Vanished

Digging my fingernails into the dusty banister—desperate to ground myself—a crack of distant thunder sabotaged my attempt. The smell of earth mixed with damp air brought me back to that fateful night. I thought I'd put the horrendous events of my childhood behind me, but trauma, like a stalker, can pounce at any time. Leaning on the railing, I practiced the breathing exercises I’d learned in therapy. Then I stood straight, confronting the lengthy, dim hallway of my childhood home.

That year still haunts me. It was 1985 when fingerprinting kids became the frenzied answer to news reports concerning the rise in child abductions. I was barely a teenager when I braved the blistering heat with my family at the local Burger King to get fingerprinted. Summer in the southeastern U.S. is brutally humid, and it had me doubled over, drenched in sweat. I can still picture my father’s compressed lips and almost closed eyes.

“Stand up straight, Daniella. You don’t want to end up a hunchback like your grandmother.”

My little brother, Danny, mockingly wiggled his hands behind our father’s back, dancing like a rodeo clown. I was always thankful for his light-hearted intrusions to rattle my stoic personality. I don’t recall our father always being so demanding, but he seemed to grow more bitter as the years passed. His somber arrivals home from work slowly escalated into violent rants and throwing objects around the house. My forehead bears the scars.

“Daniella, listen to your father,” my mother had said, as she watched me wipe my sweaty face before shoving me forward in line.

I wasn’t surprised she had sided with him. His income afforded her the life she’d always wanted. She straightened her silk blouse—an antique pearl necklace rattling around her neck—and asked, “If someone were to kidnap you or your brother, how would we find you?”

Ironic, I thought, as I refocused on the bare and dilapidated hallway. I was thirteen, and Danny was just shy of turning ten that year. One more month and he would have celebrated his birthday. Despite being sick for some time with an unexplained illness, Danny eagerly awaited his pool party. Mother, excited to host an elaborate gathering, had already bought presents and decorations for the shindig that would never happen.

It was stormy that night. I remember tiptoeing down the long, dark hallway before freezing mid-stride when I saw the shadowy outline of a figure at the opposite end. The patter of footsteps led away from me, followed by the front door slamming shut. I rushed to the window that overlooked the foggy grounds, but all I saw was a full moon and trees swaying in the chaotic night air. Shrugging it off, I returned to bed, only to awaken the next day to the shouts of my parents. Danny had vanished without a trace.

My mother soon became bedridden, never again stepping out of her room. She’d dried up into a rail thin, unresponsive shell overnight. Mary Brown, a once dignified and active member of our town, had become nothing more than a ghostly tale. My father cared for her diligently, rarely leaving her side. Odd, for a man with his gruff nature.

“Why didn’t you run after him? What are you, stupid? What were you thinking?” my father had said to me.

I remember that day when the forensics team pulled my brother’s body from the lake behind our home. I’d snuck down, peeking from behind the large oak, to see his fragile, wrinkled fingers encircling a clump of grass as if holding on for dear life. I stood frozen in fear, watching as they loaded his body onto the gurney. Tears flooded my face as I wondered how my brother ended up in the lake. My father had said he’d fallen in and drowned, but I couldn’t believe it. Danny knew how to swim.

My father kept the incident hidden from my mother, as her fragile mind was beyond repair. He grieved enough for the both of them, putting on a show for the paramedics, holding his gaunt cheeks between bony fingers and wailing like a banshee. I saw no tears, only cold and piercing, glossy eyes.

My mother died less than a year later. After her passing, my father and I argued almost daily. My rebellious nature did not sit well with him. He even locked me in my room for days on end, sliding a tray of food inside the door before bolting it again. The stress of it all had taken its toll on me, and I soon found myself riddled with severe stomach pains. I finally escaped through a window and scaled the manor before running to a neighbor’s, calling my aunt to come get me. I stayed with her for the summer, returning home in spurts, avoiding my father at every turn. He seemed content with my absence, stating he’d grown tired of caring for a family that he believed to be cursed.

I sometimes thought my mother and brother were the lucky ones, never again forced to face the wrath of Cornelius Brown. Many times I wished to join them in death, just to escape the abuse. I left for good when I turned eighteen and never looked back.

***

“Almost ready?” My husband peeked around the cracking paint of the front door, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Yeah. I’m just wrapping things up.”

“How do you feel? Being back here and all?”

“I’m okay.”

“Daniella—”

“I said I’m fine, Tom.”

“I just want to make sure your attacks don’t start up again. You know what happened last time when you had an episode?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” I huffed, shaking my head.

“The realtor called and said he’s on his way.”

“Can you take these boxes to the car while I go check the attic?” I asked before spinning around.

“Hey,” my husband said, grasping my arm and turning me toward him. “You know I’m here for you. You can talk to me.”

