Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The intoxicating aroma of fresh coffee beans being ground and roasted forced Detective Scheffield to buy himself a mug of the steaming brew, loading it with sugar and creamer; scanning the interior of the small cafe as he stirred, taking into account the amount of help as well as how busy it was with patrons at this early hour. He was going on the assumption that this was the amount of business the cafe did every weekday morning. It looked to him like this was a business that was kept afloat by regulars.

"Excuse me..." he said, pulling aside one of the waitresses; a bubbly, young brunette wearing a nametag that read Jackie, "May I ask you a question, Jackie? Are you a regular employee? Were you working yesterday morning at this time?" the detective rolled off his tongue; realizing he asked the poor girl three questions, not one.

"Um...yes, I work every weekday morning, same hours 7 to 1." the attractive girl responded. "You looking for someone or something?" she inquired of him.

"Not exactly. Did you see this woman here yesterday morning, around this time?" he asked as he produced a photo of Grace from his breast pocket and showed it to her.

"Yep. I remember her coming in…um… about 8:00 or 8:15. She left me a $6 tip on a $4 cup of coffee. She sat outside for about 30 minutes, maybe. I especially remember her because she had an enormous, scary dog with her...and it was not on a leash." answered the waitress, offering up more than he had asked of her; her southern accent slight, not irritating like a lot of folks in these parts.

"Thanks for your help, Jackie." he said sincerely as he flashed her a quick smile.

"No problem." she told him, smiling back at him.

And that was good enough for him. It would not be good enough for his boss he knew; and would never cut it in court either. Grace technically had the time to get to Genevieve's, commit the murders, cover her tracks and get back to town to walk home - if someone had picked her up and dropped her off. He worried there may not be a way to prove that very scenario did not take place. And that could turn into something extremely bad for Grace if he couldn't find the real culprit. He finished his coffee and ordered another to go as he pulled out a wad of crumpled cash to pay his bill. Settling up, he walked back over to the table he'd been sitting at and threw a $10 bill down for the waitress. And with that he was gone; off to the next big adventure that awaited him, which would probably involve a lot of time spent driving around, finding people and asking questions. The same questions over and over until someone gave him some solid information he could actually work with; whichever direction the facts led him being the direction he would follow. Unless it led him to Grace that is. His superior had always told him to go with his gut feelings; and that was precisely what he was doing now. She didn't do this; he just felt it.

While the detective was in route to track down Genevieve's closest neighbors; to inquire about their whereabouts yesterday morning; and if they heard or saw anything out of the ordinary; Grace and Jesse were on the way back to his house to drop off her things - as well as rescue Casey from the oppressive heat of the day. At least now she had a few of her toys to keep her occupied. Not much conversation took place in the car, so it wasn't very difficult for Grace to omit the fact that she had Adrienne's most personal possession, her diary. She felt awful for not telling him the truth, but that didn't trump her belief that, for the meantime, she shouldn't trust anyone completely. Even her lifelong, proven trustworthy best friend. Something still felt off to her about the whole situation; like perhaps it would hit closer to home than even she could fathom. Time changes people; that much she knew from personal experience. And the changes that occurred were more often bad than they were good…in her experience.

The pair arrived back at Jesse's house; him helping her by carrying in the heavy duffle bag - dropping it in the bedroom for her so she had privacy if she needed it. Thanking him, she closed the bedroom door behind him; wanting to change into clothes that actually fit and were a little more appropriate for her next stop; the hospital to see Adrienne. She was certain she would have no choice but to deal with at the very least her uncle; and she was much more confident in her own clothes...if she couldn't be on her own turf. Choosing a light, flowing dress that accentuated the curves of her body quite well, she quickly changed and sprayed a light mist of her perfume. She had already braved the heat once and broken a sweat, but she had no desire to smell as if she had. Digging her toothbrush, make-up bag, and hairbrush out; she headed to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and did her best to tame her thick mane of hair. She applied minimal make-up; covering a few blemishes with concealer and sweeping gloss onto her full lips.

Leaving her things in the bathroom, Grace took one last look in the mirror and thought to herself “good enough”. She headed out to the living room, to let Jesse know she was ready to go, and found him sprawled out on the floor; playing tug-of-war with Casey. It seemed to her, from the look of things that her dog was winning the round hands down. She yanked the toy out of his hands then by violently twisting her head back and forth; then strutted around the small living room victorious; her mangled, stuffed toy still dangling from her strong jaws. Jesse simply looked up at Grace with an impish grin, shrugging his broad, strong shoulders.

