What Lies Beneath

Chapter 14

He runs after me, his eyes gleaming with evil.

He knows I fear him and he enjoys it–feeds on it.

Blood, everywhere!

No matter how far, no matter how fast I run, he always caught up to me.

Sinking his knife into my calf, I fell to the ground, screaming in pain.

He laughs at my terror, at my tears.

Still, I know I have to get away.

I have to get away because the worst was yet to come.

I saw the tree first, and I quivered in fear.

The rope. f**k, the rope was covered in blood.

Run! I command my body.

Run! I weep.

But it’s no use–he has me now.

He’d tied my hands and feet and hung me upside down from the tree.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” I cried. Why didn’t I run faster?

Plunging his knife into my stomach, I screeched in agony as he slit me open from belly to chest. My essence spilled onto the ground as the life drained from my eyes.

Her body felt like a rock as Olivia laid on her side, shuddering. She wanted to pull the covers over her, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. The trembling was not from cold–she wasn’t cold. Her eyes were shifting back and forth from the puddle on the floor to her Glock on the bedside table. Numbly, she wondered who had undressed her and put her to bed. He draped her jeans over the footboard of the bed along with her leather jacket.

It was dark outside when she finally forced herself to stand. Olivia had no choice - her eyelids were growing heavy, and she was sober. Walking into the kitchen, she headed for the cupboard above the empty fridge and pulled a sealed bottle from her supply.

Not bothering with a glass, she sat down on the one-seater and drank. When the reassuring effects of the warm liquid finally loosened her stiff body, she stumbled to the bed and continued her therapy until she couldn’t hold her head up any longer.

She repeated the process until she woke on Monday morning, feeling like she was about to die. Olivia was very familiar with this feeling–she needed to get food in her stomach. But she knew from experience that scarfing down whatever she got her hands on was going to end badly.

It was completely dark around her. She switched on the lamp and got up slowly. Avoiding the dried vomit on the floor, she dragged herself into the kitchen to make some weak black tea. When her stomach rolled at the first sip, she knew this was going to be dire morning. Running for the bathroom, her body expelled the tiny sip of tea. She just kept sipping her tea and dry heaving until her stomach eventually settled.

She made another cup, but stronger this time and loaded with sugar. By three am she kept the tea down, so she headed for the freezer and pulled out a ready-made Mac ‘n Cheese. Olivia snorted at the embellished picture of the noodles and gooey cheese on the box. She threw the box and plastic sleeve in the garbage bin to keep the two empty bottles company. Popping it into the oven, she got a pot of strong coffee going. She headed for the shower as she waited for breakfast and coffee to be ready. Olivia spotted the dried puddle on the floor and made quick work of cleaning it up before she scrubbed the alcohol from her skin and hair under the scorching water. The smell of thawed death was a b***h to get rid of. While she was on the second round of brushing her teeth, the delicious aroma of melted cheese crept into the bathroom and she decided this will do, for now. After toweling off and getting dressed in some underwear and a tank top, she dumped her clothes from last week into the washer - including the ones she’d been wearing for the past three days, the unopened pack of smokes and her office key fell to the floor, reminding her of the lighter, she dug around and for it. Turning the items over in her hands a couple of times, deciding if she should just throw them out, she allowed her nose to lead her to the kitchen.

Dawn surrounded Olivia like a warm blanket, she was standing outside, on her rarely used balcony as she sipped the steaming cup of coffee, her belly was full and silent for the moment. Blowing out puffs of smoke, she watched as the grey skies turned into a wash of color with the rising sun. The washer was playing a cheerful little tune, alerting her it was time for the dryer.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kat demanded as she caught up with Olivia on the steps of the station. Olivia frowned at her nervous inquiry. “I’ve been calling you all of Saturday afternoon, but you never picked up.” That’s because Olivia didn’t hear the phone ring - she did not know where the damn thing was–she hasn’t seen it since Friday.

“I was at home. I was feeling a bit unwell.” It wasn’t lying exactly.

“Mason and I went by your place on Sunday afternoon, knocked and everything.”

“Guess I was out.” Or passed out cold. Kat was looking closely at her face, Olivia wasn’t sure if she was trying to catch her in a lie or to make sure she was feeling well again.

“Detective Pearson.” Gill waved Olivia over as she and Kat entered the building.

“Morning Gill.” Olivia veered towards the reception.

“Amanda Brooks is waiting in in room two.”

Relieved, she wasn’t in the mood for Kat’s probing questions; it was the last thing she needed this morning. She headed for her office, unlocked it, and retrieved the file for Finley Scott before she paid a visit to the interview rooms. She took a deep breath, then knocked on the door before she went inside. “Good morning, Ms. Brooks. I am Detective Olivia Pearson. Thank you for coming in to see me.”

She nodded at Olivia’s greeting. The only resemblance between the two sisters is their lovely whiskey-colored eyes. Where Suzie had dark blonde hair, and a stout figure, Amanda had dark brown hair with a fragile bone structure. “Would you like some coffee or tea, perhaps?”

“No, thank you. This will not take very long,” she advised Olivia, which made her eyebrows draw up, saying nothing she pressed record and started her questioning.

“Ms. Brooks, do you know why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Are you also aware of the fact that your sister is currently under house arrest waiting on a court date?”

“Yes.” She almost glared.

“Very well, do you understand the term obstruction of justice?”

Sighing another “Yes.”

“Were you aware of the fact that Suzie had purposefully buried evidence?”

“Only realized all of this when your chief called me up.”

Nodding, Olivia headed to the refreshment table to fix herself a cup of coffee. “Now Amanda, tell me, where you were the night of Dona Holden’s murder.” Olivia sat down at the desk and waited for her answer.

