"No, my mom never told me anything about her family or her disappearance. I didn't even know you existed until I bought the house." I struggled to keep my voice steady as I explained; emotions threatened to spill over. "The only thing she ever said was not to investigate her past; she had no family, and my dad couldn't be with us."
"She never told you about any of us?" he asked again with disappointment lacing his words.
"No, I'm sorry. I bought the house because I wanted to put roots down somewhere, and when I saw the pictures, it called to me," I say, hoping he understands my meaning.
"What do you mean it called you?" Donovan asks curiously.
"Ok, how do I explain this. It was a feeling of home; I belonged there and had to be there." I looked at him as I spoke the words, trying to gauge whether he understood me or not. He just studied me with a look of disbelief on his face.
"What can I do to help you?" he asked, looking between Andy and me. Andy had been quiet the whole time, letting us talk.
"Can you tell us about that night and what happened?" Andy asked the question I was most curious about.
Donovan takes a deep breath and nods. "All of us kids were upstairs in our rooms, and mom and dad were in the family room watching TV. I was lying on my bed, thinking of ways to help your mom convince Dad to let her keep you, when I heard a loud knock at the front door. I'm guessing Dad got up to answer it, and I heard yelling. When I looked over the banister into the entryway, I saw men in ski masks with guns pointed at our parents. I quickly ran to my younger siblings' rooms, got them out through the window with their backpacks, and told them to wait in the tree line. Then I ran to Amber's room and helped her through the window. We could hear Dad screaming in pain and Mom yelling to stop hurting him." His voice reveals the anguish as he recalls these terrible memories. "Someone was trying to break down Amber's door, so I snuck onto the roof and re-entered my room through the window. I grabbed my bag, snuck back out, and climbed down the ladder. Everyone should have been waiting by the tree line, except Mom and Dad. When I arrived, no one was there. I don't know if they got lost, scared, or were captured by the men. I did what Dad told me: to get everyone out and keep going, hoping to catch up." He lowers his head, placing it in his hands, then sobs.
Our family's struggles weigh heavily on my heart. I rise and move closer, enveloping Donovan in a comforting embrace. At first, he hesitates, but then he returns the hug, his grip firm. I glance at Andy and see tears glistening in his eyes. In this moment, our shared pain draws us together, forging a deep emotional bond. As Donovan releases me from the hug, his eyes, filled with a mix of sorrow and determination, meet Andy's.
"I'm sorry you missed out on your daughter's life. I really thought Amber had gone to you, even though I had told her it would be dangerous because of your father."
"It's okay, man. It wasn't your fault; you were just a kid, too. You were right—my dad isn't a good person, which is why I distanced myself from him right away. The only thing that matters now is that I found my little girl, or rather, she found me," Andy says, smiling at me.
"Uncle Donovan," I say cautiously, "Did you recognize any of the men's voices?" It had been many years, but I hoped he would at least know who one of them was. He shook his head yes.
"I'm pretty sure one was Ted, who lived across the street from us." His revelation shocks us both. My breath catches in my throat, and a shiver runs down my spine. We've had numerous encounters with this man. His vehement opposition to our moving in suddenly makes sense. The room is filled with a palpable sense of fear and suspense as we digest this unsettling information.
"What's wrong?" Donovan demanded.
"Ted still lives across the street," I state, a shiver running down my spine as I recall the encounters. "He threatened Zeke and me the day we moved in, and not too long ago, I caught him looking through the window by the front door, watching my every move. I called the sheriff's office both times, but good ol' Gramps dismissed it every time. He just sends his deputies to talk with him, but it never seems to deter him."
"Wait, what?" Andy asks in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me he was looking through the windows?" He seems both concerned and upset that I excluded this detail during our conversations over the past few weeks. It wasn't because I didn't trust him; I didn't want to cause unnecessary worry. We're still navigating our father-daughter relationship, trying to find a balance between trust and protection, and it's not always easy.
"Because Zeke and I handled it," I respond, hoping he understands. We are trying to live in the now and not let the fear of the unknown control our lives.
"You're telling me that creep is still living in his parents' home?" Donovan growled.
"Has my father bugged you anymore?" Andy asked demandingly at the same time.
"No, I haven't heard from your father, which scares me a little, and yes, Ted still lives across the street; he's still creepy," I confessed. The silence from my grandfather — the sheriff, the man who has become a looming presence in my life — is unsettling. It fuels my suspicion and fear, making me wonder what he might be planning.
Andy looked worried and said, "He's still searching for the paperwork. You should hide it or destroy it."
