58. Willow
WILLOW
NOVEMBER PRESENT DAY
After the long, hot shower, I dry off and throw another one of Noah’s long T-shirts on with a pair of leggings.
He’s fast asleep. I checked to make sure he didn’t have a fever and that he was breathing correctly before deciding to go downstairs.
The doctor said rest is the most important part of recovery from the concussion, so that’s what he needs to do.
We probably shouldn’t have done what we did earlier, but I couldn’t help it. My body craves that man, and it’s honestly embarrassing how turned on I get just from the sound of his voice. I hope when he wakes up, his headache is gone.
When I reach the main floor, I can hear muffled shouting coming from the back patio.
When I glance around the corner and out the back sliding door, I can see Jeremy on the phone with someone.
He’s shouting and waving his hand around with his back to me.
I wonder what’s got him so irritated. I bet it’s something to do with Noah’s dad.
That piece of shit hasn’t even texted to check on Noah through this whole thing. Jeremy called him the first day we were there, but according to Jeremy, he acted like he couldn’t care less about Noah.
It’s Tuesday. I was supposed to do my second interview today, but since I’m currently taking care of the man who was supposed to interview me, I guess I just need to accept the job already. I’ll tell him after he wakes up.
I wonder what case Jeremy has been working on all day.
It’s getting late, and I can see the darkness creeping up over the water’s horizon as I tiptoe through the kitchen to the dining room.
The door is cracked open, so I easily slip inside.
I leave it cracked still so I can hear if Jeremy comes back inside.
I’ll just go out the other way into the sitting room.
Jeremy’s laptop is open, and papers are strewn everywhere across the table. A large manila folder sits on the table, closed with the word Vallero written on the front.
Vallero? Isn’t that the man whom Jeremy came to tell Noah about on Sunday? The one who got caught red-handed killing his wife?
My heart drops into my stomach when I think about what he said that day. I couldn’t hide my emotions as well as I thought I could. I was ready to bolt, especially since just before that, I was contemplating telling Noah everything.
I know I shouldn’t open the folder. Not only because I’m technically not an official employee yet, but also because I know what could be in that folder.
Evidence photos of the crime scene. If Mr. Anderson decided to pick back up Vallero’s case, which is what it looks like he did, then they would have access to everything.
I peer through the cracked-open door again and can see Jeremy still on the patio talking on the phone. He isn’t waving his hand around like before and almost looks calm. I wonder if he’s on the phone with someone else now…Maybe Jenna?
She dropped my car off earlier when she brought me clothes, and then Jeremy took her home. She doesn’t have class until Thursday, so I know she’s most likely still at home. I wonder if Jeremy will go over there for a while since I’m staying here tonight, so that Noah and I can have some alone time.
The sound of the back door slamming shut stops me from opening the folder. I quickly set it back down and rush to the sitting room. I grab a book off the coffee table and curl up on the couch just as Jeremy comes strolling back into the dining room, looking happier than usual.
“Someone looks happy,” I tease.
“Yeah, something like that.”
He glances around, probably wondering where Noah is.
“He’s finally sleeping,” I say before he can ask, and he smirks.
“Ah, you wore him out, huh?” he laughs.
“What? No. We just…”
“Willow…This house is old as fuck. Sound travels a bit too well, I might add. Even though you guys were hardly discreet.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Um…would you care if I went over to see Jenna for a bit? I mean, are you okay on your own here with him?”
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“No, I just mean…Sorry. It was just scary what happened the other day, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed really shaken up from the amount of blood.”
“I mean, who wouldn’t be?”
He stares at me for a moment, and I get this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he finally says. “I’m gonna head out. I should be back by morning.”
“Should be?” I tease, and he smiles.
“I don’t know if I’m going to fall asleep on the couch again.”
“Or in her bed?” I laugh, and he blushes.
He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and shakes his head.
“Call me if you need anything. My number’s on the fridge. Seriously, if anything seems off or you need me back, call. I always have my ringer on…unlike some people.”
He glares up at the ceiling, where two flights above us, Noah is hopefully still passed out.
“No worries, we’ll be fine. Go have fun.”
“Thanks, Willow. Night.”
“Night, Jeremy.”
I watch out the window as his taillights go down the drive before disappearing out onto the main road.
Once I’m sure he’s gone and the house is dead silent, I finally glance back over at the dining room table.
He didn’t put anything away. All his papers and that manila envelope are still scattered across the table.
I silently make my way back into the dining room and pick up the folder. My heart is racing, but I know I need to do this. I’ve had a few domestic violence and murder cases that I’ve dealt with as I shadowed different cases over the years, so this shouldn’t be any different.
Just one look. Just to see what I might be working on once I fully get hired on.
I close my eyes and open the folder. When I finally open my eyes again, all I can see are photos that are nearly identical to the ones I’ve seen hundreds of times. The ones taken from inside my childhood home, where my father murdered my mother and nearly killed me.
The wife is curled in a fetal position. A large kitchen knife is on the ground near her body…
If you could even call it that anymore. The man looks like he was in a fit of rage.
You can see the stab wounds scattered across her body.
