Sisters of Misery (22 page)

The note inside was drastically different from the stark black letters on the envelope. It was written in purple ink, and the handwriting was delicate—all swirls and loops, as if written by a teenage girl. Her hands trembled as she read the words over and over again.
Love and butterflies.
That was how Cordelia signed all of her cards and letters. Who else would have known that? Maddie edged over to the hallway bench and collapsed onto its wooden frame.

Maddie was humming to herself as she did the dishes later that night. She’d decided to focus on the fun she’d had earlier in the day and not on the threatening note she’d received. Her cheeks felt hot and flushed, and her stomach was tied in knots, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her growing feelings toward Reed or the fact that her face was simply a bit wind-burned from her afternoon at Salem Willows. In any case, Abigail noticed and wasn’t pleased.

“You know, you can run all over town with that boy, and it just makes people talk more,” Abigail fumed.

“I’m not running all over town,” Maddie insisted. “Plus, people can talk all they want. I don’t care.”

“Cordelia didn’t care either, and you see what happened to her.”

Maddie slammed a pan in the sink. “No, I don’t
see
what happened to her. I don’t think
anyone
knows what happened to her. But it does seem like I’m the only one who cares anymore. It seems like I’m the only one that doesn’t think she just ran away.”

“Well, if you do think something happened to her, why are you spending time with the one person that everyone thinks is responsible for her disappearance?” Abigail asked.

“Oh, please, Mom, Reed had nothing to do with it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Abigail asked.

The truth was that she wasn’t sure. Was it just a coincidence that he had shown up at the library that afternoon, pulling her away from her research? Keeping her occupied all afternoon so that she couldn’t do any additional digging on Cordelia’s disappearance? Maddie tried to keep her voice down, aware that Tess was in bed. Sleep was something that didn’t come easily for any of them these days. Maddie didn’t want to add any unnecessary tension, given Tess’s condition.

“What happened to all the candlelight vigils, Mom?” Maddie snapped, steering her mother away from a lecture about Reed Campbell. It was a sore subject, one that she could barely understand herself, so she didn’t want to try explaining it to her mother. “What happened to the strong community support that every reporter from here to Boston commented on? Who helped us pull our lives back together? No one seems to care that a member of our family disappeared into thin air. Cordelia’s been gone only a few months, and they act like she never even existed.”

“These are good people, Madeline Crane,” Abigail said quietly, resolved. “They may not be the best, but I can tell you that they are definitely not the worst. They did their best to find that girl. But some people just don’t want to be found. And I believe with all of my heart that Cordelia was one of them.”

Abigail motioned for Maddie to follow her into the living room. She paced over to her desk and retrieved a leather journal. “I found this in Cordelia’s room when I was boxing up their things. It was shoved up into the crawl space at the top of her closet.”

She paused as if contemplating how much she should tell Maddie. Then she continued, “It belongs to Cordelia. I decided that the right thing to do would be to take it down to the police and let them put it with the evidence in her file. Maybe it would have helped with her case, I wasn’t quite sure.”

Abigail moved over to the antique chaise lounge, and Maddie obediently followed, sitting across from her on the sofa. Overcome with curiosity, Maddie stared at the worn journal and then asked, “If you gave it to the police, why wouldn’t it still be in her file?”

“Well, I said that giving it to the police would have been the right thing to do. But it’s my house and I found it,” she said defiantly. “So I read it, the whole book, cover to cover.” She stared straight at Maddie, almost daring her to show disapproval. “I felt that if she had disappeared, this would give some clue as to what happened to her. And if she had just decided to take off on her own, well, she would have taken with her what she wanted to keep private.”

“What does it say?” Maddie was too concerned with what the journal said to be angry with Abigail at that point. She spoke evenly, hoping to restrain herself from tearing the book from her mother’s hands.

“Well, it seems that the rumors were true about your cousin. She was…having relations with some boy—or boys, for that matter. Anyway, in one of the last entries, she was worried about being pregnant. Didn’t say who the father might be, although with the number of nights she used to sneak out of here, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more than one contender.” Abigail shook her head in disgust and wrinkled her nose, her fair hands fluttering up to her neck. “And I wouldn’t be the
least
bit surprised if it was your new best friend there, Reed Campbell. Shame on him, taking up with a teenaged girl. And now that she’s run off, he’s taking up with you.”

