Round 48
ROUND FORTY-EIGHT
ROSE
“So what actually happened?” I move on to my middle finger, nibbling on the nail and destroying what I’ve worked so hard to improve since the hospital. “How did I end up in Plainview if I wasn’t traveling willingly, and you and I were happy? Did I run away? Did someone take me?”
“I don’t know.” Darcy’s voice crackles, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “You were just… You were there, and then you weren’t. We had plans for that week. Plans for the weekend. For later in the month. Everything was completely normal, until it wasn’t.”
“Was any of her stuff missing?” Billy questions. “Did she pack a bag? Leave a note? Any signs she was heading out for a couple of days?”
“Nothing.” He watches me. His entire body is pointed toward me.
“Your clothes were in the closet, like always. Your shoes. Your jewelry.” He gasps, his eyes widening.
Then he pulls back and digs around in his pocket, his pulse thundering against his neck about as quickly as mine does in my throat.
Finally, he drags his hand free again and presents a diamond ring that sparkles under the fluorescent light above.
“This is yours.” He places it on the table, not so far from the pictures of his family, then, pulling away, he creates space for me to take it.
My heart hammers against my sternum, nerves slamming in my belly. Inching forward, my eyes on the man I’m not entirely sure won’t try to take my hand, I carefully pick the ring up and pinch it between my fingers.
Shouldn’t I recognize it?
Shouldn’t it spark something in my memories?
“Why wasn’t I wearing it?” I turn it around in my fingers, studying the claws holding the heavy diamond in. The band, bare of any scratches. No dents. No sign of wear at all. “Happily engaged twenty-five-year-old women wear their rings all the time, right?”
“You never wore it to work.” He nestles against the back of his chair, lifting one foot and resting it on the opposite knee. “Because you were always digging in dirt, you were afraid you’d lose it. You had this cute little bowl at the house. Your grandma gave it to you—”
Piqued, I bring my eyes back to his. “My grandma?”
His lips curl into a sweet, almost nostalgic smile.
“She lost her wedding ring when she was young, she said. Ironically, in the garden. So when your grandpa replaced it, she swore she would be extra careful because she felt so awful about losing the first one. Every single time she went out, she took her ring off and set it in the bowl. She kept the bowl on the kitchen windowsill, which overlooked the garden. When we got engaged, I suppose she wanted to pass that tradition down, so she gave you the bowl and told you the story about the first ring. From the very beginning, you kept yours in the bowl while you were at work, and as soon as you came home, you put it back on. It was a reverse routine, in a way, where others might take their jewelry off at night. But not you.” His eyes soften.
They’re kind and gentle. Adoring, in a way.
“You said you missed your ring all day long while you were at the nursery, so putting it back on was the first thing you did when you got home.”
Curious, I place the ring at the tip of my finger and slide it on, testing to see if it fits.
Kinda hoping it won’t.
It does.
“You’ve never worn a lot of jewelry in the past. You had your fair share, since I like to buy it for you, and at least once a month, we had reason to dress up and look fancy.
For work. Or for a friend’s wedding. Whatever.
So you have a collection, but none of it was consistently worn.
” He gulps and looks down at the ring. “Except that.”
I spin the ring on my finger and frown.
Remember, Rose! Remember something, you idiot.
“Is my grandmother’s name Rosaline, too?”
A big, bright smile bursts across his face. “Yes! You remember?”
“Just her name.” I lick my lips and draw my eyes up. “Did she see the thing on the news? Was she worried about my disappearance?”
His expression drops, his brows lowering, and his lips falling into flat lines. “Um…” He draws a slow, shuddering breath. “Your grandma is… uh…” Sympathy shimmers in his eyes. “She’s declined a lot over the last few months.”
“Declined?”
“She’s been showing signs of dementia for a while. It was something that used to keep you up at night. But when you went missing and the police went to speak to her, things got worse. Fast,” he sighs. “They say the stress was just too much.”
“So she’s…” Fresh tears blur my vision. I’m hurting for someone I don’t know. Sort of. “She’s in a nursing home or something?”
