One Month Later Woman’s Case Baffles Police
Then she played a video of TV news reports showing Jennifer Griffin, the mom missing from Trailside. There were more files of news reports, photos, videos, showing her car in the woods, the search, and her anguished family...
What is this?
Lorena’s fingers shook as she went to more videos and played them.
Her hand flew to her mouth at what she saw.
Seventy-Four
Location Unknown
Jennifer knew there was little hope of escaping.
But a grain of hope was all she had, so she kept digging at the door’s hinges while her tattered mind went back to the chime.
Who gave it to me and why?
The angel chime had signified her happiness and her horror.
Its arrival was an omen, a triggering incident, just as Dr. Maynart had said. But he didn’t know the whole truth. No one did. It was a secret Jennifer had carried ever since the night of the fire...
How I loved the chime Mom gave me, loved its soothing, soft ringing... I was enraptured by the flash and glaze of the golden angels, their carousel of shadows, mesmerizing, as if casting a magical spell. I could watch them for hours, forever...
...and that night, that night I couldn’t sleep. All I could think of was my chime. I yearned to watch it. From the muffled snoring in Mom and Dad’s room, I knew they were asleep... I tiptoed down the stairs to the chime in the living room, set it on the coffee table, got the candles and matches from the kitchen. I’d seen Mom light the candles so many times...
I put the candles in their holders and took the matchbox with a voice in my head, a warning... I was breaking the rules. I was never to play with the chime alone. It was wrong but I couldn’t stop. I felt a rush of rebellious adrenaline as I struck the match. Its flame flared with a hiss. Feeling its heat, I lit the candle wicks just like Mom, fanning out the match and blowing on it, putting it on the metal base... I was thrilled I did it all by myself... Soon, the carousel began turning, creating the glorious chiming with shadows dancing around the room, and on our Christmas tree, a real one, in the corner. I watched with delight, until I fell asleep on the sofa, waking to find the candles nearly burned down...
I blew them out, put the chime away, placed the cold, burnt matchstick and burned-down candles in the trash, hiding them under potato peelings, tiptoeing back to bed, falling asleep...
The screams woke me. The loud cracking and snapping of wood, of walls collapsing, the smoke, the stinking, thick choking smoke, the flames and searing heat, my home on fire... I’m going to die. Then, a face at the window, a firefighter, saving me. Only me. Not my mom, not my dad... My world, my life, burned to the ground, destroyed... Shock. Horror. Waking in a hospital bed, feeling Grandma’s arms... “You’ll live with me now...” A lit cigarette left burning between the sofa cushions in the living room caused the fire. That’s what they told Grandma, that’s what she told me. No. No, that’s wrong. Not true. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t tell them the truth. I kept it to myself because I broke the rule...it was the chime. I started the fire...
I killed my mom and dad...
And then the chime shows up mysteriously at my door.
Who put it there?
Why?
It comes like payback, like a toll to be exacted for what she did, ripping open her wounds, triggering her overwhelming guilt.
I was only eight. It was an accident. I’m so sorry.
Jennifer froze, hearing a faint, distant sound on the other side.
Scattering the shavings on the floor, she sat on her mattress. She tucked her tool under it, keeping it within reach, bracing herself.
If the door opened, she would use it to stab her captor.
The door of the viewing port slid open.
Jennifer stared at the eyes watching her.
Then there was movement at the small doors, buckets were transferred, food was left—and a folded page.
She set the food beside her mattress, opened the page to find a new note:
ONE MORE PIECE TO PUT IN PLACE BEFORE I SHOW YOU EVERYTHING.
Jennifer’s stomach lurched.
What more could be coming? Oh God. I’m going to be killed!
She took up her tool.
Sobbing, she returned to the hinges and clawed for her life.
Seventy-Five
Buffalo, New York
Greg and Kat returned to the young man’s front door.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You came at a busy time. I was waiting for word on a job I’m up for.”
“That’s okay,” Kat said. “Hope you get it.”
“I did.” His face was warmer. They could hear the dog start up again. “I’d invite you in but my dog’s sick. Wait, I’ll put him in another room.”
They could hear yelping and his one-way conversation with his dog. “Did you take a nap, Barney? You need to take a nap, buddy.” A moment later, he returned.
“The fire you’re talking about happened before I was born,” he said. “But my older sister lived here then.”
“So she would know about it,” Greg said.
“She and my mom knew the family. They’d talk about it sometimes around Christmas.”
“Can we talk to your sister?” Kat said.
“She lives in Toronto.”
“How can we reach her?”
“Give me your information and I’ll pass it to her.”
Seeing that the man was still gripping his phone, Kat said: “Be easier if you give me your phone. I’ll put it in for you.”
The man hesitated. “Wait. Are you cops?”
“No,” Greg said.
“Who are you? And why’re you asking about an old fire in this neighborhood and stuff?”
“I’m Greg Griffin. This is my sister, Kat. My wife, Jennifer, is missing. She grew up in this neighborhood and we’re trying to learn more about her family, like, if she had any sisters or brothers.”
“Your wife’s missing?” The man looked at Greg until recognition dawned. “Wait. Is your wife the woman from Trailside? The one in the news?”
“Yes,” Greg said.
Realizing the significance, the man blinked, thinking. Kat waited a moment then indicated the man’s phone.
“So you’re going to help us get in touch with your sister?” she said.
“Sure, sure.”