House of V (Unraveled Series) (10 page)

In the beginning, Sister Josephine
had taken
Evie
in with a tender hand, hoping that she
would be able to provide any ounce of normalcy that she could to the young
girl. She had coddled her, wrapping
Evie
close into
her warm arms. She would do anything to protect this little girl from Holston.
As the teenage years wore on, Sister Josephine could see the change in
Evie
from a shy, little girl to a hardened, questioning
young woman. Sister Josephine had marked it off at first, blaming the usual
adolescence to the abrupt change, yet she’d had it wrong.

Evie
had
discovered what Sister Josephine had known all along; a past and truth she only
knew in the darkest whispers. But Sister Josephine had closed her ears long
before
Evie
was a teenager for fear of what she would
hear. She knew who Holston was, to some degree, but she couldn’t bring herself
to confront her guardian angel.

And despite how hard she had tried
to keep the truth from her,
Evie
had uncovered the
evil that resided inside Holston Parker. Neither of them, up until the FBI and
police had discovered the remains of the bodies in the
Hinske’s
backyards, had actually known how desperate and evil he had become. Sister
Josephine had turned a blind eye much earlier, praying that it wasn’t as bad as
she’d thought.

Sister Josephine had been wrong and
for that, she was truly remorseful. She should have taken
Evie
away as a child. Holston wouldn’t have stopped her then. He still had a soft
spot for Sister Josephine then; he still had some sliver of humanity buried
deep inside. Still, he had transformed over the years, becoming more aggressive
and violent in the quiet of the Church when no one was looking. She saw it in
his black eyes. He had sins that he desperately wanted to rid himself of. More
death wasn’t going to take the sins away, she knew that, and as much as she
tried to convince him of that, he never listened.

She slipped her feet into the
slippers waiting along the bed. Their softness enveloped her feet and comforted
her as she moved toward the nightstand. She pulled the rosary off it and rolled
the small beads between her fingers.

She had prayed last night just
before the clock had hit midnight for strength and endurance as God continued
His plan. She hoped that God’s plan would end more mercifully for herself than
it had for Father
Haskens
. She also prayed for the
man who had given Father
Haskens
the heart attack.
She prayed for the same man that had left the note for her to find the light in
his heart to stop whatever he was planning.

Her feet moved beneath her, walking
her toward the door, before she stopped momentarily to see her own reflection.
She ran her fingers through the silvery strands mixed with the slightest bit of
brown and wondered where the time had gone. Her mind flashed back to the early
days of the convent school. So much joy and excitement had flooded through her
as she had embarked on the journey with her fellow sisters. It seemed like so
long ago and so many years had passed since then. Those years were filled with
times of joy and servitude working with Father
Haskens
.

Heavy bags were forming under her
eyes, a sign of stress she had never endured before. She poked them with her
index finger, feeling the squishiness of her skin. She couldn’t let the worry
of the note get to her. She had a job to do. She had to prepare a proper burial
for Father
Haskens
. She would take her chances on the
police and God.

Sister Josephine turned back to the
door, listening and waiting to hear the sounds of Carol in the kitchen, but
instead heard nothing. Her breath quickened as she pushed the door open. She
poked her head out into the hall, but it was empty.

“Carol?” she called into the
hallway.

No response. Her voice was alone in
Carol’s house. She reached her hand to grasp the statue of the guardian angel.
Her fingers curled around the glass, gripping it tightly as she moved into the
hallway. She told herself to breathe. No one was here. Whoever it was that was
looking for her wouldn’t find her here.

She had been silent about staying
here and had just ducked into the house late last night. Besides, she had gone
through the house again after Carol had gone to bed. She had checked every
window and door, locking every single one. Then she went through the house
again. She was sure she would have heard someone coming in. She was an
incredibly light sleeper who jumped at every door slam and extra gust of the
wind.

Sister Josephine crept into the
kitchen, her slippers soft against the linoleum of the floor. She looked at the
neon lights of the microwave. They glowed back at her with surprising numbers.
8:15.
She
couldn’t remember the last time she had
slept in so late. The exhaustion and sleepless nights were finally getting to
her.

A small thud sounded behind her.

Her heart pulsed as she whipped
around, raising the statue high in the air. She wouldn’t let this man take her.
She would fight and scream until he begged her to stop. He wouldn’t know what
hit him. She held the statue ready to strike, expecting to see a dark outline
of a man before her. Instead, she stared at Carol’s gray cat, Mittens, licking
its paws with a soft, glowing expression.

It’s just a cat
, she told
herself, trying to catch her breath. She placed her hand on the counter when
her eyes landed on a note next to the cat. She shooed the cat away, and Mittens
meowed gently before jumping down.

Sister Josephine, I went to
Church to work on a few things this morning. Call me if you need anything. I
think we should focus on the funeral arrangements this afternoon. I should be
back around lunchtime. Carol.

Carol was at Church. She felt her
fingers loosen their grip on the statue, her arm relaxing enough to set it on
the counter next to the note.

It’s just a note, Josephine.
But the note she had found yesterday had been one she’d never expected to
receive. She would go to the police, right after she made a stop at the Church.
She gazed at the face of the angel statue, praying that despite what he had
done, that Holston was looking over her from wherever he was, whether it was
Heaven or Hell.

9

June 19, 4:00 p.m
.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin

I was in a Milwaukee Police Station.
More specifically, District
Four
, according to the
sign on the one-story building. The building was at the northern most point of
the city, just two hours south of the town I left a year ago for good. Appleton
seemed too eerily close for me.

