Page 101 of Reclaiming Adelaide

“Hey, we’re back.”

“Any trouble?”

“Nothing that I couldn’t handle,” I said. “Did you go to her parent’s home?”

“Yes, it’s been settled.”

“Dead?”

A major part of me prayed to God it was a bluff, but then I remembered who we were dealing with, and it shot the thought down faster than I could conjure happy thoughts.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Shot to the head.”

“Fuck.”

I sat on my steps and braced my elbow on my knee as I drove my hand through my hair. I clenched my jaw as emotions and memories I’d worked to suppress for fourteen years tickled my spine.

“The coroner picked them up. What do you need now?”

“If you could do the funeral arrangements, that’d be helpful.”

“I’ll get together with the funeral home and set things up. Does she want to pick things out?”

I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “I think that would be too much for her. Just make it good for her.”

“All right. Anything else?”

What would I have wanted my parents to have? I exhaled and rubbed the nape of my neck. “I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.”

I hung up and dropped my head into my hands, running them down my face and scratching at the itchy beard that grew out all week. I didn’t even recognize myself when I’d looked in the mirror.

Hoisting my exhausted body up from the steps, I walked back inside and found Adelaide sitting on the couch with a cheese stick in one hand and the bowl of applesauce she’d dipped her cheese in.

“That’s… an interesting combination.”

A small smile crossed her lips. “It’s really good. I used to eat it all the time when I was a kid.”

“Come on. I want to show you something.” I held my hand out for her—something I’d noticed I’d been doing a lot lately. She shoved the rest of the cheese in her mouth with an extra dip of applesauce and stood.

“Where are we going?” She covered her mouth as she spoke around her food and took my hand with her other, following me down into the basement.

“You’ll see.”

This room was my sanctuary, one I’d not shared with anyone, including Becca.

“What’s in there?”

“You’ll see.”

Slipping my hand from my pocket, I typed in my eight-digit code, ready to share this for the first time.

The door swung open on its well-oiled hinges, and I walked her inside the darkened room before flipping the switch on.

Green neon lights glowed from beneath the long three-man desk where two separate computer systems ran their searches, hunting for a man who was the key to all of this.

Two black chairs sat side by side, one for the more intense days of cat and mouse and the other for more relaxing days of strategic planning.