“You ready?” he asked, popping up onto his feet; running his fingers through his curly, brown hair.

“Yeah…I’m ready.” she answered slowly, her voice almost a monotone.

“Are you sure?” he begged of her. It was obvious she had some sort of reservations; he could see it in her face.

“Yep. Let’s just go, before I change my mind.” rolled quickly off her tongue. She knew that she would chicken out if she waited any longer. She was already chastising herself for being such a weak person, but she was afraid. Afraid of what she would find when she actually got to her cousin’s hospital room.

“Okay.” he replied gently, nudging her shoulder lightly with his own. “Come on. We can get some lunch after the hospital. Anywhere you want to go. My treat.” he offered as the only condolence he could think of to offer at the moment.

She nodded her head in acceptance, then turned on her heels and walked swiftly out the front door; shielding her eyes from the bright sun rays that struck her face as she stepped outside and walked to the car, disappearing into the passenger seat. He followed directly behind, getting to the car quickly to start it up and blast the air conditioning.

Again, there was really no conversation during the twenty minute ride to the hospital. He knew she was thinking about Adrienne and how she was faring, but he also knew she was petrified about having to face her uncle – and her aunt – particularly because of the unique set of circumstances they now faced…together. She detested both relatives; her uncle for always treating her mother so dreadfully; and her aunt for doing as much to Adrienne. He himself had some quite vivid memories of her uncle, Christopher, treating Grace almost as reprehensibly as he had done to her mother. This had a profound effect on her growing up, and she fully admitted this; telling him of how she would physically begin to shake when he was around; how she felt as if she couldn’t breathe in his presence. And now she had no other choice but to face these fears head on; as if the fear over her cousin’s condition wasn’t punishment enough emotionally.

While she was preparing for her visit, the detective made his way over to the home of the first witness he planned to get a statement from; Genevieve’s closest neighbor, Herbert Mullins. The entire neighborhood was spread apart, being a rural community; Mr. Mullins house resting less than a mile from hers and across the street. The road actually dead-ended two more houses down, so any traffic wanting to leave had to travel in the opposite direction. This meant that if a car had pulled into and then left Genevieve’s driveway trying to get away, it would have had to drive right past the old man’s house.

He found Herbert Mullins in his front yard, shuffling around with a watering can and a pair of pruning shears. Dressed in denim overalls and sporting a large, straw hat, he looked like a photo straight from Farmer’s Weekly; Matt Scheffield thinking that he could successfully pass for a scarecrow if only one added a post to hold him up and put him in a cornfield. He parked his car on the street; getting out and walking over to the old man, his hand outstretched.

“Hi there. How are you today, sir?” he offered in greeting; the man shaking his hand, but maintaining the look of skepticism on his face. “I’m Detective Matt Scheffield with the Aurora Police. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about what happened yesterday at your neighbor’s across the street?” he asked, getting straight to the point. He had much too much ground to cover and he needed to cover it fast, so he felt he had to cut out the small talk.

Mr. Mullins’ skepticism waning, he answered “Yes, sir. I remember seein’ ya. What can I do for you?”

Pulling his little notebook and a pen from his breast pocket, he began “Can you take me through your morning yesterday? It would help if you could walk me through what you did, from the time you woke up until around 9:00am. Can you recall anything out of the ordinary – anything at all? A car driving past your house? Maybe one you didn’t recognize? Did you see anyone you didn’t recognize hanging around?” the detective inquired. He thought he would save valuable time by killing two birds with one stone; getting the old man’s alibi at the same time he was pressing him for any details that may help the investigation.

“Well, let me think. I always get up the same time, at 6am. I drank my coffee while I read my paper, then had my breakfast around 7:30 or so. After I done my breakfast dishes, I went outside to tend to my garden and feed the animals; just like I do every day. Don’t know exactly what time it was, but when I was out back of the house – feedin’ the chickens – I heard three shots go off: it was two shots, then one more after that. Didn’t think nothin’ of it; you hear guns going off all the time out here; between huntin’ and target practice.” Herbert Mullins informed him to the best of his ability.

“And you live here alone, do you?” prodded Detective Scheffield.

“Ever since my wife passed 12 years ago, it’s just me. We never had no kids.” he replied; taking off his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead with a dirty blue bandana he had retrieved from his back pocket.