"Wait, what paperwork?" Donovan asked, his curiosity piqued. The mention of paperwork seemed to add another layer of mystery to our already complicated situation.
"When we first moved into the house, we found various paperwork related to the family, the sheriff, and even Ted. These documents were stored in different places around the house. For instance, I found some behind a small door in the dining room wall and others hidden beneath a floorboard in the attic." I opened my bag, pulled out the files, and laid them on the table in front of my uncle and father. They took a moment to examine each folder and paper, clearly stunned by what we had uncovered. Donovan reached over and touched my hand to get my attention.
"Your dad's right, you need to get this paperwork out of that house." Donovan looked worried about the paperwork. I understand they are afraid and scared for me, but we needed them to identify who hurt our family—gathering the paperwork into a pile, explaining why I'm not getting rid of it.
"I can't do that now. I need to hold onto this paperwork. Until we find someone unconnected to that town who can help us reveal the sheriff and Ted's wrongdoings, maybe they will lead us to the mastermind behind our family's disappearance or to Grandma and Grandpa's resting places. This will help us gauge their involvement," I explained, feeling the weight of the papers as a constant reminder of the secrets they contained. I quickly tucked it back into my bag, feeling relieved knowing it was safe with me.
"I have a contact at the FBI who's been helping me recently with the case of my parents' murders, your grandparents. Let me talk to him; maybe he can assist us," Donovan said. I wasn't sure if I could trust this person, my uncle mentioned. Even though I showed him the paperwork, I'm still wary of my uncle himself. He hasn't given me a reason to doubt him, but recent events have made me paranoid about everyone, even Andy sometimes. Letting them look at the paperwork is one thing, but relinquishing is another. He was trying to help us, and the distrust isn't fair, so I decided to put my faith in him instead.
"Ok, if he can help us, let me know," I say.
"Roxanne, please be careful," Uncle Donovan exclaims. "You need to get away from that house for your safety. I know your mom would want you to."
"I can't. I need to find out who did this. Thank you for providing more details. I would like to stay in touch and get to know you better. Perhaps one day, once everything is over, you can visit the house again," my tone was hopeful yet determined.
"Maybe one day, I'm going to start searching and see if I can find our other two siblings. Knowing that Amber got out ok gives me hope they are still alive too," He says, a hopeful smile playing on his lips.
Reaching back into my bag, my hand grazes Mom's journal. Grabbing it, I place it on the table too. Donovan looks over at it and picks it up. He runs his hand over the worn cover.
"She used to write in this journal every night before bed," he says lovingly, then smiles, looking at Andy. "If I remember right, a lot of the entries were about you." Both men chuckle.
"I doubt that," Andy replied thoughtfully. The rest of the visit was spent with Andy and Donovan sharing stories and reminiscing about my mom and family. It was nice to learn more about what she was like growing up. I wish she could have shared these stories herself instead of hearing them secondhand, but that chance was ripped away from her the night she had to flee for her life and mine.
As we left the café, I hugged my uncle once more, and we promised to meet again soon. Andy and he exchanged a hand-clasped hug, a gesture guys often do. It made me giggle. We watched him walk away to his car. After he drove off, we headed home. It had been a long day, and I was ready to sleep, cuddled up to Zeke.
"You ok, sweetheart?" Andy asked as we pulled onto the main road.
"Yeah, it was just all a little overwhelming. Especially hearing what happened that night. I was grateful to meet and talk to my uncle, though," I said truthfully.
"Get some rest. I'll wake you when we get home," he says gently. I follow his advice, lying back in my seat and closing my eyes. It wasn't long before sleep took over; I was exhausted. It seemed like I had just fallen asleep when Andy shook me awake, announcing we had arrived home. I felt a bit guilty for not staying awake to keep him company, but my system was overloaded.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have fallen asleep on you," I say, hoping he wasn't upset.
"You're fine, kid. You were tired," He said as we exited the car. He walked into the house with me to say hi to Zeke, who was sitting in the living room eating pizza. We both chuckled at the sight of him lying on the couch with a pizza box on his stomach, looking comfortable.
"Hey guys, how did the visit go?" Zeke asks, sitting up and placing the box on the coffee table.
"It was good," I say, sitting next to him on the couch. Andy sits down in the recliner and starts to tell Zeke about our visit with Donovan. We are interrupted by a loud knocking on the front door. "I'll get it, you guys keep talking." I was beginning to dread the sound of loud knocking on our front door. I sigh, knowing it was usually someone I didn't want to deal with, and I was right: when the door swung open, the Sheriff stood there, staring at me with eyes full of rage, his body tense.
"Well, Sheriff, this is beginning to become repetitive," I smirked.