“Yeah. She moved in about three or so years ago, about six months after your grandfather passed away. We already knew where her medical future was headed, so we made the choice to get her settled early, so when things inevitably got worse, she would already be comfortable and familiar with the staff. Your mom and dad had her in their home for those first six months, but—”
“My mom and dad?” I swipe fresh tears from the corners of my eyes. “I have a mom and dad?”
His shoulders crumble. His chest shrinks. “There was a car accident—”
“No,” I moan, my lungs jumping and spasming in my chest. “Really?”
“About a year and a half ago,” he sighs.
“Your dad had been working really hard at his job, even with your grandma’s ailing health and your grandpa’s passing the year before that.
He got a promotion he’d been looking forward to, so they went out to dinner and spent a fortune on lobster and wine.
You could look this up.” He glances toward Billy.
“There were newspaper articles about it and stuff. It was raining that night, the roads were slippery, and there was a stretch of road that had poor light. In the end, the investigators ruled it an accident.”
“W-was he drunk driving? You said lobster and wine, and then they—”
He lifts a single shoulder. A light shrug.
“They tested all that stuff afterwards, and they couldn’t come to any hard conclusions.
Your dad was a well-respected man in the community, so instead of harming an otherwise perfect reputation, they just…
” He presses his lips together, his brows pinching close and wrinkling his forehead.
“They let it go. For them. For your grandma. And for you.”
For me.
The police who refused to investigate my disappearance are the same that—maybe—wiped a drunk driving incident under the rug to save my feelings.
“It’s been a massive few years,” he continues. “Painful years. Everyone who knows you saw how you’d changed after that.”
“How did I change?” I draw a shaking, shuddering breath. “How so?”
“You were quieter. More introverted. You took leave from the job you loved so much, and let the garden at our house grow messy. You stopped caring. I’d hoped planning a wedding would bring the spark back into your eyes, and it did…
” He tilts his head side to side. “In a way. Choosing dresses and cakes and venues gave you direction again. Taking care of that ring—” His eyes drop to my hand.
“It reminded me of how you would tend to the garden. After a while, you went back to the nursery, and even visiting your parents’ graves became less…
” He exhales. “Taxing. Things were getting better. So much better. You kept our social calendar full and enjoyed hosting friends at the house. You got lonely a lot, so I made a point of decreasing my hours at the office, assigning my senior engineer to a managerial position. Which turned out for the best, really, because when you disappeared, I was able to put all my effort into finding you instead of worrying about work.”
“So, I was a depressed headcase before all of this?” I drag the ring off my finger and place it back on the table. “I was unhappy, and so I… ran away?”
“No. You didn’t run away, Rose. You didn’t leave.
You weren’t traveling. That’s what I kept saying to the police.
You weren’t depressed or broken or unfulfilled.
You were grieving, which is entirely natural and normal and okay after the couple of years you’d had.
But you were happy and healthy and excited for our wedding. ”
The door swings open on my right, startling me straight in my seat.
I gasp when Ollie stops in the doorway. “W-what are you—”
“What do you think happened to her?” His blue eyes, usually so kind, so sweet, so fricken perfect, burn with pain.
Rage. Grief. His knuckles glow white, gripping the doorknob with a violence he’s never shown me.
“You have a theory, Mr. Bisek. Despite the cops’ assumption that she was wandering, taking a sabbatical to work on her emotions, and her colleagues falling into line and suggesting the same, you’re adamant she wouldn’t do that. So what do you think happened?”
“Who…?” Darcy’s eyes flicker throughout the room. From Cliff. To Billy. To me. Then back to Ollie. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Oliver Darling.” He crosses the threshold and turns to shut the door, only for Ramone to follow him in and crowd our side of the room until we can’t fit anymore.
He doesn’t stop behind me. Doesn’t touch me.
Doesn’t even look at me. Which hurts more than I care to admit.
He merely stares at Darcy, his jaw gritting tight and his arms coming up to cross his chest. “I’m the doctor who worked on Rose the night she ended up in my ER.