“Do you remember seeing or hearing a car drive past at any point? Or did you see anyone walking to or from this direction?” he asked as he raised an arm and pointed his finger toward Genevieve’s property.

“No, sir. No cars come down the street at all that I seen in the morning. And I didn’t see no one coming or going from Genevieve’s, if that’s where you’re pointing to. Not till I seen that first police car go flyin’ past. Then I walked across the street to see what the Hell was going on. You know, I like it here ‘cause it’s quiet and don’t nobody bother ya. Ain’t something you see every day around here.” Herbert explained to the detective with feeling, appearing to be tiring of the inquisition.

The detective had been careful the whole time to take note of the old man’s demeanor, with which at first he saw no issues. However, as the questioning continued, he seemed to tire of it; as if he wished it would come to an end. Perhaps he was simply tiring of it and that is all there was, but Matt Scheffield couldn’t help but think there may be something more to it than that. And Herbert Mullin’s answers to his next questions and the changes in his body language only reinforced that theory for the rookie detective.

“Can you think of anyone who may have had a grievance against Genevieve or her granddaughter? Any reason someone would want to harm them, or want them dead?” he asked Herbert.

The old man paused for a moment before answering, seeming to tense up immediately at the mere mention of these things, “No, sir. I know she’s not everyone’s favorite person; and that girl neither when she’s around, but it hadn’t never ended in no trouble. No one ever tried to do her no harm or nothing.”

Yes, he has something to hide, thought the detective. What his secret was he hadn’t a clue yet, though. He had been around long enough to learn that everyone has secrets…of some sort. And nobody wants to be outed, that’s why they’re called secrets. But what he had also learned was that sometimes the secrets had nothing to do with the case; only had some small thing in common with the situation. There were even times when they had nothing in common; it was merely a guilty conscience on the part of the answerer. The problem was Mr. Mullins essentially had no alibi; no way to concretely account for his whereabouts during the time the crime must have occurred. The neighbors were so spread apart that, just because he claimed to have been outside on his own property, it didn’t mean that anyone had seen him. For all Detective Scheffield knew, he could be the culprit. He certainly had plenty of time to get back home, stash a murder weapon; then walk back across the street after the police arrived; pretending to be nothing more than an innocent, curious bystander. Who would be the wiser?

“I just have one more question for you and then I’ll let you get back to your day, if that’s alright?” he started, noting the slight relief beginning to wash over the old man’s face, “Do you own any guns?”

“Yes, sir. I got a 30-30 Winchester I use for hunting; and a .22-caliber pistol. Hell, that thing ain’t been fired since I don’t know when.” answered Mr. Mullins honestly, “You can see ‘em if you like.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. And thank you for your time as well; you’ve been very helpful.” Detective Scheffield said; ending the informal interview, “I’ll let you get back to your day.” he added, shaking Herbert Mullins’ hand once more.

Herbert simply nodded his head as he flopped his straw hat back onto his head; obviously in an attempt to convey to the detective that he had work he had been neglecting during his visit, and wished to get back to it. Anything so the lawman would go away and leave him alone. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep the guilt he felt about his secret from showing on his face; or how well he actually did trying to hide his emotion in the first place. It never even crossed his mind that the police could consider him a suspect. He was Genevieve’s closest neighbor by far; in a residential area that was spread out and with people who preferred to keep to themselves for the most part. So he could have easily walked across the street to her house, shot the two women, and left them for dead; having plenty of time to walk right back across the street to his house and stash the murder weapon before the police arrived. In a community such as this one, where everyone knows everyone, nobody would ever suspect the quiet old recluse of doing something so nefarious. The man seldom spoke to anyone, about anything. Yet, he got the feeling this neighbor was not the culprit for whom the police were searching. When he spoke of Genevieve, he still referred to her in the present tense. The killer probably would have referred to her in the past tense; knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was no longer among the living, having been there to witness it for himself.

For the detective, one piece of information he acquired during his questioning of Herbert Mullins was useful to him. If he was outside at the time he claimed to be, and saw no cars coming or going down the street at all – much less coming or going from Genevieve’s driveway – that meant that Grace could not have been dropped off and/or picked up from the residence. It only proved to him that her alibi was pretty solid. Between the waitress at Hansen’s coffee shop identifying her by photo and giving her approximate time of arrival and departure, and the old man relating to him the lack of traffic during the time in question; that should be enough to convince anyone, but more importantly his boss, the biggest skeptic of all time. And for some reason, having the ammunition to exonerate her gave him pleasure. Perhaps he was mirthful only because he was able to cross one suspect off the long list and move on to the next, though he couldn’t help but feel his jubilance may be somewhat unprofessionally displaced…maybe. At least he was starting to get somewhere with the investigation.

