The Family Tree: a psychological thriller Read online

  I’d even given my therapist my dysfunctional life story to dissect.

  My happy childhood as a doted-on single child. The tragic moment when my mother had been killed in a car accident. My falling into a grief so deep that I’d quit talking. How my father had sent me to a psych ward in his cowardly effort to help me. How I’d been drugged by the nurses and molested by my therapist. How the doctor hadn’t believed me. The humiliation. The confusion. The pain of betrayal.

  The therapist knew all of that, and it gave her plenty to work with.

  She didn’t need to know I had killed a man and buried him under a tree. Those twelve hours of my life story were best kept buried in the sound of silence.

  Katie walked into the reception area. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Jolene. Come on back.”

  I followed Katie down the narrow hallway to her back office. I pegged Katie’s age at somewhere in her forties. Bobbed hair with streaks of grey. A bit dowdy, with a kind face and compassionate voice. Easy for me to tolerate.

  Katie sat in a high-backed cushioned chair and I sat on the soft sofa.

  “I heard about Patsy Farr’s passing.” Katie’s sad eyes searched my face. “I know this is hard for you. How have you been doing?”

  My cracked red hands had healed, and I made a point of keeping them on my lap in full view. I’d started sessions with Katie soon after Annette had died, so she was familiar with the people close to me. “Grieving,” I said in a croaky voice. “It’s still a shock.”

  Katie watched me, like she expected me to say more.

  The tingles under my fingernails urged me to scrape and pick off the sensation of grimy dirt. I clasped my hands and squeezed hard. “I inherited Patsy’s house.”

  Katie’s chin dropped. “Huh.” Her calm voice didn’t waver. “Were you expecting to receive an inheritance?”

  I told her about the will. How I had to move in to take ownership. How Aaron had agreed to recommend I regain my custody rights and have the kids for a week over the summer.

  “That’s a lot to have happen so fast.” Katie raised her brows. “It sounds like you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

  If only I could tell her about the stalker. The oak leaf. “Yes. Overwhelmed is a good way of putting it.”

  “Any unwanted thoughts?”

  My fingertips itched, but I resisted the need to dig the dirt out from under my nails. The stalker. “No. I mean, nothing I can’t handle. The Anafranil is working, you know, keeping random thoughts at bay. What I’m worried about is… how can I live in Patsy’s house and not get stuck in grief? I have so many memories, and while they’re good memories, it’s all too…” I shook my head, not wanting to drone on like a pathetic loser struggling with her good fortune.

  “Let’s talk about that. Tell me what memories worry you the most about living in the house.”

  The family tree. My stomach tightened. Some things were unspeakable. “That I’ll miss Patsy and Annette even more. The house will be a constant reminder. I’m worried I’ll slip into obsessing again.”

  “Understandable. When do you move into the house?”

  Lola still hadn’t legally contested the will, as she’d threatened to do. “In two weeks.”

  “Do you have to move in right away?”

  “No. But my lease is up in a couple of months, so there’s no sense in delaying. Besides, I really want to beat the fears and obsessions. I want to focus on getting better. Getting stronger.”

  Katie smiled. “You have an incentive to get better. A strong determination. I see that.”

  “I do. I want to live in the house. Focus on the positive and be normal.”

  “You are normal, Jolene. You’re just going through a tough time. But let’s talk about moving into Patsy and Annette’s house. If you’re as intent on living there as you say, then we can discuss Exposure Response Prevention Therapy. Like we did with your hand washing. You can expose yourself to being inside the house in small steps.”

  Shivers ran down my spine. I recalled doing ERPT and having to get my hands dirty. I’d hated those exercises. Brushing my fingertips over the dirt, with that musty smell, and plunging my arm into bags of soil. It had helped me gain some power over the fear, but at times, I’d felt earthworms crawling through dirt beneath my skin. “I think you’re right. The exposure therapy is a good place to start.”

  “Once you have the house keys, give me a call and I’ll meet you there for a session. In the meantime, we can prepare for what you might confront on the first visit.”

