House of Fire (Unraveled Series) (18 page)

Evie had grown to
love the library from an early age; it had been a solace away from her
distorted and lonely childhood. She had logged countless hours in the nooks and
crannies of the library, curling up to her favorite characters like Scout Finch
and Tom Sawyer who became her friends in a friendless life. Her life wasn’t
much different today.

When Estelle finally
put down the receiver, she turned to Evie and beckoned her to follow her down
the stairs. Evie watched as the plump woman emerged from behind the counter in
her ill-fitting, faded Dockers and waddled to the stairs. Estelle grabbed the
handle and descended into the darkness before the motion light flicked on. The
rows of historical and reference documents filled the metal filing cabinets,
but the
Oconto Times
wouldn’t be there, not in print anyway.

“We haven’t finished
converting all the microfiche to digital images,” Estelle started as she
stopped at a bulky machine Evie had remembered from childhood. She had only
used a microfiche once, more than twenty years ago. Even then, the machinery
was completely antiquated. Evie was used to the latest technology in her
position at Parker Enterprises. The library was publically funded, though,
unlike Parker Enterprises. Evie sighed as she pulled up the chair.

“Oconto Times, huh?”
Estelle asked as she turned the machine on. It let out a low groan, echoing
through the stacks of papers and fluorescent lighting. Estelle walked to a
stack of cardboard boxes that reached her frumpy chest - Estelle was in
desperate need of breast support, just like her predecessor - and counted three
boxes down. She moved the first with a moan before Evie hopped up to help move
the next two.

“Here it is. This
spans thirty years,” Estelle added as she handed Evie the box. “Have you ever
used one before?”

“A long time ago.”
Evie slid into the chair, wiping her nose at the musty smell.

“Good, because I
don’t know how and the pimple-faced kid who is converting the files isn’t
here,” she said before catching herself, “Good kid, though. Smart. All the kids
these days are so smart, but he needs some benzoyl peroxide for that face of
his.”

“Thanks, I’ll get
it,” Evie said as she waved her hand at Estelle and forced a smile - brutal
honesty in her aging years mixed in with the Midwest’s “do no harm.” The woman
turned and wandered back up the stairs, leaving Evie with the whirring of a
machine more than fifty years old.

Evie slid the film
through the machine, working through the dials and knobs until she managed to
get a blurry image on the screen after a frustrating fifteen minutes. She
leaned forward, wiping the sweat from her brow as she made out the headline on
the screen.
The Oconto Times
. 1965. It was a start. She filtered through
the film, trying to make out the black faded markings on the tabs. 1977. She
was getting closer. She flipped a few more, 1991. Too far. She would have been
four.

She maneuvered the
film through the machine again, the whirring sound vibrating through the air as
it worked to produce the image. She caught the image of a bulldozer scraping
the ground. The caption read “Family farm purchased by anonymous bidder.” She
ran her hand along her cotton trouser shorts, the sweat leaving a damp mark as
she scanned the article. The family farm belonged to a Michael and Ann Jones.

23

June 17 - 9:47 a.m

“Did you see her face?”
Delaney’s body leaned back as she moved down the hill alongside the black
fence. Holston’s estate - Delaney couldn’t classify it as a house - disappeared
behind them as they moved into the brush of the woods. Mark had been silent for
a solid two to three minutes.

“Yeah, I did,” he
finally said beside her. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,”
Delaney replied as they moved onto the path. Their steps moved in a slow,
methodic unison, both dreading the reality they had just witnessed.

“Maybe I should call
him again,” Mark offered. “Maybe Mom was just panicked that we saw her.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Mark was silent.

“The police,” Mark
reluctantly recited.

“Not yet,” Delaney
hesitated, not wanting to call Sanchez. Something about him had seemed
trustworthy and reliable, except for the bit about showing up at the gun range.
Sanchez could be one of many, and Delaney wasn’t ready to risk it. Holston had
skated out of the barn debacle with a so-called drug deal gone bad. He had
covered up the death of Elizabeth. Holston Parker made people and situations
disappear.

