Nefarious (4 Ch. Sample)

Chapter Two

The next morning Rylan grabbed the rest of the cleaning supplies her and Marlysa were going to need before heading to the house. When she had gotten back to the Inn last night Marlysa wasn't in their room, giving her time to gather herself after the run-ins she had, had at the grocery store. Thankfully, Marlysa never noticed the lack of cleaning supplies last night when she arrived at their room in an oddly good mood. Rylan wasn't about to question it. It was risking too much. If she questioned Marlysa then Marlysa could question her for no reason at all.

Rylan pulled up at the house. She wasn't surprised that Marlysa wasn't there. She hated being at this place alone and Rylan didn't blame her. She hated it too but knew she couldn't let that fear stop her. Not if she wanted this place presentable in a month so she could put it on the market. Rylan got out of her car and lugged her bags of cleaning supplies to the back door.

The day was going to be warm and sunny, a high in the sixties. A perfect day for being at the house. No, dark shadows lurking around her. Rylan got right to work cleaning. Scrubbing every inch of the kitchen to get it done and out of the way. It was getting close to lunch by the time she moved to the dining room off to the left of the kitchen.

Rylan paused in the entryway, her eyes on the huge dark wood table, surrounded by eight heavy wood chairs. The last meal she had, had with her family at this table filled her thoughts. It was her parents, Rydel, Tate, Anna and Marlysa. They were discussing the party for the next night. They were all so happy. Laughter from all of them. Even her mom seemed to be normal and not acting like she had to appear rich and refined like she always did. They were going over the details. When the decorators were going to show up and the catering company her parents had brought in from New York. It was the perfect night with family and friends.

Rylan walked over to the huge chair that sat at the end of the table, with the windows overlooking the water behind it. She lightly ran her fingertips over the top of it. It was the place her father sat. His chair. Her chest tightened a little as she pictured the many times he had sat there.

There was a memory there in the back of her mind from when she was a little girl; her dad helping her build a birdhouse out of popsicle sticks. A little girls laughter seemed to echo around her, mixed with the deep and hearty laughter of her dad. Her mom wouldn't let her keep it in the house. It didn't match her décor. Her dad built a stand and they put it down by the water. It had broken long ago. But there were pictures.

Rylan looked up. She was told most all the pictures were packed away in the attic. She had only been on the upper floors to open windows the day before. Except the windows in her old room and her parent's room. Was she going to be able to go in those rooms? Was she going to be able to sort through her sister's things? And go through her parent's room? Was she going to be able to do this at all? Her hands came to her mouth as she fought back tears. A sob escaped. The past six years had been so long and horrible. She had worked so hard to leave the past in the past. It didn't matter that didn't remember most details from that night. But being here was bringing up other memories. Memories she had fought not to think on over the years.

Rylan felt tears slide between her hand and face. She jerked her hand away, annoyed. She hadn't cried about her family in six years. Not since that first week after finding out the events of that night. She cried and cried until she was sick and never thought she would stop crying. Then one day, she woke up and the tears were gone. That was her first meeting with a therapist. There was no talking and no crying. Only an hour of silence. This would be the pattern for the most part for the next two years until she was eighteen and didn't have to attend anymore unless she wanted to. She didn't.

Now here she was crying over her family at the worst possible time. When she needs a clear and focused head to get the job done. Rylan banged her fist on the back of her dad's chair. The urge to curse was there. The words on the tip of her tongue. Being back in this house and remembering how both her parents were against such words seemed to put a clap over her mouth, not letting the words escape. That only annoyed Rylan even more.