He decided while he was in the neighborhood that he would head across the street to Genevieve’s property and take a quick walk around the outside of the house and the perimeter of the acreage to see if anything jumped out at him. It was pretty clear that the suspect had not arrived or left using the road running in front of the house; and the only thing beyond the back yard was woods. He had a difficult time imagining that the culprit would have had the time to successfully evade capture leaving on foot, but it appeared that is what had to have happened. He believed what Herbert Mullins had told him about not seeing or hearing any cars come down the street. Actually, he believed everything the old man had said; it wasn’t that he lied about anything; just that he was fairly certain there was some relevant fact or facts that he had carefully omitted.

The detective began his walk at the back door of the house. He knew that Grace had used this door when she left to go on her run early in the morning; so one set of shoe prints in the earth – made soft by the almost daily rainstorms – obviously belonged to her. It was easy to tell there were three sets of prints leading from the back door; what seemed odd to him was that there appeared to be no discernable prints leading to the door. There had been no earth disturbed under any of the windows around the house; nor any windows tampered with by anyone; and the only other access to the house besides the back door was the front door. The back door had to have been the point of entry, he thought to himself. Two sets of prints had been fairly small, one belonging to Grace, and the other probably to her grandmother. The third set of prints was noticeably larger, so his assumption was that this set belonged to the killer. He simply couldn’t fathom that he gained entry through the back door without leaving behind evidence in the form of a shoe print facing in that direction, left a few prints close to the back door yet facing away, then left no more prints leading in any direction. It didn’t make any sense to him. So instead of focusing his attention close to the house, he began walking toward the woods; trying to keep in a straight line in the direction of the few larger prints he had found. At the time of day the killer struck, the grass would have still been damp with dew, so he wanted to check for any spots that may have stayed depressed from someone walking on them. He didn’t see much until he got to the end of the clearing and the beginning of the forest; then started to notice that there were some snapped twigs on the ground, and beyond that several partial shoe prints on the ground that seemed to be facing away from Genevieve’s house; not enough to provide concrete proof of anything, but definitely enough to rouse his curiosity. He followed the trail a little deeper into the trees, but didn’t see much else in the way of useable evidence. Still, he planned to send some officers out here to see if there were any more clues lurking even deeper in the thick forest.

 At the other end of town, Grace and Jesse arrived at the hospital; him dropping her off at the door while he braved the parking lot to find an available spot; one that wasn’t a mile away from the Emergency Room entrance. She could never have imagined that she was paying any attention yesterday when she was at the hospital, but apparently something stuck with her because her feet walked her directly to the desk where the day before she had been approached by the empathic nurse, Julia. Luckily, she happened to be right there; leaning over the desk talking on the phone. As Grace neared, she looked up, smiling at her; holding her index finger up as if to say “Be with you in a sec”. Grace smiled back at her and nodded in comprehension of the kind nurse’s gesture. Less than 3 minutes later, Julia hung up the phone and turned her attention toward her.

“Hey. I don’t know if you remember me…from yesterday…” began Grace; Julia cutting her off mid-sentence.

“Of course. How are you doing?” she inquired, with genuine sympathy in her voice. “I made it a point to go up and check on your…cousin is it?” which was met with a nod to say yes, “I wish I had better news for you, but there have been no significant changes since last night. She’s still on a ventilator, so don’t be alarmed at the sight of her. It looks much worse than it is.”

“Thank you so much for taking the time. I know you didn’t have to do that…and I just want you to know how very much it means; especially at a time like this.” she said, expressing true gratitude to the nurse.

“It’s my pleasure.” was her reply, “Your cousin is still in ICU. Let me take you up there. You know, your aunt and uncle have been here the entire night and day. I don’t know if you have any influence there, but they really need a break. At the very least, a hot shower and a good meal.” she added; donning a smile that seemed to signify admiration for such dedication. Grace couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t so much dedication to their daughter as something a bit more sinister.

