Chapter 28 Gwen
GWEN
Ididn’t understand why that was relevant.
Rhiannon and Simone were the only people here who knew my old name.
Coming to the ranch meant leaving your old life behind, starting fresh, a blank slate.
To me, Alison Kennedy was Delilah and would remain Delilah.
It almost felt a bit disrespectful, like a betrayal of Delilah’s trust, for Rhiannon to share her old name.
What kind of trouble could Delilah have been in anyway? Her picture was beside innocent and na?ve in the dictionary.
“How you doing, Gwen?” Edwards asked.
I had seen him blunt, I’d seen him casual, but there was something different in his eyes this time. A softness, a kindness.
The same applied for the man who stood beside him in a suit. White, middle-aged, with a full head of graying brown hair. He stood right around six feet tall with a frame just as wide as Edwards’, but on the slender side of bulky.
“You two know each other?” the other man asked.
“She’s Sebastian’s girlfriend,” Edwards said.
This was news to me. Sebastian and I hadn’t had that conversation yet.
“Wow, I didn’t know he was seeing anyone.” Outstretching a hand, the man smiled, a certain sadness still in his eyes. “Detective Robert Mitchell. Most folks call me Mitchell though.”
“Nice to meet you, Mitchell,” I said, accepting the shake. “And I was doing alright before this.” I looked between them. “Can I ask what this is about?”
Edwards and Mitchell both glanced at Rhiannon. She stood on my right, chewing her nails. Nothing spilled over, but her dark eyes were glassy already.
When she said nothing, Edwards said, “Maybe you should have a seat.”
“I’m alright,” I said. “I do need to get back to my cabin and let my dog out though, so—”
“They’re right.” Voice hardly above a whisper, Rhiannon only glanced at me. “You should have a seat, Gwen.”
Ice spread through my chest. The cops telling me to sit down awoke a rebellious teenager in me. But Rhiannon? Rhiannon, I trusted.
Edwards grabbed a couple chairs from up against the wall. He sat in one and offered the other to me.
Hesitant, I may have been, but I took the seat. “Rhiannon mentioned that this was about D—Alison. She’s not in any trouble, is she? Because I just can’t see that. She’s the biggest sweetheart with the kindest soul, and whatever you think she did—”
“She’s not in any trouble.” A hard swallow bobbed Edwards’ throat. “You guys were close though, right? I saw you together at Light Up Night, and Rhiannon mentioned you kind of took her under your wing here.”
“Yeah, we’re friends. Really good friends.” Shaking my head, I squinted at him, and then at Mitchell who stood behind him. The way I’d grown up, I’d had more interactions with cops than I could count. Never had I seen any who looked so… sad.
“If she’s not in trouble,” I said, “then what’s this about?”
Edwards’ eyes stayed on mine, expression still gentle, but I could see the hesitancy in the way he opened and shut his mouth. It took a clear of his throat before he said, “She passed away this morning.”
I laughed. Obviously, that was a joke. She was eighteen. Healthy. Able-bodied. Completely normal, aside from her circumstances before staying here.
No one else laughed.
When I glanced at Rhiannon, she wiped a tear away.
“Wait, what?” Still certain they were confused, or joking, or lying, I shook my head. “No. No, she didn’t. We just had dinner together last night. She was fine. She was completely fine.”
“I’m really sorry for your loss.” Edwards frowned. “Nobody ever expects something like this.”
“No, because you’re wrong.” I shook my head so hard, I was surprised it didn’t fall off. “No, she’s at the daycare down the street. That’s where she’s working now. I’m sure we can walk there and you can see her, and you’ll know—”
“She didn’t show this morning.” Rhiannon’s voice came out soft, quiet.
“I did a welfare check too, and she wasn’t in her apartment.
Then I checked the logs, and her key card was used to exit last night.
I texted, and I called, but I haven’t heard anything.
One of the girls at the daycare said she borrowed her car last night. ”
“We found the car at the scene. I recognized the body,” Edwards said, voice soft. “It’s her, Gwen. She’s gone.”
But Rhiannon hadn’t seen the body. Edwards only met her once. It wasn’t Delilah. It couldn’t be.
“Was it a car accident or something?” I asked. “Because there are lots of pretty, young blonde girls. Maybe this girl just looks a lot like D—Alison. It’s not—it can’t be her.”
“At this time, we’re suspecting suicide,” Mitchell said. “That’s why we figured we’d—”
“What? No. No, if it was suicide, it definitely wasn’t her. Something’s mixed up here. You don’t have the right girl. That’s not her.”
