The children enter the room, putting a halt to our conversation. We eat dinner and the girls can’t stop talking about Arthur, since that’s what they’ve named the ferret. Althea is beside herself that she didn’t notice, but neither did I, so it ends there. The girls manage to convince Sebastian to purchase a cage, a bed, a blanket, and other things Arthur will need.
I force smiles and laughs with the children all the while I can’t stop wondering what they’ll find in that cottage. And with one look at Rowan, I know he’s thinking the exact same thing.
8
SEBASTIAN
The sun casts its warm rays through the dense foliage as we approach the abandoned cottage deep in the woods. Rowan and I exchange glances, feeling the eerie stillness that hangs heavy like a weight upon our shoulders. The overgrown vegetation swallows what was once likely a picturesque home but is now a forgotten relic of time.
“How on earth did teenagers even find this place?”
I shake my head. “No clue. But I’m grateful they did.”
We step out of the car, looking around. Javier moves protectively by my side, his hand on his gun in its holster though we’re the only ones here. The police as well as our national crime agency set up a perimeter and haven’t removed anything else from the cottage other than the blanket, the blood-soaked onesie, and the diamond. They fingerprinted but with the number of kids who have been in and out of this place for who knows how long, I doubt that will lead to anything.
“Jesus, this place is creepy as hell,” Rowan mutters, scanning our surroundings with caution.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice barely audible as I continue to stareat the cracked and broken front of the cottage. “I feel it. It’s like something out of a horror film.”
With careful steps, we examine the exterior of the cottage, looking for who knows what. We have no idea how long whoever took Desta used this place. It could have been just that night. It could have been months. Hell, it could have been years, though that doesn’t seem as likely to me.
“Ready to go in?” I ask.
“Honestly, not so much.”
I snicker. “I’m going to need a big fat drink after this.” And Bellamy. I hate being away from her and the children. Depending on how this goes, we’re going to try to get back tonight, but the drive down here was nearly four hours since it’s practically on the opposite side of the country. Flying would have been too conspicuous, and though the police are involved, and the blanket made the news, so far, they’ve managed to keep the rest quiet.
There’s been nothing in the papers about anything else that was found, and I’d like to keep it that way. My press secretary made a blanket statement about how we’re always hopeful Desta will come home to us and that the person who took her will be found and prosecuted. We also said that we’re looking into the blanket and hoping it leads to more and left it at that. A place I’d like it to stay, especially until we know the extent of my mother’s role in things.
The door to the cottage is closed but unlocked, and the moment we step over the threshold, the three of us freeze. The musty scent of decay fills my nostrils as we scan the open room, taking in the utter chaos and disarray. Sunlight trickles through a broken window, casting a golden glow on the dust motes floating in the air.
“How on earth did they even find what they found?”
I shake my head, at a loss, same as Rowan.
“Watch where you step,” Javier warns. “I don’t have thehighest faith in the stability of this structure and who knows what’s hidden beneath all this…mess.”
“Christ. What a fucking disaster.” I shake my head. “Let’s begin our search, because the sooner we do, the sooner we can go.” We split up to cover more ground. The cottage is small with a completely open floor plan. It consists of a kitchen, a small dining area, and a living room. That’s pretty much it. My heart races as I methodically inspect every corner, each creaky step, and cobweb-laden space. There are carryout containers, rotting food, alcohol bottles, pizza boxes, and toppled-over furniture. It’s a minefield of clutter and trash.
“Sebastian, look at this!” Rowan calls from the other side of the room, his voice tinged with excitement.
Javier and I rush toward him where he’s standing in front of a dusty bookshelf. He’s uncovered a compartment at the base of the bookshelf and inside are newspaper clippings, all about Desta’s kidnapping. My breath catches in my throat.
“Whoever they were, they were clearly keeping up on what the news had to say about it,” I declare bitterly. “Put them in one of the bags we brought, but we need to keep searching.”
Javier has gloves on and takes the newspapers from Rowan, placing them all in a large sealable plastic bag. “Fingerprints,” he explains, and I mentally want to smack my forehead. How did I not think of that?
“Right, let’s continue,” Rowan agrees, our determination renewed. If those have been hidden all this time, there is a chance they do have fingerprints on them.
There’s nothing else on the ground floor. At least nothing else we can find, and we’re about as thorough as we can be given the state of the place. With what feels like lead in our feet, we climb the old stairs that curve around to reach the second floor. It’s small up here, with only two tiny bedrooms, one with the crib occupying the majority of the back bedroom.
Our breaths collectively catch, and for a moment, all Rowanand I can do is stare at it. Brea was whisked away when she was a newborn, locked in hospitals on and off—or so we were told—and afterward kept far away from us. She’s still somewhere down south, keeping her distance as our mother was never willing to risk her health by having her near others.
Desta’s situation was entirely different.
I remember when she was brought home from the hospital. I remember playing with her and teaching her to walk. She was not even two when she was taken, but my memory of her is as clear as if she were here yesterday.
The room has been mostly cleared out, the police and crime units doing their jobs well up here. Javier sets straight to work, removing the mattress of the crib and searching the wood slats since this is where the blanket and bloody onesie were discovered.
