, and that one surprises me. She’s the quiet one who would rather be alone or with Dean than sneaking into places and getting into trouble.
“I’m almost done, you guys. No need to come by,” I tell them, pulling more trinkets out of the box.
“There’s a news article from around the time my mom left,” I say, reading it over and over again.
“No, this can’t be happening,” I whisper as I pick up another news article and then another; Each one depicting a missing woman. One saying she ran away, one saying she was kidnapped, another saying she just left. Then, through my tears, I see the last one, the very last piece of newspaper at the bottom of the box.
“Body of missing Alabama woman found shot and buried two miles from…..”
I can’t finish reading. I let the paper slip through my hands as I rush to stand, kicking over the box and the rest of the items in it. They scatter across the floor as I stand and rush out of the house that only holds the worst memories for me, but before I can leave, a figure leans in the doorway, and I scream. There, staring at me with evil in his eyes, is my father. The man who murdered my mother.
“Finally figured it out, didn’t ‘cha? Took you long enough. I thought I had plenty of time to sell you off and get some good money from you before you found out. Had a buyer lined up and everything, but then you took off. Now they want my head for not delivering,” he tells me, clearly pissed.
“Why? Why did you kill her?” I ask him, and he laughs menacingly.