She thanked Julia again as she followed her to the elevator and rode with her to the second floor. This was, in all probability, the most exciting situation that had ever brought patients to the tiny hospital, she thought to herself. Following the nurse’s swift footsteps, they came to the room in which her comatose cousin lay motionless in a bed. She stood outside the door for several minutes; a lump forming in her throat. The last thing she wanted was to have any sort of conversation with her relatives, though she realized that was impossible. Taking a few deep breaths, she finally grabbed the door handle and forced her hand to turn it; then slowly pushed open the heavy door.

Walking into the room cautiously, she was taken aback by the sight in front of her. If she didn’t know it was Adrienne, she would not have recognized her; a network of tubes and wires attached to her; each leading to a different machine. The worst part was the tube shoved down her throat that was affixed to a ventilator that, at the moment, was breathing for her. She wanted to turn and run, but her feet seemed stuck to the floor. Her aunt and uncle were seated in chairs on opposite sides of the bed, just waiting she supposed. They both looked a bit disheveled; turning around to see who had entered the room. Her uncle saw her and whipped his head back around angrily so he was no longer facing her. To her colossal surprise, her aunt actually popped up from her chair when she realized the visitor was Grace; and came over to her, wrapping her arms around her in a tight embrace.

When Grace finally pulled away gently, Caroline blurted out, “Oh my goodness, Grace. We’ve been so worried about you! What a thing to come home to. We didn’t even know you were in town until the police came to speak with us. You left so quickly; we were going to tell you that you should spend the night at our house, but when I went to look for you, you were just gone. Where did you stay last night?”

“Um, I stayed at Jesse’s last night. I wasn’t sure…I didn’t know if you…well, never mind; it’s not important now.” she said in reply to Caroline’s question; not quite knowing how to react to her atypical behavior.

Generally, she did not receive such a warm welcome from her cousin’s parents. She wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but it only added fuel to the fire of her curiosity. Something was up and she planned to find out what it was. Her Uncle Chris said nothing to her as she walked around the bed to get closer to Adrienne. There were a hundred things she wanted to say to her unconscious cousin, but wasn’t about to say any of them in present company. All she could do was stand there, helplessly holding the girl’s limp hand. The unsuspecting girl simply lay there, motionless; her face pale; the only movement that of her eyes behind her closed lids…like she was merely dreaming. Her head was still wrapped in bandages; tufts of dark hair peeking out here and there. Grace stood there taking it in for as long as she could bear, which wasn’t very long. She squeezed Adrienne’s hand gently before letting go; promising a silent promise to get to the bottom of this. She vowed to find out why this happened; not actually knowing how on earth she was going to do that. Then she gingerly placed her hand back down on the bed, careful not to pull the IV or anything else loose.

Turning toward her uncle, she forced herself to say, “Bye Uncle Chris.” though he didn’t respond or even look her in the face when she did so. Not that she actually expected any words from him.

She also made herself give Caroline a hug; though a curt one. There was no point in trying to convince either of them to take a break and do anything; she knew her opinions carried no weight. Looking at Adrienne one last time, she walked out the door; closing it behind her. She was surprised to see Jesse seated in the hall right outside the room, but relieved for a friendly face at the same time. He wanted to inquire as to her cousin’s condition, yet thought better of it when he saw the expression she wore; one that seemed to say “not yet”. So he simply rose from his chair and gestured for her to lead the way.

As a matter of fact, she said nothing at all on the way down in the elevator, exiting the hospital doors, or walking through the parking lot to the car. Not only was she gravely concerned about Adrienne and whether or not she was going to pull through, she had also been thinking about the fact that she would be burying her grandmother in a few days. She wasn’t sure how the funeral arrangements were being made; she definitely hadn’t looked into it and her only other living relatives had not left the hospital once, according to the nurse, Julia. It was certain an autopsy would be performed on Genevieve; her death being ruled a homicide. Grace couldn’t imagine for what exactly they were looking. There wouldn’t be any discovery during this process that would lead them to the killer; and her cause of death was painfully obvious, even to the layperson. Frankly, she didn’t see the point of desecrating her body for no good reason.                                        

The whole situation had changed her outlook drastically. The invincibility she once felt had been replaced with thoughts and fears about her own mortality. Maybe one of the bullets had been meant for her and the killer was out there, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to take her out, she couldn’t help but wonder. All of this made any feelings or reservations she may have had about leaving Michael seem so unimportant right now; like it was petty of her to even think of her own feelings at a time like this. It felt selfish. Actually, this was the first time since the incident that he had crossed her mind at all. The very moment she was told her Gram was dead…was the precise moment she forgot all about Michael and why she was here. Death kind of trumps a break-up, she guessed.

