Rachel, Craig and Sadie spent an entire afternoon at the cabin, and no one seemed to know anyone was there, or if they did, they didn't care.
She spent the time sifting through possessions, looking for something of her mother's that she could take with her as a memento. For the first few years after she ran away, Rachel had felt guilty that it was because of her that her mother was murdered. If Rachel hadn't told her mother what her father was doing, maybe things would have been different. But now, as an adult, she realized that it wasn't her fault. Everything that happened was on her father.
He was the monster.
He killed her sister and mother.
At least now he was dead.
At the bottom of one drawer in an old desk in the back bedroom, Rachel finally found what she was looking for -- an embroidered picture that her mother had done with the words Home Sweet Home and a lovely red brick house with a white picket fence and trees surrounding it. Rachel's mother had few pleasures in her life because of the heavy workload required of her, doing everything without the benefit of electric appliances. Embroidery was her one escape.
"This is what I came for," Rachel said and showed Craig the picture. The frame was worn and the glass covering the picture was dusty, but it was intact. Craig took it and smiled.
"You did this?"
She shook her head. "My mother. I always wanted a house like that," she said wistfully. "Red brick with a white picket fence and trees."
He sat beside her on the sofa and put his arm around her shoulder. "We'll find one just like that."
She smiled. "Maybe. As long as we're together, I don't care."
After they finished searching through the house for other treasures, they went outside to the back yard. Her mother kept a large garden, and grew fresh vegetables for the family. Rachel walked around the yard, remembering the time she spent outside with her mother, tending the garden while her father was out doing whatever it was he did in town -- processed pornography that he took at night, she imagined.
Rachel wondered what he did to her mother -- he killed her that very night Rachel told her mother about what he was doing to her. What he had done to Sadie, her sister.
Rachel had heard them shouting and then nothing. When she woke in the morning, her mother was gone. Her clothes were missing, and so was a suitcase.
When Rachel asked, her father said her mother was gone and was never coming back.
"Now, it's you and me," he'd said in a gloating voice. "You and me."
He'd killed Rachel's sister.
He'd killed her mother, too.
That time was a big blur in her memory, because with her mother gone, Rachel's father was free to do whatever he wanted when he wanted. Rachel lost all personal boundaries and sense of self. He began taking her to town to this warehouse where several men dressed in black robes did things to her and filmed it.
One day, her mother was gone, and Rachel's life changed. Everything was worse.
Rachel told Craig what happened while Sadie was out of earshot. She didn't want Sadie to know any more than she had to about her past.
"I bet he buried her in the yard," Rachel said. "What do you want to bet? Probably over there, by the shed."
She picked up a shovel and began to dig next to the shed. The ground was soft, a mixture of pine needles and fallen leaves, mixed in with soil. She dug for a few moments, but of course turned up nothing.
"It could be anywhere," she said and shrugged. Then she went into the shed itself, which was unlocked. For her entire childhood, that had been his personal space and neither the girls nor her mother were allowed inside. Her father kept the shed locked and only he had a key. Inside was a motorcycle, some spare tires and tools. There was also a large compost container, gardening tools and old barrels. The composter was a huge container made from lattice and lumber, and was filled with dirt, leaves and rotting food sitting in the corner of the shed. It was an old rain barrel that had been converted into a composter, like the one beside the house that collected the ample rainwater that fell in the Pacific Northwest. Curious, she went to the barrel and lifted off the wooden lid. Inside, the barrel was filled with leaves. She frowned. Why would he keep a composter in the shed? She pushed the leaves aside with the trowel beside the barrel.
The tip struck on something hard. She dug down to uncover whatever it was and saw something that shocked her.
Concrete.
A jolt of adrenaline went through her body.
Why would her father have an old rain barrel filled with concrete in the composter?
Then, she remembered seeing her father mixing cement the day her mother went missing. She hadn't thought anything about it at the time, because he was always doing projects, and often mixed cement. He had a number of old rain barrels around the property.
Her mind put two and two together.
"Craig," she said and stepped back, dropping the trowel to the floor.
"What?" he asked and came to her side. "What is it?"
"The barrel," she said and swallowed hard. "It's filled with concrete."
Craig made a face of confusion. Of course, his mind wouldn't go there immediately.
"Why would he fill a barrel with..."
Then, it was like a light turned on and he knew what Rachel was suggesting.
"God, do you think?" he said, and he didn't need to say anything more. Rachel knew exactly what he meant.
Did she think her mother's body was inside the composter?
She did.
"We should leave," Rachel said. "Let's get out of here."