I slammed my hands against my sides. “Being in this place is bringing back memories I thought I’d buried. I only wish I could’ve saved my brother.”

“Remember what your counselor said—”

“You don’t understand what it was like living under this roof. Danny was all I had.” My face grimaced as I stared into my husband’s sympathetic green eyes.

He stroked my silky, brown curls. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know what it was like, but I know how it has affected you, and I don’t want to see you go through what you’ve experienced these last few years. Your father was a monster, and you deserve to be happy—free from the hold he has on you.”

I flicked a tear from my cheek. “Thanks. I needed to hear that. I’ll be done in a minute, then I’ll meet you outside.” I patted my husband’s arm before continuing toward the attic.

I ascended a narrow staircase to find cobwebs lining the walls, fluttering in a drafty breeze. A small table sat in the corner, teetering on a broken leg. It needs to go out with the other junk. Lifting the tiny table, I shuffled along the wood-planked flooring, when a nail caught the bottom of my shoe, plunging me down the stairs. I landed on the floor, taking a hard knock to the back of my head. My vision blurred for a moment as I attempted to sit up, before collapsing on my back.

***

I picked myself up off the dusty wood floor, brushing the rear of my pants. Holding my head in my hands, I felt as if I were floating. Adjusting my eyesight, I spied a box sitting along the back wall. I approached it cautiously, as if it were a predator about to strike. My palms formed beads of sweat. I ran my hands along my blue jeans, then sifted through the contents to find a syringe and a glass bottle. Popping the cork, I scrunched up my nose, noticing it emitted a sweet odor. Spying a metal canister buried at the bottom, I pried the rusty latch and opened the creaky can to find a letter inside. I peeled it open slowly, half afraid I would tear the fragile pages. Inside was a document with my name listed along with my brother’s and mother’s—our lives went for a hefty sum. The signature on the bottom read, Cornelius Brown. It wasn’t particularly unusual, since my father was a lawyer and handled all of our legal affairs. Printed across the top of the paper was Larry Walderling Law Firm. He and my father were close colleagues, but why his law firm and not my father’s? Perhaps Larry knew something about all this. I would look him up and see what I could find out.

***

Larry’s law firm was closed down and, by the looks of the building, for some time. I jimmied the door, shining my flashlight inside the dusty ruins. I clenched my light between white knuckles, straining my eyes to see inside the pitch-black room. Spying a metal file cabinet leaning against the wall, I began my search there. I yanked open the top drawer to find nothing but an outdated recorder inside. Placing the dirty device on a nearby stool, I took a chance and pressed play.

What would they say if they knew of my involvement?

Just do as I say, and we’ll have enough money to cover our debts.

It’ll ruin my reputation!

You can start over.

What about you?

I plan to take up residence in the Caymans with Brenda.

Brenda Hammond? The Librarian?

Oh, come on, don’t act like you’ve never been unfaithful to Colleen. You wouldn’t want her to find out. Would you?

You’re a goddamn bully, Cornelius! (Sigh) What would you have me do?

Just be ready to dispose of the body. The lake behind the manor will suffice. Danny loves to play out there. It’s the perfect cover. He’s been sick a while, and Mary will follow soon after.

Why not just let the authorities handle it?

No! It has to be done this way.

I don’t know Cornelius—

Look, Larry, we’ve been friends since high school, and you’ve always bailed me out.

Because you harass me until I do—like now.

So, will you do it?

I don’t understand any of this, Cornelius. Your family has obviously been suffering from…something. Why not just let the medical folks do their jobs?

They’ll never figure it out. Besides, I need the money. With Danny’s sickness, it’ll look like he stumbled in the lake or something. No harm done.

This is your son, Cornelius! You act like it’s no big deal.

My family has been nothing but a burden. Help me out, Larry. I need you with me.

But why?

It’ll look shady if my office writes up the policy. I’ll pay you handsomely. What do you say… Larry?

The recorder shut off as water rose in my eyes like the ocean’s tide. My mind raced as reality hit me like a tidal wave: Syringe. Medicine bottle. Life Insurance.

That night of Danny’s disappearance became as clear in my mind as a movie on a screen. My head pulsated with the thuds of heavy footfalls. Lightning flashed across my memories, highlighting an elongated shadow at the opposite end of the hallway. Danny’s symptoms seemed sudden and unexplained, as did mine. The sweet taste of jello made my mouth pucker as I recalled the dessert jiggling back and forth while my father carried it on a silver tray. “You need to eat something,” I heard my father’s voice echo. “Please, eat a little. It will help soothe your stomach.”

My face flushed hotly. I grasped my temples inside my sweaty palms, trying desperately to keep my head from reeling. The sound of an evil cackling filled my mind like a ringing bell. What have you done, Father? Tell me!

***

“Daniella!”

“Wha—What happened?” I mumbled, looking up at my husband’s wrinkled forehead.

