"No, I'm sorry. She never mentioned anything about her family. We didn't even talk about my dad. It made her sad every time I asked questions. So, I stopped. She was an awesome mom who loved me very much. I thought I was alone in this world until I bought the house." My voice trembles, my emotions teetering on the edge. "The only thing she has ever said was not to investigate her past; she had no family, and my dad couldn't be with us."
"She's never told you about any of us?" he asks 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?" Uncle Donovan asks, leaning closer to me.
"Ok, how do I explain this? The minute I saw the picture, it felt like home. Like I belonged there." I watch him, trying to gauge whether he believes me. He just studies me, a look of confusion on his face.
"Ok, so what do you want from me? Is there something I can do to help you?" he asks, 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 asks, knowing this was the question I was most curious about.
Uncle 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," he pauses, swallowing hard. "I quickly ran to my younger siblings' rooms, got them out through the back door 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. I searched the tree line where everyone should have been waiting. No one was there. I started to panic because I wasn't sure whether they had gotten lost, were scared, or had been captured by the men. I did what Dad told me: to get everyone out and keep going, hoping to catch up." His voice cracks as he lowers his head into his hands, then sobs.
My heart aches for the teenage boy who had to grow up so fast. I stand up and walk over to him. I wrap my arms around him. He hesitates for a minute, then hugs me back tightly. When he releases me, he looks over to Andy, his eyes full of determination and sorrow. Andy looks at us with tears in his eyes. Our shared pain as a family draws us all together, forging a deeper emotional bond.
"I'm sorry you missed out on your daughter's life." Uncle Donovan says. "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. I smile back, glad I found him too.
"Uncle Donovan," I say cautiously, "Did you recognize any of the men's voices?" I wasn't sure if he would remember after so many years. My hope was he would at least know who one of them was. He shook his head yes.
"I did recognize the voice of one guy. He was our neighbor from across the street. His name is Ted. I will never forget his voice." Shock instantly hits me like ice water. My breath catches, and a shiver crawls up my spine. I've had so many weird encounters with him. It started with his hatred of us moving in, and suddenly his behavior makes sense.
"What's wrong?" Uncle Donovan demands.
"Ted still lives across the street," I say quietly. "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. He stands across the street watching our every move. I've called the sheriff's office both times, but good ol' Gramps dismisses it every time. He just sends his deputies to talk with him, but it never seems to deter him."
"Wait, what?" Andy asks, upset. "Why didn't you tell me he was looking through the windows?" I know he's upset I left this detail out of the conversations we've been having every day. It wasn't because I don't trust him; I just didn't want to cause him any unnecessary worry. We're still navigating our relationship.
"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to worry you," I say softly. "Zeke and I handled it." Andy's jaw tightens. He reminded me of Zeke because he would have reacted the same way. They were both protective, fierce, and ready to tear down anyone or anything that threatened me. The thought warms me, even in this tense moment.
"You're telling me that creep is still living in his parents' home?" Uncle Donovan growls.
"Has my father bugged you anymore?" Andy asks sharply at the same time.
"No, I haven't heard from him, which scares me a little, and yes, Ted still lives across the street; he's still creepy," I confess. The silence from my grandfather — the sheriff, who has become a looming presence in my life — is unsettling. It fuels my suspicion and fear, and makes me wonder what he might be planning.
Andy's expression tightens, and he says, "He's still searching for the paperwork. You should hide it or destroy it."
"Wait, what paperwork?" Uncle Donovan asks, his eyes narrowing. The mention of paperwork seems to add another layer of mystery to our already complicated situation.
"When we first moved into the house, we found various pieces of 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 open my bag, pulling out the files, and lay them on the table in front of my uncle and father. They take a moment to examine each folder and piece of paper, clearly stunned by what we have uncovered. Uncle Donovan reaches over and touches my hand to get my attention.
"Your dad's right, you need to get this paperwork out of that house." Uncle Donovan looks worried about the paperwork. I understand they are afraid and scared for me, but we need these files. They can help identify who hurt our family. I gather the paperwork into a pile.
"I can't do that right 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 paperwork can help us put the bad guys away," I explain, feeling the weight of the papers as a constant reminder of the secrets they contain. I quickly tuck them back into my bag. If I keep them with me, I know the paperwork is safe.
"I have a contact at the FBI who's been helping me recently with my parents, your grandparents' case. I'll talk to him and see if he can do anything to help us," Uncle Donovan offers.
I appreciate his help, but anxiety fills me at the thought of this agent touching the paperwork. I'm wary of trusting anyone, even Uncle Donovan. My distrust of him isn't fair because he hasn't given me a reason to distrust him. And I need his help.
"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. Not right now anyway. I need to find out who did this. Thank you for telling us about that night. I'm sure it wasn't easy. I would really like to stay in touch and get to know you better. Perhaps one day, once everything is over, you can visit the house again," I say, my tone hopeful yet determined.
"Maybe one day," he says, a hopeful smile forming. "I'm going to start searching for our younger siblings. Since Amber got out ok. It gives me hope they are still alive too."
Reaching back into my bag, my hand brushes Mom's journal. I pull it out and place it on the table. Uncle Donovan looks over at it and picks it up. He runs his hand over the worn cover, smiling at it.
"She used to write in this journal every night before bed," he says lovingly, then smiles at Andy. "If I remember right, a lot of the entries were about you." Both men chuckle.
"I doubt that," Andy replies thoughtfully.
We spend the rest of the visit with Andy and Uncle Donovan sharing stories about my mom and family. It's nice to learn more about what she was like growing up. I only wish she could have shared these stories herself instead of hearing them secondhand, but that chance was ripped away from me the night she had to flee for her life and mine.
As we leave the café, I hug my uncle once more and promise to meet again soon. Andy and Uncle Donovan do the guy thing and exchange a hand-clasped hug. It makes me giggle. We stay for a minute and watch him walk to his car, waving as he leaves. We head home not long after. It's been a long day, and I'm ready to sleep, cuddled up to Zeke.
"You ok, sweetheart?" Andy asked as we pull onto the main road.
"Yeah, it was just all a little overwhelming. Especially hearing what happened that night. I'm grateful I got to meet him," I say, truthfully.
"Get some rest. I'll wake you when we get home," he says gently.
I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. Exhaustion pulls me under quickly. Before I know it, Andy is gently shaking me awake because we are home. I felt a bit guilty for not staying awake to keep him company, but my system was overloaded.
"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have fallen asleep on you," I say, hoping he wasn't upset.
"You're fine, kid. You were tired," He says as we exit the car. We walk into the house and look for Zeke. He's sitting in the living room eating pizza. We both chuckle 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 really good," I say as I sit on the couch next to him. Andy sits down in the recliner and starts to tell Zeke about our visit with Donovan. We get interrupted by a loud knocking on the front door.
"I'll get it; you guys keep talking," I say, getting up.
I'm 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 I swing the door open, Sheriff Dawson is standing there, with eyes full of rage. The house seems to tense around me, as a cold draft sweeps past my legs, like it's bracing for impact.
"Well, Sheriff, this is beginning to become repetitive," I say, smirking.