Chunks of flesh ripped open, exposing down to the bone.
He didn’t just kill her, he mutilated her.
My chest feels like it’s being crushed as I flip through the photos.
The marble floor in the photos is clean and polished other than the bright red streaking across its surface, unlike the dirty linoleum that I remember from that night.
The cabinets are stark white, splattered with blood spray.
Even the stainless-steel appliances are now streaked with her blood.
The memory comes flooding back again. The nightmare. My mother curled around my small body, trying to protect me from his rage. The sickening sounds each time the knife pierced her skin. The gasping cries she tried to hide as she whispered everything would be okay as my world slowly faded to black.
I can’t breathe. My heart is racing, my vision is fading in and out, and I can feel my whole body shaking. No…Someone is shaking my body.
“Willow,” Noah’s voice pulls me back as strong arms wrap around me crushing me to his chest.
The folder drops to the ground scattering the photos everywhere as my body collapses against his. My broken sobs and screams echo through the house. I can feel my shirt is soaked in sweat and tears. How long have I been crying?
I can feel him holding me tightly as he lowers us to the floor and pulls me onto his lap. He rests my head against his chest as I let my body melt into his protective embrace.
“Shh. I’ve got you, Willow. I’m here now. It’s going to be okay.”
He repeats these words over and over to me. He kisses the top of my head as he runs his fingers through my damp hair trying to keep me here with him, but I can feel myself fading into the darkness. It’s too much. The memories are too much. They hurt too fucking bad.
“Noah, I…”
“Shhh. Don’t talk. Just breathe, Willow. I’m here.”
His strong hand runs down my back then rubs circles as my sobs start to go silent. My tears have stopped, and I can tell from the feeling against my face that I’ve completely soaked his shirt.
I let all control go as Noah picks me up in his arms and carries me out of the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the living room. I don’t fight him, protest, or even bring up the fact that he shouldn’t be lifting me because right now I can’t even breathe, let alone speak.
It feels like the world is closing in around me. My therapist warned me that trying to uncover my memories could have negative effects. Long-buried emotions could resurface. Fear and the pain from that night could come rushing back, and that’s exactly what happened.
Looking at those photos brought me right back to when I started studying law.
It was when I had one of the worst mental breakdowns I’ve ever suffered.
I looked up my mother’s crime scene in the national database.
The case had gone cold because my father was never found, so the files weren’t confidential anymore.
I was thankfully in my apartment and not the school library.
My roommate at the time heard me screaming and rushed in.
She said she couldn’t get me to stop screaming and crying.
She ended up calling 911, and the ambulance took me to the hospital where I was admitted for a twenty-four-hour mandatory psych hold.
I was evaluated by the hospital's psychologist while I was there, who then referred me to a therapist, and I have been with her ever since. She’s one of the only people still alive who knows everything about who I am and what happened in my past…At least the stuff I could remember.
“Willow, can you hear me?” Noah’s voice whispers against my head.
We’re in his front room sitting on his couch. I’m practically curled into a ball on his lap with my head against his chest and my hands grasping tightly onto his shirt.
“Willow, please say something.”
“I’m…okay.” My voice sounds foreign.
Oh God. He’s never going to want me on their team now that he saw what some crime scene photos did to me. One look at those photos and all I could see was my mom curled up on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood.
“What happened? Where’s Jeremy?” he asks softly.
“He went to my place to see Jenna. He…left the file on the desk and I thought…I was planning on telling you I wanted to accept the job, but,” my voice cracks, and I stop.
“But what, Willow?”
“I opened the file and…”
I can’t say it. I can’t.
“I need to go,” I rush out as I try to stand.
“What? It’s late. You’re not going anywhere,” he protests as he tries to hold onto me.
“Please, Noah. I have to do something.”
I need to go to that fucking house and destroy it.
It’s winter. Everything is dry and dead.
The house is old as fuck and will easily go up in flames with just a bit of accelerant.
Maybe if I do this, I can finally move on with my life.
I can let it all go. I can stop feeling like I have to watch over my shoulder.
Afraid of the boogeyman that haunts my nightmares.
“What do you have to do, Willow?” he asks firmly.
“I just need to go somewhere. Please, Noah. I’ll call Jeremy. He said he’d come back if I needed him to. There’s just something I need to take care of.”
“Whatever it is, I’m going with you.”
“What?” My breath catches in my throat.
He can’t come with me. He’s a fucking lawyer. I’ll be trespassing, breaking and entering, and if all goes well, committing arson. I can’t drag him into this.
“Noah. I promise I’ll tell you everything once it’s over, but I can’t drag you into my mess. Please,” I plead, but he just shakes his head.
“I told you I’d move Heaven and Hell for you, Little Rabbit. I’d kill for you. I’ll burn the world down with you if that’s what you need. Whatever it is, I’m by your side, no matter what.”
I stare into his dark eyes, and I swear I can see into his soul. He’s not just saying this to calm me down. He genuinely means it. He would do anything to keep me safe.
“Can we take your truck?” I finally ask, and a smile cracks through his seriousness.
“Of course, Little Rabbit. Whatever you need.”
“You might regret that.”