Chapter 24

Ella had seen Alan arrive from her upstairs window. She knew she should eventually join her family but wasn't ready to leave the safety of her private room just yet. She needed to sort out her feelings away from everyone else, who processed emotions much… louder than she did. Then again, they were louder than her in every way.

Even Rachelle couldn't comfort her, so Ella pretended to fall asleep just to make her sister leave her alone with her thoughts. She perched herself on the windowsill and by morning, she was still there.

That's how Ella happened to be in the perfect spot to see Alan pulling up to the cottage. Deciding she wasn't ready for the hectic scene downstairs that was the rest of the Grier's (not even for Alan), she stayed put.

So when Alan came running after a visibly distraught Mrs. Rosewood, Ella was still at the window watching. At first, she didn't pay much attention. They were both wildly flailing their arms, clearly angry and upset. Just another argument.

But then Mrs. Rosewood swung at him as if to slap him, and Alan caught her wrist. He pulled her into an embrace, and Ella leaned closer to the window, frowning. Mrs. Rosewood collapsed into Alan's arms, sobbing so uncontrollably that her face became almost unrecognizable. And then—Ella had thought she must be mistaken—Alan started stroking her hair.

The sheer oddness of this scene nearly scared Ella. She knew she should focus on more pressing issues than Hunter's parents, but it was almost a relief to have a distraction from her own worries and confusion.

A knock sounded on her door. She tore her eyes from the window and hoped whoever it was would go away.

It was Nolan. "Ella?" he asked cautiously. "Can I come in?"

Ella nodded, then realized he couldn't see her gesture. Feeling a bit foolish, she jumped down from the windowsill to open the door for him.

"Hey kiddo," Nolan said once inside. "You holding up okay in here?"

"Yes," she replied, then faltered. "No? I don't know."

Nolan pulled out a chair from the white wooden desk at the foot of the bed and sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "That makes two of us."

Ella voiced something that had been troubling her all night—something she was too afraid to ask any family members: "Am I not upset enough? It's not that I'm not worried; I am. It's just that I feel like… I should hurt more than I do." She'd cried once when she'd first heard the news but hadn't since.

Nolan looked surprised. "Why would you think that?"

Ella shrugged, uncertain. She didn't feel okay; in fact, she felt nothing at all. Numbness encompassed her.

"Just watching Mrs. Rosewood and everyone else," she replied.

Nolan gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Grieving is different for everyone. Don't compare your reaction to others'. You're a private person, and that doesn't mean you're not grieving enough. Your way of responding is what's right for you."

Ella knew Nolan was right, as he always was, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that she wasn't sad enough. It didn't feel like she was experiencing something traumatic, though intellectually she knew she was. If this was trauma, it didn't seem so terrible. Arguing with Nolan Moorehouse on this was pointless—she wouldn't win and deep down she knew he was right. So, she merely nodded.

Nolan seemed unsatisfied with her response, but he too needed some encouragement for himself and wasn't in the state to continue his pep talk.

"Want to come downstairs with me?" Nolan asked gently. "Spending time with your family might help."

Ella doubted it would help at all. What she really wanted was to play the piano to clear her mind. Hunter would understand; Hunter related to Ella on many levels. Her family never truly grasped how much solace music brought her, but arguing with Nolan about it seemed exhausting, so she agreed to head back to the cottage kitchen's turbulent environment.

Upon returning, she couldn't decide if she'd made the right choice. She was instantly surrounded by attention. Her father hugged her—a gesture that would have been comforting if it hadn't felt so suffocating.

"How are you, sweetheart?" he asked with concern. "I'm worried about you too, you know."

"I'm okay."

"Good."

Ella pulled away from him, feeling that being enveloped in a hug only heightened her sense of despair and discomfort.

"I'm sorry I didn't come up last night," Mr. Grier offered apologetically. "That wasn't very considerate of me, was it?"

For Ella, being left alone the previous night wasn't an issue among everything that had gone wrong. She wished people would stop treating her as if she didn't understand what was happening around her. She did understand; the situation wasn't complex—just hard to process fully—and likely not only for her. She grasped the gravity of their circumstances perfectly well. If only everyone would stop acting like they had to protect her from reality; maybe then she wouldn't feel so guilty about her apparent emotional detachment.

Rachelle gave Ella a worried look; Ella responded with a faint smile before sitting down at the table where everyone continued to silently observe her. Already, she wanted to retreat back into the solitude of her room.

When she finally spoke, she shared something she knew wouldn't truly convey her grasp of the situation. "I'm staying in the same room as last time." She swung her legs back and forth to ease her discomfort. "It hasn't changed at all."

Rachelle clung to this light, easy topic like a lifeline. "I'm surprised you remember that. You were so young."

"And the secret passage closet is still there?" asked Celine with matching enthusiasm. When Ella nodded, Celine added, "And still perfect for spying?"

Ella thought the only people at Rosedale worth spying on right now were Hunter's parents (their earlier interaction was still deeply puzzling her), but she didn't expect either of them to sleep in the adjoining room.

As if on cue, Alan and Mrs. Rosewood re-entered. Ella found their behavior baffling once more, but in a different way. Mrs. Rosewood leaned heavily on Alan, barely able to stand. His face was rigid and pale. Mrs. Rosewood's phone was in her hand, which she tossed onto the table, revealing its screen illuminated with the words "unknown caller."