  I nodded. Katie could help me learn how to control my fear of grieving alone in the house before the fear morphed into an illogical obsessive thought. She’d helped me so much with my compulsive handwashing. She could help me again. She had to. My future depended on it. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “And what about other friends? Is there someone who can stay with you for a while as you settle into the house?”

  The few friends I’d made with the mothers at the twins’ school had drifted away. Truth was, I’d inadvertently pushed them away. Hiding my anxiety and paranoia had become difficult. It was easier to isolate myself. I’d separated from all society except my children and my work. Unaware it was happening, it seemed that one day I’d been getting invited to all of the mommy-and-kid events, and the next day, I hadn’t been. Simply ousted. I’d never bothered to figure out why. I didn’t mind fading off into the background. “That’s another setback I have to contend with. I’ve lost contact with my friends over the past couple of years.”

  “It would do you some good to get out and socialize with people who have similar interests and a positive mindset. People you work with, maybe?”

  “Right now, I prefer to stick to myself.” I didn’t like the idea of people I worked with knowing about my personal life.

  Katie gave me the hard look of a caring friend. “In the long run, that’s not going to help you get any better.”

  Yes. I did want to get better. I had to prove to everyone I was a functioning human being. Normal humans interacted and socialized.

  Then it hit. Denise. I inhaled a breath. I remembered the text from her urging me to meet up for a girl’s night out. “I suppose I do know some people I could catch up with.”

  “Oh?” She tilted her head. “Tell me more about that.”

  “Old friends. I went to school with them from third grade through college. We’ve recently reconnected because—” my breath hitched. “Because of Annette and Patsy’s funerals.”

  “I see. Sounds like you were all close at one time.”

  My chest squeezed, and tears welled in my sinuses. “It was Patsy who brought everyone together.” I smiled at the memories playing in my mind. “She was a real social butterfly, you know? All through school and college, she’d throw parties for any reason and invite all her friends and neighbors. Her impromptu backyard barbeques were famous. I guess that was one reason Patsy did all that entertaining, to keep Annette and me close to home for as long as she could. My old friends—we all moved in the same crowd.”

  “They could be an excellent support system for you.”

  I looked to the ground. She was right to encourage me to get out of my headspace and my generic rental. Back into the real world. I took a deep breath. If only the past hadn’t reared its head.

  Katie observed me for a moment. “How has your anxiety level been?”

  My leg twitched and my eyes shifted to the flickering candle. I teetered between spilling everything to Katie and keeping my trap shut. I needed to release the pent-up guilt and remorse, but I could only dream of confiding what I’d done to Mike to someone who cared. Someone who would keep my secret and still love me even after what I’d done.

  But I wouldn’t risk losing what little I had left. My secret belonged in a tight compartment in my mind. I’d never open that headspace to anyone. Besides, I was overreacting and being paranoid. No one had harmed or threatened me. Wearing a black hoodie was not an offense and leaves got stuck
on windshields every day.

  Cheryl was right. The hooded person had been a prankster. I’d obviously overreacted.

  I smiled at Katie. “I’ll make an effort, Katie. I really will.”

  I’d move into the house and pretend everything was fine. I was good at pretending. Besides, soon the investigation would fizzle into a big nothing-burger.

  One day at a time.

  Chapter Eight

  Stepping into Ocean Joe’s Bar and Grill was like entering a time warp. Not much had changed since my college days when Annette and I had been regulars. Jimmy Buffett sang “Wasted Away Again in Margaritaville…” through the speakers. Behind the indoor tiki bar, strings of colored Christmas lights hung on the wall. Never mind that it was late July.

  Denise had invited me to join her and Nancy tonight to watch Jackson fill in as drummer for the local band, The Creed Brothers. I hoped getting out of the townhouse would take the investigation off my mind. Someone bumped into me from behind, and I stepped out of the way, searching the long and narrow bar for Nancy and Denise.

  “Hey, girl!” Melissa called out from behind the bar, filling a pitcher of beer. “Everyone’s waiting for you at the back. What d’ya want to drink?”

