13. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Allie
W alking along the gravel road with the two detectives while looking at houses feels pointless. Nothing looks familiar. And being out here, knowing I was likely in a basement somewhere nearby, has me feeling oddly exposed and raw.
"Was the house far from the woods, or were the woods practically in the backyard?" Detective Shields asks.
I shake my head as I look around. "It was in the middle. It wasn't far, but it wasn't right outside the back door, either. None of these houses are right."
"Are you sure?" Detective Parsons asks. "You only saw the back of the house."
"Yeah, I'm sure. There were no houses near it. I looked around and saw nothing, so I don't think this is the right area."
"This is the only area accessible, Allie. Are you certain it wasn't just dark?" Shields asks.
Her dark hair pulled back into a bun makes her features sharper than normal, and for a moment, I wish I looked like her. Or maybe it's just the confidence she exudes. She also doesn't need nearly as much makeup as I feel I do, which adds a whole other layer of intimidation.
"I'm not certain of anything, but nothing here looks familiar," I say. "I am positive that there weren't houses this close to the one I ran from. If there was a house nearby, I would've run there for help. And with how quiet it gets at night, they would have heard me screaming when I was first down there. There was nothing. Just woods."
"When you were running through the trees, did you weave a lot? Did you run into any animals? Any idea how long you ran for?" Parsons asks.
I look into his green eyes, and I see nothing but mistrust in them. He doesn't believe anything I'm saying, and it makes me dislike him even more.
"My adrenaline was rushing, so I don't remember a lot. I remember coming out and seeing the police station, but then I saw the road. It felt familiar, so I followed it. That's how I found the house I remembered. Not that you believe that."
"This is the only area where you'd have been able to make it out of the woods in as short of a timeframe as you seem to think. Any other area likely would have had you lost or in there for hours. It's also strange to me that you'd bypass the police station and go to the only place you remember, even though you don't ever remember being there."
Glaring at him, I cross my arms over my chest. "I get it, okay? You don't agree with the decisions I made. And you don't trust that I'm telling the truth, do you?"
"I don't believe you don't remember anything, Allie."
"You really think I'd pretend I don't know the man who looks at me with such pain when I can't remember the memories he talks about? Or my parents? How about my best friend? You think this is all an act? Why?"
Shields holds a hand up. "That's not—"
"Yeah, that's what I think. I think you're playing all of us," he says.
"Why? What could I possibly have to gain?"
He shrugs. "Attention. Maybe money when you give your exclusive interview to someone. Some big network talk show host who wants to know what you went through."
"You think I hid away for seven years, biding my time, just for attention? That's a lot of commitment for attention. Yes, I also really enjoyed starving myself to the point I look like I have an eating disorder, and I just really love the feel of metal shackles on my feet while I piss in a five-gallon pail. I suppose you think I hit myself on the head, too? No, actually, you think Jax did that, don’t you? That we planned this whole elaborate scheme together."
"I've seen stranger things."
"Then I guess you suck as a detective, don't you? If two people who only want attention can make a ruse last seven years, what does that say about you?”
“I’m not saying—"
“No, let’s follow this through. How’d we keep the location I stayed at from you? Or how about all those secret meetings we obviously had to have? Considering you watched Jax at every turn, we were pretty damn crafty. And forget about the communication you never found. We probably had burner phones. No, not phones. Carrier pigeons. That’s how we communicated and got everything past you. Either we’re really smart, or you’re really dumb.”
His eyebrows lift as he studies me. "Allie— "
"Why the hell did you even bring me out here, then? What are we doing? Are you trying to find a way to trip me up? You think I'll slip up and let you in on my big, elaborate scheme. How about this? How about you take me home, and you can call all the cops off? I don't need to be watched if I did this to myself. I have no interest in participating in any more of your tests, and I'm done with you."
"We can't take the police protection away, Allie. We need to make sure you're not in danger," Shields says.
I shake my head and turn my back to them. "No one's attempted to come after me, so I doubt I'm in danger. But, then again, since I did this to myself, no one will show up, right? Jax and I just sit in the house and laugh at how we got one over on the big, bald detective.”
"Allie," Shields sighs, "we're not trying to test you or trip you up."
"No, I don't think you are," I say and turn to her. "I think you're actually trying to help. Parsons? Not so much. He just wants to close this case and put a big fat LIAR stamp on my forehead. You guys don't think I've been wondering every night for over seven years why whoever took me didn't just kill me? Why they chose to shackle me up in the cellar of an abandoned house? I couldn't figure out what they got out of it, and I still can't. I mean, why even bother feeding me? Or treating my head wound? What was the point?"
I wipe away my tears and turn away from them again. It's hard enough dealing with Jax and Sage wishing I'd just remember them, but feeling like I'm a criminal and a liar is too much right now. Too much for how overwhelming everything is.
