HauntingAdie {1}

C42

The Manipulator

“Are you surprised?" I ask through the phone, twirling the red rose between my
fingers. I woke up to Zade gone, and a rose in his place.
My mother sighs. "No, I’m not. It explains a lot about your Nana and her
strange attachment to the house."
I'm curled up on the couch watching the news channel, a sense of pride filling
my veins as the words Breaking News and Seventy-Five-Year-Old Cold Case
Solved.
Daya and I reported our findings to the police early this morning. They spent
hours and hours going over our evidence. Still, after verifying the serial number
and DNA test results were authentic, they declared Frank Seinburg the man that
murdered Genevieve Parsons in cold blood. His motive—unrequited love.
They confiscated the diaries for now, but I made them pinky swear they would
give it back. The police officer looked at me like I was unhinged when I
physically made him pinky swear. But it made me feel better about parting with
the diaries, even if it is temporary.
The news reporter on the screen speaks of the victim's great-granddaughter
stumbling across hidden diaries in the wall and how it led to the discovery of her
murder and who did it. I glance over at the window, an array of flashing lights
blaring through the glass.
The news reporters are standing outside my house. They wanted to get Parsons
Manor in the background. What would a creepy story be without an old Victorian
house looming behind a pretty blonde woman with red lipstick on her teeth?
"She must've felt so much guilt all her life," I say quietly, the spike of sadness
lingering since the realization that Nana helped cover up the murder.
Surprisingly, Mom doesn't have a snarky reply. "I imagine so, Adeline. That's a
heavy weight to carry, especially because she was only sixteen years old when it
happened. She was probably very traumatized."
I frown harder. "It amazes me that she was always so happy."
"Sometimes the happiest people are the saddest," she says, reciting a common
quote.

"Then what are the miserable people in the world?"
"Tired."
"Sounds miserable."
She huffs out a dry laugh. "I have a showing soon. I have to go. I'll see you in a
couple of weeks for Thanksgiving."
“Hey, Mom? I have one last question,” I rush out, the words bursting out of
me. Something has been bothering me about this case, and the pressing need to
ask is unbearable.
She sighs but stays on the line, silently urging me on.
“Did you happen to send me a black envelope full of pictures and a note?”
She’s silent, and my heart thumps in my chest. “Mom?” I prompt.
She clears her throat. “I guess your Nana and I are more alike than you
thought.”
My eyes widen as realization dawns, hitting me directly in the chest. She did
send me the envelope. Which means she knew all along about Gigi’s murder and
Nana’s role in it.
Un-fucking-believable.
“You kept her secret,” I whisper.
“I have to go now, Addie. I have a house showing in five minutes.”
“Okay,” I murmur, but the line has already gone dead.
There’s no way of knowing when exactly Mom found out about Nana covering
up the murder—I doubt she’ll ever tell me—but I imagine it was sometime before
I was born, considering I have no memories of those two ever getting along.
Mom’s bitterness and dislike for Nana suddenly make more sense.
Nana covered up her mother’s murder, and in return, her daughter covered up
her involvement.
My brain gets clogged with all that information, and the utter shock that my
mother also played a hand in covering up Gigi’s murder. It’s too much.
I turn and stare out at the window as my thoughts turn to Zade. Really, they
never left. He's been sitting in the back of my brain all day, weighing down on my
shoulders.
Is he safe? Alive?
When did I start worrying about his safety?
I need my head checked. But I will never make the initiative to do so. In a
roundabout way, I'm starting to accept my new reality.
I'm falling in love with my stalker. The shadow that haunts me in the night. The
man that hunts me down and completely wrecks my entire world.
And not only do I have to come to terms with that, but the fact that my life will
now be consumed with worry. He's dangerous, but the situations he puts himself
in are just as terrifying. One day, he could go out and never come back home.