Maddie wasn’t sure why she felt slighted by her mother’s insinuation that Reed was only spending time with her because Cordelia was out of the picture.

Abigail continued, “The journal never said whether or not she really was pregnant. I don’t even think she knew for sure. But I imagine that it was a good enough reason for her to run away, if that’s what did end up happening.”

Maddie let the weight of Abigail’s words sink in, trying to comprehend it all. Cordelia pregnant? How could that be? They told each other everything. Maddie wasn’t even aware that Cordelia had been seeing anyone. She thought about what Kate had said after her cousin’s disappearance, how Cordelia had slept with Trevor, Reed, and a number of others. Maybe even Finn. But Kate couldn’t be telling the truth, could she?

“I want to read it,” Maddie said firmly.

“I figured that you would. Not a word of this leaves this house, mind you. I don’t want to get in any trouble with the law for concealing evidence. I wasn’t even going to show you this, but I think you’ll see that there really isn’t any mystery in the first place. Cordelia wasn’t kidnapped or killed or anything like that. She was scared. A scared, stupid girl. She got herself in trouble, and she took off. Just like Rebecca did. She’s probably back in California right now, pregnant, living in a trailer park. I’d just let the whole thing go. Just leave this family and this town in peace.”

Maddie sat there bewildered, shaking her head.

Abigail handed the journal to Maddie. “So there you have it. Here, take it. I don’t ever want to see it again. Just don’t show it to the police. Or anyone else, for that matter. It’s none of their damn business.”

“Mother, you’re right. It’s not their business,” Maddie said staunchly. “It’s ours.”

ANCESTRAL PROPERTY AND AUTHORITY

M
addie was almost afraid to see Reed’s name mentioned in Cordelia’s journal. She didn’t want to know about his involvement with Cordelia, not only because of her growing feelings for him, but also because any mention could link him more securely to Cordelia’s disappearance. Despite all of her sleepless nights and questions, she just couldn’t bear to know that Reed was at all responsible.

But now she had a solid clue into what was going on with Cordelia prior to her disappearance. Maybe there was a name or a hint as to what happened. But if there were any leads, wouldn’t Abigail have mentioned them before now? Maddie also was desperate to compare the penmanship between the diary entries and the letters to see if Cordelia really was writing them. Maddie pulled the latest note from her pocket and carried it to her bedroom desk. Switching the desk light on and opening the top drawer, she smoothed the note along the worn grain of the oak desk and cracked open the journal. Mixed in among the scent of mildew was a slight hint of flowers and herbs. It was as though the pages of the journal not only possessed Cordelia’s thoughts, memories, and dreams, but also her essence. The curly, flowery script was startlingly similar to that of the second note she received, but Maddie couldn’t be absolutely certain that it came from the same hand.

Maddie set the threatening letter aside and skimmed through the pages of the journal crammed with Cordelia’s treasured moments and secret thoughts.

Somewhere in these pages lies the answer,
Maddie thought.

Maddie flipped to the entry written right after Cordelia started at Hawthorne Academy. Cordelia had obviously done her homework on the town’s infamous history. It was obvious that Cordelia wasn’t very happy with her new home.

Maddie flipped through a few pages of simple observations of the town. Daily recordings of getting the store ready, stories of Cordelia and Rebecca getting acquainted with the town. It wasn’t until Maddie flipped to the October entries that the writing became more telling.

Maddie lifted her eyes up from the pages filled with swirling letters and quick sketches of flowers and ivy vines. Sixteen-year-old Cordelia—pregnant! She just couldn’t believe it. Maddie collapsed onto her bed, completely exhausted and emotionally overwhelmed. Who was the “beautiful boy”? Was it someone Maddie knew? An image of Reed’s face floated into her mind, and she quickly pushed it away. But if not Reed, who? Trevor Campbell? Finnegan O’Malley?

How could anyone have hurt her so much if they knew she was pregnant? And the thought that Cordelia had to withstand all of that pain out on Misery Island while pregnant haunted Maddie to her core. Or…maybe that’s the reason why she was taken, so that no one would ever know the truth. The truth that Maddie had right in front of her, scrawled hastily among pink and purple flowers.