For lunch, Jesse took her to own of her old favorite restaurants; Sonny’s BBQ on 4^th Street. There is something to be said for North Carolina barbecue. It may be unhealthy and artery-clogging, but it tastes damn good going down. Though it was delicious and a food she had not relished in years, it was still difficult for her to enjoy. Reality had begun to set in…and she was not pleased with the pictures forming in her mind; pictures of Genevieve lying in a pool of her own blood; eyes fixed and dilated. Pictures of Adrienne waking up, but suffering from brain damage so severe she could no longer even speak; or worse, not waking up at all. The uncertainty regarding her cousin had to be the worst part. With her grandmother, she knew there had been no chance of survival – she was already gone by the time the police arrived. Not that these admissions made her happy; they only made her reserved. But with her Addie…it could go either way. She could live or she could die. Grace was finding the hope for her survival paralyzing. Hope, for her, as well as faith in the unseen, had always felt paralyzing. It infringed upon her daily life at times; making even everyday activities seem insurmountable. More than one job had slipped through her fingers in the past; due to her complete lack of focus on the tasks at hand during some of her more troubled times.

After they finished eating lunch, Jesse announced that he had to go in to work for the afternoon and get caught up on a few things he had been neglecting. That was okay with her; she actually had something she wanted to do – something that required privacy, as she wasn’t ready to let him or anyone else know the object she secretly had in her possession – Adrienne’s diary. On the drive back to his house so he could drop her off, they chatted a bit about Adrienne and about how she had been treated by her aunt and uncle, which she informed him was a very strange meeting because of her Aunt Caroline’s unusual reception. He wasn’t sure what to make of that either.

He dropped her at his house; unlocking the door for her, then leaving without even coming in. She watched from the window to make sure he was gone before going to the bedroom; rummaging around in her duffle bag to find the diary. Pulling it out, she headed out to the living room; plopping down on one of the oversized, pale yellow armchairs; tucking her legs underneath her. It took her a minute to open the small, brown book; not quite sure of what she was afraid might find scrawled on the pages of her cousin’s most personal possession. Her curiosity overrode any fear she was feeling, so she opened the book and thumbed through until she found the last, most recent entry, and began reading. 

May 8

Dear Diary,

Do you see what I mean?!? This is crazy. Every time I start to think about it again, she appears. I haven’t been able to get it off my mind all week; and come Friday – who shows up knocking on the door? It has to be a sign. An omen. I have to tell her!!! Sometimes I feel as if I will explode, because this secret is simply too big for my mind and body to house. I can’t hold it inside anymore; it’s killing me. I hate him for doing this to me! How could he ask me to keep such a thing to myself? For the last ten years! Doesn’t he know what it has done to me – to my life? Does he even care? Sometimes I don’t think he does. Care. Now I’m beginning to understand why; why all the psych hospitals; why all the medication that made me like the walking dead. Who could handle this kind of stress without flipping out once in a while; when it all just becomes too much? Certainly not me. I’m pretty sure I’ve proven that…to myself and everyone else. Only the worst part is – they don’t have a clue what I am so stressed out about. Nobody but him, and he’s made it clear all he cares about is himself. Oh, and that selfish bitch. Not even she knows. What a laugh. God, I really, really need your help right now. I don’t ask for much, but if I don’t get some peace I don’t know what I’m going to do. Please, if you can hear me up there, help me find a way out of this madness. Help me do the right thing. And we both know what that is.

Adrienne

Grace just sat there with her mouth open and her blue eyes wide. Well in a way, she thought, this explained some things about Adrienne that she had not understood in the past; why she could never look her in the eye for very long without turning away; why she always seemed so ashamed. If she had been carrying a secret so big she wasn’t even willing – or able – to write it in her diary…the secret was a huge one. And it somehow involved her, though she could not imagine in what respect. What could be so monstrous that she couldn’t tell her own cousin; her best friend for all intents and purposes, she asked herself; almost becoming angry at the thought of her keeping something Grace obviously should know to herself; and for 10 years. Addie, please wake up, she begged silently.

“Addie, please wake up!” she repeated aloud, “You have to wake up!”