“I found you at the bottom of the stairs, just standing here. Jesus, you’re sweating as if you’ve just been for a run. Are you alright?”

“I—I don’t know. My head hurts,” I replied, rubbing the back of my head.

“We’d better get you to the hospital.”

“I’ll be alright,” I responded, teetering back and forth.

“I’m not taking any chances, especially with your dissociative amnesia. I almost lost you last time. You can’t imagine my terror when I found you standing on the edge of that cliff. Please, just get checked out. For me.”

I nodded reluctantly as my husband escorted me to our car.

***

“You’ll be alright, Mrs. Cartwright. There’s a slight contusion at the base of your skull, but nothing too alarming. Some rest is all you need.”

“Can she go home?” my husband asked.

“Yes, as long as she stays in bed for at least twenty-four hours, and you monitor her closely.”

“Sure thing, doc.”

I squinted my eyes, staring into the blinding hospital lights overhead. “Tom, I want to stop by the nursing home and see Dad before we leave.”

My husband’s eyes widened. “You haven’t visited him in years.”

“Something feels different this time—closing on the house and all.”

“Are you sure?”

“I feel like I need to do this. I just hope old man Cornelius wants to see me.”

“Did you say, Cornelius? As in Cornelius Brown?” The doctor asked, looking up from his paperwork.

“Yes,” I responded in a raised tone.

“I hate to inform you, but he passed away last night. Who is he to you, might I ask?”

“My father,” I replied, my voice cracking.

“Daniella? I wouldn’t have recognized you had you not said anything. It must’ve been twenty years since I last saw you. I’m sorry to spring the news on you this way, but I’m surprised no one told you before now.”

“I hadn’t spoken to my father in some time,” I muttered. “Do you know what happened?”

“I don't know all the details.”

I shook my head, unable to grasp what I’d just heard, and yet, a feeling of relief swelled in my chest as if a boulder had fallen from my shoulders.

“My condolences. If there’s anything you need—” The doctor clutched his clipboard to his chest before turning to leave the room.

“Are you okay?” My husband asked.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” I said, looking down at my hands. I took a deep breath, exhaling a satisfying puff of air, as if the world felt lighter. “Well, I guess I should see to his final arrangements.”

“I’ll help you take care of everything,” my husband said, helping me down from the exam table.

***

The cherry trees were in full bloom as they laid my father to rest. My mind was in another world as the funeral goers wished me their condolences. There were no tears, only regrets.

“Are you alright?” My husband rubbed my shoulder.

“Yeah. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Mrs. Cartwright?”

“Yes?”

“Hello, I’m Julia Fielding, the lawyer handling your father’s estate. I’m sorry to bother you today, of all days, but I wanted to catch you before you leave town. Could we speak in private?” She motioned toward a nearby gazebo.

“Sure.” I snapped my eyes toward my husband before following the lawyer.

“I appreciate your meeting with me under these circumstances,” she said, opening her briefcase and shuffling a stack of papers.

I shifted on the wooden bench beneath me, like a child waiting outside the principal’s office.

“I want to discuss your father’s estate.” Julia cleared her throat, tapping the pointed heel of her shoe on the pavement.

“I spoke with your secretary, and he assured me your office had handled everything.”

“There are some recent developments that I need to go over with you. For starters, your father’s debts,” Julia said, chuckling.

My face contorted like I’d just sucked on a lemon.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, well, I find it ironic that your father chased wealth his whole life only to have a stroke take away his ability to enjoy any of it. Then committing suicide—”

“Suicide?” I gasped.

“Looks that way. I found a life insurance policy on you and your family, as well as a bottle of antifreeze and taped confession by his bed. He enlisted Larry Walderling to help him get rid of Danny’s body. Being outed must’ve sent him over the edge.”

My eyes darted wildly as her words hit me like a bolt of lightning.

“I knew he was a greedy son of a bitch, but I never thought it would drive him to murder,” Julia continued.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” I said, wiping my tear-stained cheeks.

“You can imagine my surprise, walking in and finding him laying there wide-eyed and mouth gaped open. Can’t say I miss the bastard. Working for that evil man nearly drove me insane.”

I swallowed hard as Julia rambled on about my father’s corrupt business dealings, though somehow, his behavior didn’t surprise me.

“Good thing Larry taped your father’s admissions. Why, we’ll never know. Larry started drinking soon after. Probably what killed him.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” I stammered.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Shame Cornelius never faced prosecution while he was alive.” Julia scratched her chin. “One thing about this entire ordeal struck me as odd, though—”

“What’s that?”

“I found him clutching a pen in his hand and a note with one word scribbled across the top.”

I stared, unflinching, at the lawyer’s piercing brown eyes. “What word was that?”

She paused, scanning the area before leaning in close to me, then whispered, “Daniella.”