“Maybe we should call
Evie,” Delaney suggested, not sure if she could handle the magnitude of the
small woman, but she seemed to have a better handle on this; after all, Holston
was her father. She had to know more by now. She had come back to finish what
she had started the first time around.

“She didn’t want
anyone to know she was here,” Mark said, his voice slow as he processed the
words. “Why wouldn’t she want anyone to know?”

“Mark, she knows about
her father. She’s the one that told me about his…” she paused as she saw a
middle-aged woman walking toward them, “…hit man.”

“Evie knows about
this?” Mark asked, raising his arms in frustration. “Why the hell didn’t she go
to the police? What the hell is going on?”

“Look, Mark,” Delaney
stopped in the middle of the path, the beginning of the trail - including the
waiting James and Michael - was only ten feet away. “We can’t sit out here for
thirty minutes talking about what all happened while James and Dad sit in the
car. I know you’re not going to believe even ten percent of the things that I
tell you, but you have to trust me. You can’t tell anyone about this, either.
Not even the police.”

“The police? Jesus,
Delaney.”

“I know. Do you
promise?”

“Go.” Mark’s eyes
settled onto Delaney’s, unmoving as she began. Delaney felt like a crypt was
opening up, a key turning inside her body to release everything about the past
winter.

“Do you remember when
I went in the ditch on my way to Milwaukee? You picked me up,” Delaney waved
her hand in a circle motioning to the events. “Just before you got there, a guy
by the name of Gunnar showed up and made me watch him kill a man in his trunk.”

Mark’s face contorted
as he ran his hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his head.
“Holy shit, Delaney. You saw someone get murdered and didn’t go to the police?
But what does that have to do with Holston?”

“That’s when it all
started. Gunnar was his hit man. I was scared,” Delaney insisted before she
felt the rage build in her body. This is why she hadn’t told Mark or anyone
else. She had incriminated herself by not going to the police in the first
place after she watched Rowan get murdered. Not to mention Theron’s jacket,
lying to Sanchez, and killing the man in the barn. She had played the game in
fear, protecting her family and doing anything to find Theron. Now she needed
to keep Holston Parker at bay. “Forget it.”

Delaney surged past
Mark as he sputtered behind her. “
Was
his hit man? Delaney, you should
have told someone. You should have told me.”

“Like I tried to
now?” she shot behind her back. Delaney saw James’s SUV parked with the hazards
blinking on the side of the road. She stormed forward.

“So that’s it?” Mark
hissed alongside of her. “What are we going to tell them about Mom?”

“I don’t know,” she
said. “You seem to know what the right thing is all the time. So figure it
out.”

“Does James know any
of this?”

“No. No one knows
anything,” Delaney started before she rethought her answer. “Except for Holston
and Evie, of course.”

Mark stopped, the
sound of his flip flops silencing once again.

“Change those shoes
when we get back,” Delaney said as she walked around the back of the SUV and
climbed into the seat. Her heart swelled in her chest as she forced a weak smile
toward Michael Jones.

“I take it that you
didn’t find her,” Michael said. His eyebrows fell, his eyes moistened with
worry. “I shouldn’t have let her go alone. Not where she isn’t familiar.”

“Dad, it’s not your
fault,” Delaney replied as she put her hand on his knee and gave it a small
pat. He looked up and covered her hand with his own. Michael Jones’s ‘pat on
the knee’ had comforted Delaney since she was young; it was his classic move in
protecting his daughter, and she was taking a mild stab at it. She hoped, for
his sake, that it was comforting. Her gesture did nothing for her.

“Did you ask anyone
if they saw her?” James asked behind the wheel.

“We did ask if anyone
saw her, but they didn’t.” Mark stopped, not sure how to tell them what they
had seen. Delaney’s eyes penetrated him; if he wasn’t going to tell them, then
she would. They had to do something.

“Where do you want me
to go?” James asked, rubbing the wheel in his hands.

“We saw her,” Mark
finally released. He turned around to face Michael.

“What?” Michael
asked, pulling his hand from Delaney’s to grab the seat ahead of him. “You saw
her?”

“She -” Mark started.

“Where? Why didn’t
she come back with you?” Michael yelled, his rigid body leaning forward.