The doctor who studied her CT and determined she’d suffered a traumatic brain injury.
” His shoulders and chest bulge from adrenaline.
Rage, maybe. Fear. “You’ve told us what you don’t think happened.
I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m ready to hear what you do think. ”
“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, frowning and swinging his eyes back to me. “Well… there was this person you used to work with. A guy. He was always a bit of a flirt—”
“Are you about to tell us she ran off with him?” Cliff snarls. “An affair with her colleague?”
“No!” Nervous, he drops his hand and shakes his head.
“No, not at all. But he always had a bit of a thing for her. Always trying to be her confidant. You were friends.” He brings his eyes back to mine.
“You were friends with everyone. It was easy, because you’re so damn likable.
But I always suspected he thought it was more.
And you…” He shrugs. “You’re too nice to realize not everyone is looking out for you.
When your grandpa passed away, he became…
” He considers. “I dunno. Clingy, I suppose. When your grandma went into the home, he wanted to be the person you cried to. When your parents died, he crossed the line, as far as I’m concerned. He tried to kiss you.”
My eyes flare wide, and without even consciously deciding to, my hand comes up, my fingertips pressing to my lips.
“You were furious. You shoved him away and really let him have it. It’s not often you allow your temper to fly quite so loud,” he chuckles.
“Colorful, too. Surprised me when you told me what happened. But I never thought poorly of you.” He places his hand on the table, stretching it across like I might take it.
I don’t.
“I trusted you, Rose. Always have. Because you’re the most authentic, honest, amazing person I’ve ever known in my entire life.
It’s easy to trust someone when that someone is you, so even when you told me the story of what had happened, and he had apparently said you wanted that kiss, I knew he was lying, and his lie only cemented what I already knew about him.
You were so mad. So sad, because you truly considered him your friend, and losing him, after you’d already lost so much, was painful for your heart.
But just a few days later, he came back to work and apologized.
He begged you to forgive him. And you, being the remarkable person you are, accepted him at his word and insisted things go back to normal. Just friends.”
“And were they?” I question. “Normal?”
He nods, with gentle sweeps of his head.
“They were. For a while, anyway. Then we got engaged.” His eyes flicker with sadness.
“After that, he completely lost it. He was furious. He was jealous and possessive and weirdly aggressive. It’s like…
before, he was living in this fantasy world where he would pretend he had a future with you.
But after we announced our engagement, it was too much for him. ”
“So what happened?” I rasp. “What did he do?”
“He dipped out again. Quit the nursery. No one saw or heard from him for months.” He scratches the side of his nose, sniffing and exhaling on a sigh. “He came back again in January, and right after that, you both disappeared.”
“You think they ran off together?” Billy rumbles.
“No. I think he forced her away. He took you,” he murmurs, bringing his focus back to me.
“I don’t know if he threatened you or blackmailed you.
It’s possible he tricked you, or hurt you, or maybe you were unconscious and didn’t wake up again until you were already hundreds of miles away.
I tried to tell the police what I thought had happened, but…
” He firms his lips, shaking his head. “Turns out, the guy had an uncle for a detective, and the detective vouched for him. They told me to drop it and shut up about it, or else.”
“That’s quite a heavy accusation,” Ramone inserts evenly. “To assert that the police were covering something up.”
He exhales an almost chuckle. “So you can probably appreciate how nervous sitting here, telling you these things, makes me.” He sits back and glances from face to face.
From one pair of eyes to the next. “I’m not saying you would do as the others did, and I’m extremely hopeful the thousand miles between here and home means you’re not buddies with those cops.
But I’m also not saying it hasn’t passed through my mind.
I just think it seems quite coincidental that he came back, and then they disappeared at the same time.
And a week or so after that, according to the interview I saw on the news, you were hit by a car and almost killed in the middle of nowhere.
You were alone. Afraid. You were running from him, Rose. You were not running with him.”
“W-what’s his name?” I stammer.
But I know. I already know.
“Liam.” He licks his lips, his jaw flexing under the barest shadow of stubble. “Liam Porter.”