“I’m really sorry, Gwen.” Edwards shook his head. “It’s her. She had the key card to the ranch in her pocket. I’m sure when Rhiannon scans it, her name is going to pop up.”
I stared at him in disbelief for a few heartbeats, but I said nothing.
He did know what Delilah looked like. They had met. They’d spoken, and interacted, and—
“When we spoke with her father,” Mitchell began, “he informed us of her mental health issues. Considering her history of depression, and the PTSD Rhiannon mentioned, unfortunately, we understand the situation. We just thought this was news to deliver in p—”
“Her father?” I spoke that title with disgust. “Her father let her date a twenty-five-year-old man when she was fifteen. When she showed at his door with a black eye and asked for a place to stay, her father told her to go work it out with the guy who abused her. So why should we trust any word out of that man’s mouth? ”
They both cringed at that.
Edwards said, “She did have a clinical diagnosis for depression, Gwen—”
“She has the same situational depression that every woman has when their partner beats them, and their father doesn’t listen to them,” I snapped. “PTSD, fine. But she isn’t depressed.”
Mitchell stepped forward. “Rhiannon mentioned the miscarriage—”
“She was sad.” My eyes darted to his, unblinking.
“She was sad the same way that every woman who’s had a miscarriage—at least fifteen percent of us—gets sad.
But she wasn’t depressed. I have only seen her happy since she’s been here.
Happy to be away from that bastard. Just last night she was talking about going to college to be a preschool teacher.
Depressed people don’t plan their lives.
People who want to kill themselves don’t speak openly about their future. ”
“Are you saying you don’t think it was suicide?” Edwards asked.
Mitchell gave him a look for that. As if to say, She’s just in denial. Don’t feed the fantasy.
“I’m telling you that if she’s dead, her ex had something to do with it,” I said. “She didn’t kill herself. She wouldn’t kill herself.”
A deep breath escaped Mitchell’s nostrils.
“I know how my grief works, sir.” My voice shook as I continued. “When the doctors told me my mom was dead, I had a moment of disbelief. Then they said she’d been drinking and driving, and it all clicked. This isn’t that. I know Alison, and I know she didn’t kill herself.”
“We can do a bit more digging,” Edwards said. “But I gotta be honest with you, Gwen. There are no signs of foul play on her body. Right now, it looks like she drove out to the woods, and she did it herself.”
“How?” I shook my head again. “How did she do it? Did she take a bottle of pills? Did she jump off a cliff?”
Mitchell said, “I’m not sure the family would be comfortable with us sharing—”
“To hell with her family!” I shot him another look, unable to stop my voice from cracking. “Her dad is friends with her abuser. He didn’t just ignore that behavior—he expected it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s covering for the guy.”
“Let’s say you’re right.” Despite my yelling, Edwards remained calm, expression still compassionate and kind. “Let’s say her ex-boyfriend did this. How would he have found her?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words formed. My shoulders slumped.
“This place is secure,” Mitchell said, softening his voice. “Completely fenced and off the grid. Why would she have run into his arms? And if that was the plan, why didn’t she go back home? Why would she meet him half an hour down the road?”
After everything he did to me, I feel like I’m entitled to a little karma.
“Revenge,” I said. “I can’t count how many times she told me that she wanted him to pay.
She wanted him to hurt the same way he hurt her.
She wanted to tell him about the miscarriage, just because he wanted kids so bad.
She wanted him to hurt. Maybe she called him.
Did you find her phone? Did you look through it? ”
“Not yet, no,” Edwards said. “We do have a couple guys sweeping the scene.”
“She had her key card in her pocket, but not her phone?” Surely, my face expressed my annoyance.
“What eighteen-year-old girl doesn’t carry their phone in their pocket?
He must’ve taken it. It was a burner phone.
We all use burners. If she did call him, if she did get in touch with him, and they’d met in the woods, he probably got rid of it. It wouldn’t be traceable after that.”
Edwards pressed his lips together again, as if to say, Tell me about it.
“We will look into all of that,” Mitchell said. “We really appreciate all your help.”
“What—that’s it? You’re just gonna ignore this? Me and Rhiannon—we’re the ones who see her all the time. We would’ve known if she was depressed. Right, Rhiannon?” I looked at her. “You seem as shocked by all this as I am, so you couldn’t have thought this either.”
She still nibbled on her nails. “No. I wouldn’t’ve thought this.”