"What about the barrel?" he asked as he followed her out of the shed.
"I'll call Michael tomorrow," she replied and found Sadie, who was in the bedroom, sorting through a box of toys they found in a closet. "Come on, sweetie," she said and grabbed the box of toys. "You can keep them all if you want. Let's go."
Sadie didn't argue.
They drove to Bellingham and found a nice motel near the woods with a vacancy. Craig registered for their room while Rachel and Sadie waited in the car. When he returned, they went to their room and got settled in.
"Now what?" Craig asked. "Do you want to order in or go out for food?"
"Let's go out," Sadie said. "I want a hot hamburger sandwich."
"And fries?" Craig said with a laugh.
"With fries. And apple pie for dessert."
"You are so spoiled," Craig said and rubbed Sadie's head. "I love spoiling you."
Rachel smiled briefly, glad that Craig was finding ways to say he loved Sadie without saying it outright. He wasn't demonstrative like that, but he did show his love in the things he did without question.
They drove to a truck stop outside of Bellingham they saw on the way into the city. Before they went inside, Rachel stopped Craig. "You two go in. I'm going to call Michael. I have to get this off my chest and out of my head before I'll be able to relax."
"Okay," Craig said and scooted Sadie ahead, his hands on her shoulders. "Can we order you a hot hamburger sandwich?"
"And fries?" Sadie added, smiling.
"Yes," Rachel replied, waving them off, not wanting to appear as upset as she was. "I'll be there in five minutes."
She watched them enter the truck stop restaurant and find a window seat. On her part, Rachel remained in the car and removed her cell phone. She dialed Michael's number and took in a deep breath.
"Hello," she said when he answered. "It's me."
"Hey, Rachel. I'm so glad you called. We were worried about you. I thought we had everything settled and that the five of us would drive up to Missoula together. What happened?"
Rachel hesitated. "I got cold feet, Michael. We decided to run, but first, we got married in Salt Lake City so if anything happened to me, Craig would be Sadie's guardian."
"What would happen to you?"
"You know, in case the DA wanted to put me in jail or something. Because I left the scene of a crime. Because I ran away."
"That wouldn't have happened. We completely understand why you ran, Rachel. You and Sadie are safe now and can come home."
She sighed. "Anyway, we decided we want to come back."
"Oh, that's good, Rachel. That's best for you. You have a life here. We can make sure you're protected until the court cases are all cleared up."
"I know," she said. "There's something I wanted to tell you. On the way home, we stopped off at my father's cabin to look for mementos I could keep to remember my mother and sister. I wonder if police checked the buildings. There's a shed near the woodpile. Inside is a compost bin, but if you check through it, there's a huge chunk of concrete in the middle, underneath the compost. I don't know for sure, but I think my mother's buried there."
"Oh, that's interesting," Michael said, and he was clearly shocked, but trying to sound calm. "I didn't see any report of a piece of concrete in the composter. Let me check my files."
While Rachel waited, she heard Michael flipping through papers.
"Here's the report. I remember reading a report about police checking that shed. There were all kinds of gardening tools inside and the composter, bags of soil so it didn't look suspicious at all. I don’t think they checked the contents of the composter.”
"It was a hunch of mine. I remembered my father had a number of rain barrels on the property and of course, he had cement and had laid down a floor for the garage he built and one for the shed, so he definitely had cement. I remember him mixing cement around the time my mother left, but I didn't think anything of it at the time. When I saw the composter, I remembered him doing that and I wondered if he'd killed her and put her in cement, then hid the cement."
"Of course, you wouldn't have been suspicious at the time," Michael said. "Why would you? You'd seen your father mixing cement for other projects." There was a pause. "I'll drive out there tomorrow and check it out. I'll let the forensic team know and maybe we'll be able to clear up what's inside, one way or another."
"I always wanted to believe that she ran away, like I did, but knowing what my father was like, I always knew somewhere inside that he killed her. Like he killed my sister, Sadie."
"I'm sorry," Michael said. "If you want, I can call Nick and arrange for you to come down to his office to give your statement."
"Will you be there?" she asked, not wanting to go unless Michael was there. "I'd rather you be there when I go."
"Sure," Michael said. "I'll make an appointment for the day after tomorrow and I'll be there with you, okay?"
"Thanks," Rachel said, sighing with relief. "I appreciate it."
"You're doing the right thing, Rachel."
"I hope so," she said.
She did hope so, but was afraid she was making a big mistake.
After she ended the call, Rachel left the car and went to the diner, pasting on a smile she didn't feel so she didn't ruin the fun.