“She was with Holston
Parker,” Delaney finished, promptly pulling her hand back from her father’s
knee. “James, let’s go back to Mark’s.”

“What do you mean?”
Michael asked.

“Holston Parker lives
just on the other side of this trail,” Mark said, pointing to the trees as
James pulled ahead and turned to go in the opposite direction. “We saw her in
his house.”

“But why would she go
there?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know if she
went there on her own or if she was forced,” Delaney added, feeling the panic
rise in her own voice. She took a breath, wanting to stay calm for her dad. He
couldn’t know about who Holston Parker really was, not yet, with his wife under
Holston’s grip. “But I think she might be in trouble. We need to do something.”

“Why do you think
she’s in trouble?” Michael asked, turning to Delaney. “What the hell is going
on?”

“Mom knew Holston
Parker, Dad. I know it’s hard to believe, but she did. And something happened. It
could have been before she met you. I don’t know, but we saw her in his car.
They were leaving, and she saw me. She was panicked. Her eyes were panicked,
Dad,” Delaney finished with a whisper.

“Mark, who is this
boss of yours? What do you know about him?” Michael demanded. “I think we
should call the police.”

“Dad, I don’t know if
we should yet,” Delaney interrupted.

“I think we should if
you think she is in danger,” Michael yelled.

“I’m going to try to
give him a call again. I don’t want to call the police if it’s just a
misunderstanding. Mom could have been panicked to see Delaney. We don’t know,”
Mark offered as he slipped out his phone.

“Call that son of a
bitch and tell him to return my wife,” Michael grumbled in the seat as he hung
onto the handle of the roof as James turned into the subdivision. Delaney twisted
toward her father; Michael Jones didn’t swear. He was pissed -
real pissed
.
She didn’t blame him.

“Does Mom have the
cell phone on her?” Delaney asked.

“Of course not. The
only time that she needs it, she forgets it. I always remind her to bring it on
her walks at home, but I wasn’t thinking this morning. Neither was she,
clearly,” Michael said as he looked out the window. The familiar houses
returned; more kids flocked to the driveways and lawns as the morning dew
dissipated and the summer sun warmed.

“He didn’t answer,”
Mark said quietly from the front.

“Do you have any idea
where they might go?” James asked, opening his mouth for the first time in the
stifling drive back to Mark’s.

“No,” Mark replied as
he tapped the door.

But I know who
might
. Delaney
had Evie’s number on her phone, which was still sitting on her nightstand. Evie
might know. James veered to the right, pulling the SUV along the street in
front of Mark’s house. Regina stood in the same spot in her lawn, the baby
still attached to her body. Delaney groaned as they all got out of the vehicle
with Regina fast approaching. The baby jiggled, her chubby arms and legs
flailing as her carrier rushed forward across the lawn.

“Did you find her?”
Regina asked Delaney, a phone now gripped in her hand.

“We haven’t, but we
might have an idea where she is,” Delaney lied.

“Well, when you were
gone, I decided to give a friend of mine a call. I hope you don’t mind,” Regina
started. The baby fussed underneath her.

“Thanks, Regina, but
we have it covered.” Delaney began walking up the driveway with Michael on the
other side of her.

“I don’t think it
would hurt. He’s going to make a quick stop. He said he knew you,” Regina said.

“Who is it?” Delaney
stopped and turned to the small woman and baby following her.

“Police Chief
Sanchez.”

Shit.

“That’s great news,”
Michael replied, poking his head around his daughter. Anger flushed through
Delaney’s body as she studied Regina’s face.
A corrupt businessman
controlling a corrupt police force.
There was no way out of this.

Delaney pursed her
lips and let out a curt, “Thanks,” before pushing up the driveway and into the
house. She left Regina and her father talking on the driveway as she bolted
through the house, passing the stares of James and Mark as she flew to her
phone. She slid through the screens and punched in the text to Evie with
shaking hands:
Ann is gone. I need your help. 456 Nature Lane. The police
are on their way - D.

Delaney exhaled, her
back still turned to the door when James came up behind her. She jumped as his
hands grazed her shoulders.