"We're trying to figure that out, too," Shields says, her voice soft. "For what it's worth, I believe you."
"No, I don't think you do," I say and turn to look at them both. "You know that if I don't trust you, you can't get close enough to find the truth. You still think I'm holding things back, and I wish I was. I'd tell you if I was, just to be done with you, but I'm not. It seems nothing I do is enough. Everyone looks at me like I’m someone I'm not, and they want me to know things I wish I knew. It's never enough. I don't know enough for you. I don't remember enough for Jax. And my mother... well, at least I have a feeling that her disappointment isn't anything new."
Sighing, Shields looks at the ground. "We need to explore all possibilities. And you having a part in all of this is a possibility. Not a very likely one, sure. Regardless, we do want to help. I want to know who did this, and I want to lock them away."
"Do you have any idea how it feels to be a constant disappointment to everyone around you? To not be the person everyone expects and wants? I can't be the woman Jax is in love with. The memories with my best friend aren't there. My mother scares the hell out of me, but that's instinct more than memory. And then you two. I feel like I should've just stayed in that place. It’s obvious my reappearance is ruining everyone's lives and making everything more difficult. I want to remember, but I can't!" I shout.
The tears flow freely now, and I crouch down to the ground and hug my knees. This was just a waste of time like everything else.
"Cellar?" Parsons asks.
"That's what you took from this?" Shields asks, and I look to see her glaring at her partner.
"You said cellar, not basement, Allie," he says, ignoring the intense look of almost hatred from Shields.
Sniffling, I wipe my eyes. "Uh, yeah. I mean, it was downstairs, but it wasn't finished. There were dirt floors, so they put down rugs from the cot to the shower to stop my feet from getting muddy. And there were no windows."
"I'm sorry, Allie," he says. "I had my doubts, but I think I was wrong."
"Really? You mean I passed whatever test you put me through? The test I wasn't given any study materials for but expected to ace?"
He smirks. "Yes, you did. This isn't the right area. None of these houses have cellars. Not like how you described."
"What do you mean?" I ask and stand. "How do you know?"
"This development was built about ten years ago, and all of them either have finished basements or were roughed in. Cement floors and windows. If you had no windows, and it was dirt floors, we're looking for an older house. Which also means it's likely secluded and not in a neighborhood. Our search just got a lot harder because the woods span thirty miles."
"But I didn't walk that far," I say.
He shakes his head. "You were weaving, so we're going to have to look at the point where you stepped out from and determine what routes you may have taken. We're probably looking at quite a few because we don't know how long you were walking or how fast. That will leave a lot of ground to cover."
"For the record, only a crazy person would lock themselves away for seven years and barely feed themselves for attention. And I don't think I'm crazy. I'm just really trying to figure out who I am."
"I really am sorry, Allie. I'm used to being lied to by everyone, and I tend to assume the worst. It's a fault of mine."
"It really is," Shields agrees. "And I do believe you. The fact you skipped the police station makes you a little crazy, but not to that extent. "
Parsons lets out a sigh. "If you'd like, I can ask for someone else to be assigned to your case. I want you to feel comfortable."
The idea is appealing, but I know I'll have to relive all of this over and over. More than I already have to. "I don't want to do this again and again. I've answered the same questions enough times, and I know Jax has, too. He's too tall to be the person who did this, and based on how he reacted to seeing me, he would never have helped anyone do this. Besides, he has nothing to gain from it. From what I'm told, we were really happy."
"The person who did this... they took care of you when you were injured," he says. "Did they say anything to you during that time?"
I shake my head as I think back. "No, but they came multiple times a day to clean and rebandage the wound. And give me pain relievers. Once I didn't need the ointment they used any longer, we moved to only once a day visits to drop off food, water, and empty my bathroom pail."
"But they seemed to know what they were doing? When they took care of the wound?"
"Um, they weren't a doctor, but it wasn't just someone who was winging it. They always came with a caddy of supplies. Gauze pads, antiseptic, ointment, and tape. Some other things, too, but I never really paid that much attention."
The detectives look at each other. "This person has some type of medical training. At least basics," Shields says.
"And you're sure they never said a word to you?" Parsons asks.
"Never. I tried talking to them when they came to take care of me, but they never said a word. I tried asking what happened. You know, what'd I hit my head on, but they never spoke. Didn't even nod unless it was a generic question about things like whether I was allowed to read the books on the shelf. Nothing about me or what happened."
"You said the only part of them that was exposed was their eyes. Do you remember what color they were?"
I look at him and try to remember, but I shake my head. "The only time there was light, it was on me, not them. It was too dark."
"Thank you for coming with us. I know it wasn't the most pleasant experience, but I do feel like we've made some progress, though."
I just nod to him. "I feel like I'm not really helpful."
Story of my life.
"You were. You really were," Shields assures me, but I don't believe her.