Page 21 of Finding English

Chapter 9

Cassie bit back the choking fear that threatened to close her throat. Holding tight to Henry’s hand under the table, she glanced up at the kind, professional expression on Cruz’s face then across at Henry. His warm, steady gaze was keeping her from falling under the weight of memories that clawed at her insides.

Henry nodded, his eyes holding a wealth of emotion she wasn’t even sure he was aware of. Taking a sip of the still warm and milky tea that Josie had made her, she took the second to gather her control, before setting the half-empty china cup down. “I remember getting home from gym practice. My friend’s mom gave me a ride as it was her turn that week. Her and my mom changed out each week. I walked in through the front door and dumped my bag in the hallway. I figured I’d take it through to the laundry later. I was hungry and wanted a snack. I was always hungry after practice.”

Cassie gave a tremulous smile as she looked up, seeing the anguish in Josie and Jerry’s faces. She was surprised when the woman reached across the scarred wooden table and covered her hand with her own. It was warm and comforting, the touch of a mother, and she found it gave her the courage she needed to carry on. “I called my mom’s name, and she didn’t answer, so I went into the kitchen. The first thing I noticed was my feet sliding on the wet floor. Then I saw the blood all over the cabinets. It was as if my mind couldn’t process what I was seeing for a split second, and then I saw my father’s body on the ground.” Cassie’s nose burned as the tears threatened, the vivid memory dragging her back to that horrific night.

“It’s okay, Cass. Take your time, we can all wait.” Henry rubbed a thumb over the skin on her hand.

The gesture anchored her to this moment, allowing Cassie to become a witness to the horror she spoke of as opposed to the victim. “My dad’s blood was everywhere, his eyes were open but I could tell straight away he was dead. I remember screaming and then pain in my legs that came from nowhere. I must have passed out because when I came too, the pain in my legs had me almost passing back out but then his voice was in my ear.”

It was a voice she’d never forget, the tone pitched high for a man and it had a lyrical quality that had chilled her young body to the core, her instinct recognizing him for what he was, even as her brain tried to catch up.

“He kept saying I was pretty, I felt him touching something wet to my face, but I couldn’t open my eyes. I knew when I did I’d be so afraid. But he got angry, said if I didn’t look at him he’d hurt my mom, so I opened them.”

The horror of what she’d seen had her vision swimming with tears even now as she remembered. Her mother splayed out in the middle of the lounge, the coffee table pushed aside. “Her ankles and wrists were tied with colorful scarves. I recognized them because I used to play with them, and they always smelled of her perfume. I liked to pretend I was her and wear her shoes too. Her eyes were open and her mouth had silver duct tape across it, but I saw the terror in her eyes. Even at that age, I sensed her fear. There was blood on her clothes, so much blood I could hardly see the white from her trousers and top. It was just a mix of rust and bright red blood.

“He didn’t like that I wasn’t looking at him, I was focused on my mother. I could see in her eyes she was begging me to be brave. He took my arm, placed it over the edge of an upturned kitchen chair and hit it with a baseball bat. I felt the bone break. The pain was so intense I gagged and was sick all over my favorite pink top. My legs were broken, I could tell from the angle, although at the time I don’t think I actively acknowledged it, the pain was the only thing on my mind.”

“Where was your father then?”

“Bunce had dragged his body into the living room and placed him in his favorite chair. He propped Dad’s legs and arms in such a way he could’ve been sleeping except for the blood.”

Cassie’s grief teetered as she remembered her last memory of her father fixing her broken bike wheel. His smile as he placed an arm around her and called her his shining star. She’d loved both her parents, but she’d always been a daddy’s girl.

“He broke my other arm for vomiting, and I passed out again. When I came to, I saw him standing beside my mother. He’d taken her clothes off, and she was spread-eagled on her back, tied again with the scarves. He’d draped the scarves over her bloody body. He saw me awake and motioned to me with the knife he held in his hands. He said ‘look, my pretty one is awake. Doesn’t she look so pretty bathed in your blood?’ and he smiled.

“I didn’t understand what he was talking about at first and then I realized I was covered in blood too. But none of it was mine. He’d painted me in my parents’ blood. I began to scream behind the tape he’d put on me after I threw up and passed out. Then he bent and slit my mother’s throat as the sirens began to blare.” Cassie’s cheeks were wet as the tears fell with the remembered pain, weakness invading her body, the memory of pain in her legs making them ache.

“He looked at me as if I’d betrayed him in some way, and then he bent forward and said, ‘Don’t worry, pretty, our time is not over. I will see you soon.’ Then he was gone through the kitchen door.”

“Then the police arrived?” Cruz noted.

“Yes, I’d dragged myself to my mother, even though my arms and legs were almost numb with pain. I hoped I could somehow stop the blood, but I was too late.”

“Did you receive counseling?” Calder glanced at her with kindness in his eyes, and Cassie also noted his hard expression and tight jaws.

Cassie nodded. “I did for years and it helped. I still go occasionally when the anniversary comes around. I have nightmares but other than that, I’ve tried to get on with my life.”

“You’re an amazing woman, Cassie.”

Henry’s voice sounded tortured as he said the words and she leaned into his body, wanting to comfort him. “I won’t let him get near, Michaela. I’ll die to protect my child from that evil man.”

“We all will, Cassie.” Henry rubbed her arm, holding her close to him, and as she sat safely in his arms, she glanced across at his parents who were nodding.

“Nobody messes with one of our own,” his father said with a grit of his jaw that reminded her of Henry.

Cassie acknowledged the kindness with a tip of her lips before she pulled away and looked up at the others. “What happens now?”

“Now we go hunting,” Henry said, and she saw the determination on his handsome face.

The room was so full of tension she could hardly breathe for it, but strangely, it gave her comfort. To know that evil had found her after so many years was akin to a nightmare but having these people with her while she did was her only saving grace. Calder, Cruz, and Dax excused themselves, and she knew they were giving her space.

Exhaustion hit her all at once. She tried to smother it, but she physically sagged from the weight of it. Henry noticed, his eyes meeting hers, barely hiding the anger beneath. His anger for her treatment at the hands of evil almost alive. She hadn’t wanted any of them to know about her and what she’d been through, never wanted it to change how they saw her. A fun-loving, capable mother who was good at her job. That was how she wanted to be known—not a victim of the Silk Scarf Killer.

“You need some rest. You’re exhausted,” Josie said as she moved to stand beside her.

Cassie looked up at the woman who had opened her home to strangers. “Thank you, Josie, this is so kind of you. I’ll make arrangements to get out of your hair tomorrow.”