“I was expecting, and I had dreadful morning sickness. Only, I had them at night instead of in the mornings. Finley was with me the entire night, comforting me while I puked my guts out. We went to bed early that morning, the cops woke us up in the afternoon looking to question Finley about the murder.”

Pulling the photo from the file, Olivia placed it in front of her and pointed at the corner. “Do you perhaps have the day mistaken? Because that looks an awful lot like Finley Scott chatting with Dona Brooks at a party.”

Pushing the photo back. “I am not mistaken of the night. I have seen the photo before.”

“So you expect me to take your word for it while I have the evidence in my hands to contradict your statement?”

“I don’t care if you take my word for it or not, Detective. I am not lying now and I wasn’t lying then.”

Pushing the photo back. “Amanda, I cannot think you would be so naïve. Look,” she said while tapping on his face. “That is Finley Scott.”

“And I am telling you that whoever that is, it’s not Finley Scott!” A rapped knock sounded before the door swung wide and Mr. Edwards barged in–uninvited, again. “Detective Pearson, you are not to question my clients without me being present. You know this!”

“Mr. Edwards, I suggest you remove yourself from my interview room before I have you thrown into the same cell as Finley Scott, who, you can clearly see, is not in this room right now.”

“My client.” He motioned to Amanda “will not be answering any further questions at this point. I expect a copy of that recording,” he pointed to the device in case Olivia was daft enough to presume he had meant another. “in my hands before I leave this station.”

“Your client had not expressed the need for a lawyer. She also did not inform me she had a lawyer. In fact, I am pretty sure she wasn’t even aware that she had a lawyer up until you barged in, declaring to be.”

“Consider yourself informed, Detective Pearson. Mrs. Thorn and Ms. Brooks are on the list with Mr. Scott. You schedule each interview with me after those DNA results are in.” He glared at her and she suppressed the urge to flip him off. “Ms. Brooks?” He held the door open for her, his eyes trained on Olivia. “I will wait to hear from you with this recording and those results.”

Back in her office, Olivia bristled as she waited for the lab to transfer her.

“Hello, Detective Pearson?”

“Do you have the results for Finley Scott?”

“Not yet, the Kit didn’t have all the components. There was no semen specimen, but there is a minimal amount of blood that does not belong to Holden.”

“I know I have stated this before, but this is urgent.”

“Fast does not mean diligent, Detective. Just a couple more days.”

Olivia tried to rub the tension from her forehead and failed. It will not help if she loses her s**t with the lab technicians. “Alright,” she sighed. “Thanks.”

With nothing else to do, she headed outside for a smoke. She needed to clear her head and push all these emotions aside. She could focus on work without a problem, it was when she found herself with nothing to do when the nightmares would haunt her with open eyes.

She would think back. Back to a time when she was young and happy and loved as a daughter, a granddaughter, a friend. She would remember the dreams she once had, the excitement to head to university with her friend Tina Simmons. A couple of years ago Olivia had looked her up, Tina, and found she had moved to California with her husband and two kids. In the pictures she was happy, smiling. Is that what life would have looked like for Olivia if things were different for her?

Stomping on the bud, she headed back inside, on a mission to find anything that would corroborate with the evidence she had on Finley Scott. She had to keep busy or she would drown in the darkness.

Later, when the sun had gone down, and the city was yawning as the day ended, Olivia stumbled her way to her bed and crawled into the covers while crying for her mother.

 ***

“I understand that alcohol is an uncomfortable topic for you, but I feel we need to discuss it, regardless.”

Closing her eyes, Oliva cursed under her breath.

“Do you have the nightmares each night?”

Not seeing the point in denying something they both know to be true, she answered. “Only when I don’t drink enough to pass out.”

“Have you had any success with other methods?”

She snorted. “The first prescription of pills helped for about a month, the double dose for even less. I could go on, but I think you get the picture.”

“I wasn’t exactly referring to medications. Have you noticed any activities during the day that had helped deplete your energy enough to fall into a dreamless sleep? Or perhaps something or someone that offered a sense of protection or peace?”

“No” She lied, and they both knew it.

“We’ll circle back,” she promised. “The nightmares, same one each time?”

“Mostly.”

“And what is it about?”

“My mother’s skull breaking through a windshield while I drown helplessly.”

“Do you wake from them?”

“Eventually.”

“Please explain.”

“The dream plays in a loop over and over until I wake up because I cannot breathe. I get panic attacks when I cannot control a situation.”

“And the other dreams?” Olivia wasn’t sure that she was ready to talk about that. “What are they about?”

With no response from Olivia, she continued. “Ok then, tell me how you wake up from them.”

“Violently. I scream and thrash, I sweat and cry. I throw up”

“Had your dreams changed since the k********g?”

“No”

“No dreams about that then?”

“No.”

“Why do you think?”

“What?”

“The uncommon reaction towards the dreams and then no dreams about a very recent traumatic experience?”

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“I can give you my theory. Which might or might not be correct. I think what happened to your mother had a substantial influence on your emotional state. It had done enough damage to your mind that you have trouble to express emotions. But, I know the horror reaction is from the dreams of your father.”

She allowed Olivia to process that for a moment. “As for the k********g, I think your mind is having a delayed shock response, we’ll monitor the situation.”

Olivia hoped that wasn’t the case. She had enough to deal with as it is.

“I want you to think about why you lied to me earlier. What was the reason behind the lie? Also, I want you to write down the dreams you have about your dad and what happened to him. Getting it out in a simple way, such as writing it down, may help you open up about it.”

Even as her head nodded, Olivia knew that would not happen. Well, not soon anyway.