The nuances of Wisconsin accents
and mannerisms greeted me at the door. It started with Betty the building
administrator, who smiled voraciously at me even though I was a fugitive. Then
there was another officer who politely said hello to me as he walked by on our
way to the interrogation room. I was back in the Midwest, there was no doubt.

I found myself in an interrogation
room where James was already waiting for me. I wasn’t sure if he was happy to
see me, although he gave me a meager smile and head nod anyway. Delaney and the
other two officers waited outside the door as I slid into a seat next to James
whose suit jacket was already off, his tie loosened around his neck.

He forced another smile and ran his
fingers through his hair, tapping the manila folder on the table. I was sure
that he wasn’t happy to see me. If your only memory of someone is watching that
person kill three other people, I imagine it’s hard to see that individual in a
different light. Plus, James typically didn’t deal with criminals. He was a
transaction lawyer, dealing with business acquisitions and contracts. He didn’t
step into a courtroom, ever. He probably wasn’t the best person to represent
me, but I didn’t exactly have a contact list for lawyers that represented
criminals.

“
Evie
.”

“James.” I replied, my mind
flashing to the last memory of him. He was bleeding out on the couch, thanks to
Holston. “All healed up?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning closer to
me. “Off the record, I never got a chance to thank you. Probably not the best
time to be doing this, but thank you for saving my life.”

“No problem.” This made me crack a
small smile. It was the first glint of relief I’d felt since arriving in the
states. I stared at my brother-in-law, trying to force my mind to wrap around
the fact that he was just that - my brother-in-law.
My
family.
But it didn’t stick.

I was grateful that Sanchez took a
seat across from me. He laid a thicker folder on the table, about to open it,
and then stopped. He stared at me with his luminous dark eyes and under-eye
bags that hung with the shadows of stress.

“Before we get started, I want you
to know I’ve never done this before,” Sanchez said slowly, hanging on his
words. “It’s not standard protocol, especially for our department. I got the go
ahead to offer you a plea agreement, but I want you to know, I wanted you to
come back. I think you would be a valuable asset to the case, and I want to be
able to trust you.”

I nodded my head in understanding,
placing my handcuffed hands on the table with a clank. I made sure the chains
scraped against the surface, the sound echoing through the room. I stared down
at my hands before looking at him. He leaned in, unlocking the handcuffs and
pulling them toward him.

“Thanks,” I said as I rubbed my
wrists before setting them in my lap.

“So, what’s the deal?” James asked.
“My client won’t talk before we hear the deal.”

Sanchez opened the folder and
recited the charges. “You’ve been charged with a felony against the state for
identity theft and falsification, and for fleeing a crime scene and country
with a warrant out for your arrest. The state is not charging you in the deaths
of Lieutenant Schaefer, Janice
Hinske
and Holston
Parker. All determined to be self-defense according to witnesses. Ken
Hinske
was left unharmed in his bed at the time, which
helped your case as well.”

He paused, momentarily looking up
as if he had something else to say, but stopped. Either they never pieced
together the case with
Theron
and the barn, including
Holston’s other henchmen, or he wasn’t saying. I studied him, deducting that
Sanchez had a gut feeling but no evidence to go back on. The case was closed.

“The stolen identity will be
dropped to a misdemeanor, no jail time will be sentenced if you cooperate with
our investigation and you agree to parole for three years,” Sanchez finished,
looking up from his folder.

“
Evie
?”
James asked, turning toward me. “We can
discuss it further if you want. I can call a friend of mine who is a criminal
lawyer to help explain?
”

“No parole,” I said, my eyes
staring hard at Sanchez. I didn’t want to be committed to staying here; I
didn’t need anyone watching my every move.

“Two years,” Sanchez replied.

“No parole.”

“You realize that your felony
charges could land you up to fifteen years in a federal prison?
Hard time?
You’re a tough woman,
Evie
Parker. One of the strongest women I’ve ever met, but you’ve never been
federally imprisoned and you don’t want to be, not with your name,” Sanchez said,
shaking his head.

My name, what did he mean by my
name?

“He’s right,
Evie
,”
James said quietly, now tapping a pen on the table. God, his nervousness was
starting to really agitate me. “Let me call my-
”

I held my breath, not wanting to
hear the words that were about to come from my mouth, but Sanchez was right, I
didn’t belong in prison. The back of the police car was bad enough; the
confines too restricting for me. The bars of the prison would drive me insane.

“One year.”

“Deal.”

***

I knew Delaney was on the other
side of the glass wall, but the reflection I saw was my own. My hair barely
grazed my shoulders, the auburn hue shining in the fluorescent lighting of the
room. The black-rimmed glasses and brown contacts were a nice touch, but my
small features and angular face remained evident. Still, I wouldn’t pick me out
of a line-up as
Evie
Parker. I’m surprised Delaney
recognized me so quickly, but she’s changed, too.

The pull of
sisters.

Yet, I was furious at her for
letting them follow her so easily and for discovering the emails exchanged
between us. She should have been more careful in reaching out to me. And I
should have known better. I should have seen it coming. I wondered if I was
slipping, if the year away had disrupted my ability to see things clearly. I’d
always been able to see things like this coming. My mind had always played out
scenarios before they happen; the visions flash through my head in quick
succession. My senses had always been heightened and aware. But I didn’t see it
coming at the zoo. I didn’t see the officers following her. I was becoming
soft, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not now when Sister Josephine needed me.

The jet lag waned through my body
as I stared through the glass. I imagined Delaney was staring back at me,
studying the features she finds in her own face, comparing the two. I wondered
what our brothers would look like if they were alive. They would be in their
thirties now and probably married with bouncing children on their sides. That
was what people in the Midwest did; they married young and started a family
right away. How many nieces and nephews would there be?