  Her chirpiness put me at ease. “I’ll have a vodka martini.” Tonight, I needed something strong to help take my mind off the investigation. I’d taken a Zoomer to the bar, so driving wasn’t a concern. If someone knew what had happened, they would have gone for the reward by now.

  Melissa shooed me. “Go on. I’ll bring the drink to the table.”

  I walked along the row of booths lined in front of open windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Floodlights lit the waves crashing on the shore.

  I was doing this. Taking my first step into a social life. The last week had been calm. No stalker. No leaves. No paranoia. Upping my meds another half a dose had helped keep random thoughts at bay. Unfortunately, the higher dose sometimes made me dizzy and disoriented, but I’d found that easier to cope with than obsessive thoughts and paranoia.

  The exposure therapy recommendations from Katie were helping. I only had to remember how I’d once easily socialized at school functions, mom’s night outs, Aaron’s work parties, and Patsy’s ongoing festivities. Until the leaves came and started triggering obsessive thoughts and handwashing rituals which could take up to an hour. Keeping secrets was never easy.

  Any discomfort or stress associated with the evening would be worth the benefit in the end. Catching up with old friends felt like a fresh start. Sure, they knew about my stint in the psych hospital, but it hadn’t been them who’d taunted me and called me ‘Psycho Girl.’ The schoolyard nickname had long worn off.

  Tonight, I would put my best foot forward.

  Jackson caught my eye and stood, waving me to a window booth straight ahead. Tall, with thick, shaggy brown hair and a round friendly face. If he killed the goofy grin, he might have been half-handsome.

  They all looked at me from the booth—Nancy, Denise, and Jackson—stretching their necks like a trio of meerkats. I’d moved in different social circles for the past fifteen years. Rarely seen people from this part of town. Never considered any of them a close friend. Now, they were my only friends, and I was grateful. But they didn’t know me. Didn’t see me. Didn’t notice I wasn’t as even keeled as I acted.

  Exactly the way I liked it.

  Jackson sat on the outside of the booth with Nancy next to the window, and Denise across from them. Denise patted the space next to her and scooted in. “Have a seat, sweetie.”

  I slid into the spot. Across the table, Jackson slung his arm over the back of the booth, almost touching Nancy’s shoulders. She smiled and inched closer to him. Anyone passing by would think they were a couple. But Nancy was married to Richard and had two boys. I turned a blind eye. What others did was none of my business.

  Denise cupped a strawberry daiquiri and made an animated I’m-so-sorry-for-you face. “How are things going for you, sweetie?”

  Here we go again. I hated when I felt the need to convince someone I was doing fine. Especially Denise. True, she’d been kinder to me recently, but we’d never formed a close bond the way I had with Nancy and Melissa. Didn’t help that she’d tattled to my PE teacher when I’d once cut a class.

  I put on my bravest face. “Really good. I mean—I miss Patsy and Annette horribly. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel real that they’re both gone.” I paused, realizing that all three had their attention squared on me. Why not? I’d lost a lot when Annette and Patsy had died. “I have my good and bad days, and lately my good days far outweigh the bad ones.”

  Denise squeezed my hand. “That’s my girl.”

  Jackson unslung his arm from around Nancy, leaned into the table and looked at me with a grin. “I heard you’ve inherited Patsy and Annette’s house,” he said.

  My insides squirmed, but I kept calm. “Yeah. That was an unexpected surprise.”

  Nancy cleared her throat. “A very nice surprise. That’s a beautiful property.”

  “Probably worth two million dollars,” Jackson said, widening his eyes. “So, what… you plan on selling the place?”

  “Uh, no. I’ll be moving in.”

  “No kidding?” Jackson’s eyes lit up and he slammed his hand on the table. “We’ll be neighbors. I live on Cardinal Street. Only a couple of miles from you.”

  Nancy shot Jackson a glare which could have leveled a barn. Then she turned to me and her expression shifted to that of a know-it-all. “Hell, if I owned that property, I’d sell it.”