"It's the third time he's called," Alan said gruffly. Mrs. Rosewood released him and sat down at the table, only to stand up moments later, fidgeting uncontrollably. "We think it's Derick."

No one had explicitly told Ella that Derick was the main suspect, but she knew. She had heard Mrs. Rosewood screaming about it half the night. She tried to block out the noise by burying her head under her pillow, but nothing had worked.

They hadn't answered the call quickly enough; it ended abruptly. Everyone stared intently at the phone as if willing it to reveal more answers. Celine moved closer as if trying to get a better look, though Ella wasn't sure what her sister hoped to see.

The phone lit up again with a fourth call, making everyone jump.

"Answer it!" Mr. Grier said urgently. "For Christ's sake, pick it up!"

Mrs. Rosewood reached out with a trembling arm.

"No," said Nolan quietly but with authority. "I'll answer it." He stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning against and extended his hand.

Mrs. Rosewood was so shocked she looked almost affronted. "I beg your—"

"He wants to talk to you," Nolan said impatiently. "Don't give him that."

Mrs. Rosewood didn't appreciate being told what to do by someone like Nolan Moorehouse. "I don't even know who you are or why you're still here! You don't have the right—"

Nolan interrupted, undeterred by her tone. "Not trying to be rude, but we can get acquainted later; I don't have time to explain my plan."

"Is that supposed to make me trust you?"

"You should," said Alan. "I think he's right."

Mrs. Rosewood stared at Alan, then dropped her phone into Nolan's open palm. Instantly he transformed into the bossy, but natural born leader Ella had always known him to be.

"Mr. Pen, Marissa, one of you should call the detectives. Celine, give me your phone. And please, no one say anything."

While Marissa called Detective Cheng and told her to come as quickly as she could, Nolan set Celine's phone next to Mrs. Rosewood's on the table and opened Voice Memos to record. With a final, sweeping glance around the room he accepted the call, putting it on speaker so they could all hear. "This is Lieutenant Nolan Moorehouse. To whom am I speaking?"

There was a short pause, then Derick's unmistakable, drawling voice came through the speaker and reverberated off the walls. "You know that already, don't you?"

Ella had been prepared for Derick to be on the other line, but she hadn't been prepared for the sinking cold she felt upon hearing their suspicions confirmed. It was like being dunked into an ice bath – no. It was like being dunked into an ice bath after drifting off in front of the fireplace, fully asleep. She shuddered against the freezing shock.

Mrs. Rosewood responded similarly. Her jaw dropped open and she raised her hand as if to cover her mouth, but it only hovered over her bottom lip before it dropped again.

"Mr. Staples," said Nolan calmly. "I had a feeling you might be calling soon."

"I want to talk to Barbara."

"She's not here. You may talk to me."

"I don't believe you."

"Why's that?" Nolan sounded politely offended. "I've given you no reason not to trust me."

"I don't trust cops," was Derick's curt reply.

Ella was confused, before she realized Nolan had introduced himself as he had for a reason. Nolan didn't clarify that he was an Army lieutenant, not with law enforcement. He wanted Derick to think the police were already with them.

"Mrs. Rosewood is busy at the moment. There's a lot going on around here. I think you probably know something about that."

"Do I?" Derick said, his words dripping sarcasm.

"What have you done with Hunter and Juliette?"

"I've done a lot of things, you'll have to be specific."

Ella's stomach lurched.

Nolan shot a sharp look at both sets of parents, warning them not to speak. He steadied his voice and braced himself against the table, leaning over the phone. "Are they alive?"

"For now."

Ella felt a storm of relief and fear, knowing they were still alive but not safe. These conflicting emotions left her in a familiar state of anxiety.

Nolan closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose to stay calm. It worked. "How about we make a deal? Show me proof they're alive, and I'll help you find your wife so you can talk."

Ella glanced at Mrs. Rosewood, who was trembling like she was standing outside in the dead of winter without a coat. She looked ready to speak, but Nolan waved a stern finger to silence her. She snapped her mouth shut.

Derick sounded amused. "Learning to negotiate, Lieutenant? Alright. Deal."

Ella sensed something was off before anything happened. Derick seemed too self-satisfied. She heard clattering chains and heavy metal scraping against the ground.

Then Derick commanded, "Move."

Juliette's voice came through, shaky but defiant. "Not if you're going to hit him."

Hunter's response was faint and barely caught by Derick's phone. "Don't bother," he told Juliette.

It was clear he was injured. At the sound of his voice, Mrs. Rosewood dropped to her knees in silent despair before quickly standing again.

Derick ordered Juliette to move again. Nolan interrupted; now he sounded disappointed. "Mr. Staples? That's not what I meant. Let me talk to them."

Silence.

"Let me talk to them or the deal is off," Nolan demanded firmly.

"You can talk to her only."

"Alright, I'll accept that," said Nolan solemnly. Then Juliette came on the line.

"Juliette!" Nolan exclaimed with almost too much excitement, catching himself and sounding neutral again. "This is...um...Lieutenant Moorehouse. We're doing our best to find you both. Are you hurt?"

Ella held her breath.

"I'm okay."

"And Hunter?" Nolan asked.

"He's…" Juliette hesitated. "It's not life-threatening."