When she flipped through the rest of the journal, a torn piece of paper fell onto her lap. It looked like an e-mail or a hastily typed text message that had been printed out. The part that would have given the sender’s information was gone, but the cruel message was right there in bold letters.

It occurred to her, then, that maybe the person sending the notes knew that Cordelia kept this journal, the love letters, and now this threatening note, that it would only be a matter of time before he was exposed.

Considering this, Maddie flipped through the journal, desperately looking for a name, a clue, anything that would point to someone. But Cordelia had covered her tracks well—there was nothing. Maddie came across a passage scribbled on the last few pages of the journal. The writing appeared different from the large, balloonlike letters scrawled in assorted colored inks throughout most of the journal. These words, scratched haphazardly in black ink, seemed angry, forced, as if Cordelia had written them in a fury.

Scrunching up her forehead, Maddie stared down at the words.
What the hell does this mean?
Cordelia must have copied it down from a required reading for English class. But why would she change the name to Hawthorne in the passage? It sent a chill down her spine when she realized how fitting that excerpt was—it was as though Cordelia knew what was coming, what the Sisters of Misery had in store for her.

Maybe Cordelia had Tess’s gift of knowing what was coming next. Maddie reread the text, wondering if she was included in the group that Cordelia intended to avenge. The worst part was that Maddie felt like she deserved it.

Later that night in bed, Maddie felt as if her body was being sucked downward, sinking deep into the rusted coils and suffocating in the starchy foam. Maddie thought about Cordelia’s longing to be free. To just take off and leave everything—all the responsibility, all the guilt, all the questions—to just abandon it all and start fresh.

That’s what her father did when he took off, left them all behind. And maybe Cordelia really did follow through with the plans scribbled into her journal, escaping from her problems. Maybe Cordelia really
was
the only one responsible for her disappearance.

Maddie closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms against the sockets until she saw little fireflies of light. The pressure felt good against her throbbing temples.

It only occurred to her after she turned out the light, hanging in that limbo stage right before sleep, that one of the last entries in Cordelia’s diary—the one that told of her desire to disappear forever—was written on October 22. Maddie knew the significance of that date from living so close to Salem, Massachusetts. October 22, 1692 was when the last hanging of the Salem Witch Trials occurred. And all these years later, Cordelia was being persecuted in the very same way. She had written this passage in her journal exactly nine days before Halloween, the night that they had all gone out to Misery Island.

The next day, Sully reluctantly gave her access to the evidence storage room. She was now more convinced than ever that Cordelia had been raped and had continued to be tormented by her attacker. She wondered if her cousin had ever made a formal complaint and if it was one of those loose ends that made the police originally turn to Reed as a “person of interest.” She had wondered all along if there was a missing piece, and Maddie suddenly had a feeling of what it might be. Cordelia was pregnant—or at least thought she was—and perhaps her rapist wanted to keep her quiet. Or, at the very least, scare her out of town. Now all Maddie needed was some concrete evidence.

Maddie knew very little about operational procedures when it came to collecting and preserving evidence, but one look at the ramshackle storage facility and she understood why so many cases remained unsolved in small towns. There had obviously been a leak at some point in the decrepit storage room, and many of the corrugated cardboard boxes were water stained and moldy.

Maddie turned to him and asked, “So you guys are real high tech here. Good thing no one needs any DNA samples or evidence out of these disgusting boxes.”

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I know, Maddie. There’s nothing we can do. It’s all the tax cuts.”

Her thoughts flashed over to the fleet of new SUV police cruisers parked in front of the station. Maddie assumed that the police department had decided to use their minimal funds to improve their rides, as opposed to building up the aging police facility and dilapidated holding cells. Obviously, prisoners and unsolved case evidence storage took a backseat to allowing the Hawthorne police force to travel in style.

Maddie brought the box into an empty interrogation room, flicked on the fluorescent lights overhead, and began sifting through what little evidence there was on Cordelia’s case. The newspaper clippings were yellowing and stuck together from moisture. There were stacks of papers documenting testimonies and witness statements—all had been taken from sightings of Cordelia in the days and weeks before her disappearance. In the transcripts, Maddie finally found the break she was looking for: only one person was known to have seen Cordelia on the morning of November first. As Maddie ran her fingers over his name, she felt simultaneous shock and relief. It wasn’t Reed Campbell.