  I rubbed my lips. I’d already disclosed more than I’d wanted about the inheritance. “Patsy requested that I live in the house, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “That’s a big house to live in by yourself,” Denise said. “Have you thought about a roommate?”

  “Live with someone? I don’t really know anyone—”

  “Melissa,” Denise said. “She just got notice from her landlord that she either needs to renew her lease for another year or move out in thirty days.”

  I didn’t find the idea completely off-base. Even Katie had asked if I knew someone who could stay with me for a while. And I liked Melissa. “But I thought she was moving to Richmond.”

  Denise stirred her pink drink with the straw. “Not if she can help it. She’s kind of in limbo right now. You should talk to her.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Nancy said. “You won’t find anyone more trustworthy or easier to get along with. And she works all the time, so it wouldn’t be like you’d be stepping on each other’s toes.”

  Jackson drummed his fingers on the table and stared at me with a smirk. I turned to Nancy. “It’s something to consider.”

  “She stayed at our house for a few weeks after she and Mark divorced,” Denise said. “She was an emotional wreck, but very respectful of our space.”

  Melissa had friends to support her during the downtimes. How nice. I needed some of that karma. “That’s not a bad idea. It would be nice to have another person in the house.”

  Melissa came over with my drink on a tray. She wore jeans and a tight, white Ocean Joe’s T-shirt. “It’s so nice to have us all back together.” She set my drink in front of me.

  “Jolene’s looking for a roommate,” Jackson blurted out.

  “No kidding.” Melissa rested her empty tray on her hip and smiled at me.

  My cheeks burned. I had to get comfortable talking about the inheritance at some point. “Guess you’ve heard I’ve inherited Patsy’s house, and well, I’m moving into the house soon and Denise suggested you might need a temporary place to stay.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened. “Patsy’s house? I’d love to. But I can’t commit for long. My aunt’s situation is iffy.”

  A buzz of excitement warmed my skin. “That’s fine. I don’t need a commitment. I’m planning on my children moving into the house in another couple of months.”

  Melissa lifted the tray into the air. “This might just work.
Let’s catch up later this week and talk about it some more.”

  “You got it.” I was doing it. Socializing. Moving on. It helped that I’d known these people for years. Our lives had changed since we’d been kids. Melissa had been smart in school. I’d always thought she’d become a doctor, or a lawyer. But she seemed happy enough working as a waitress and taking bartender shifts.

  A beach rat, some might have called her. I wasn’t one to judge. Melissa had been good to me since Annette and Patsy had died, and I valued her friendship.

  Jackson lifted his glass to me in a toast. “I’m happy you’re moving back to this part of town. You’re back with your own tribe now.”

  My own tribe. I wasn’t sure where I belonged anymore. But I tapped my glass to his and he winked. A flirty wink, and that made me uncomfortable. So did the glare I was getting from Nancy. I’d have to let her know I had no interest in Jackson.

  “Ohhh,” Denise said. “What about the annual Fourth of July party? You going to keep the tradition?” She sighed. “Patsy threw some great parties.”

  I lowered my head, twisting the stem of my martini glass between my fingers. “Nah. Patsy’s parties belong to the ages.”

  “Totally understandable,” Denise said. “It would feel strange to have a party without Annette and Patsy around.”

  “To Patsy’s parties.” I lifted my glass and we toasted. Taking a long drink, I pretended not to notice how Jackson watched my every move.

  Jackson leaned forward and hunched his shoulders over the table, his eyes darting to each of us. “Hey, you guys been following the Mike Morton missing person investigation that’s been in the news?”

  My skin prickled. Just hearing his name could set off my anxiety, but the topic wasn’t unavoidable, and I’d been curious about what the locals where saying. I sat an inch taller. “I read about it.”

  “That happened so long ago.” Denise said, stirring her pink drink.

  Nancy eyes were wide with interest. “What about it?”

  He took a swig of his beer then wiped his mouth. “I heard the reason the police have reopened the case is because the family put pressure on them. Mrs. Morton has an uncle who’s a senator or something high up like that.”