Chapter Twenty-Three
As Drake stepped into Amelia's room, memories flooded back to him. The soft, worn shade of pink on her bedspread, the poster of Brad Pitt on her wall adorned with cherry red kiss marks, and the familiar mirror covered in pictures of her and her friends. He couldn't help but smile as he spotted a few photos of himself and his brother Kevin scattered among them. The room felt just like it did when they were teenagers, a place where secrets were shared and memories were made.
While Drake still hadn’t crossed the threshold into the room, Lydia walked further into the room. She wanted to examine every detail. She wanted to know exactly who Amelia was. She walked right up to the dresser and began to open each drawer. They were all filled to the brim, overflowing with graphic tees, jean shorts, and lacy undergarments. Lydia stomach sunk. If Amelia had left on her own why would all of her clothes still be here? She walked over to the closet, afraid of what she’d find. She took a deep breath before she opened the doors. There was a least twenty pairs of shoes, lined up neatly inside and the closet was filled with dresses for every occasion. Tucked into the corner, almost out of place in such a pristine closet, was a grungy looking suitcase, that had seen better days.
Lydia glanced over her shoulder to see if she could spot Drake. He was still standing by the door, paralyzed at the entrance. She walked further into the closet, silently shutting the door behind her. She quickly pulled the suitcase from the corner and opened it up.
A sense of relief washed over her as she opened the suitcase and found it empty. Perhaps this had been Amelia’s luggage before she moved in with the Alston’s. As Lydia zipped up the luggage, a single paper fluttered out. Snatching the paper up, Lydia glanced down and saw it was a receipt for a train ticket. The receipt was dated nearly a decade ago. She quickly shoved the receipt into her pocket, and left the closet.
Drake was now standing in the center of the room. His eyes glazed over. It looked like he was lost in a memory. “Why?” He asked. “Why is all her stuff still here?”
“Maybe she left in a hurry.” Lydia offered, “Or maybe she decided that since she was pregnant, she no longer needed the items from her childhood. Her clothes wouldn’t have fit her, and the other memories would’ve just taken up room.”
She walked across the room and wrapped her arms and Drake, offering him a comforting hug.
“No.” Drake replied, “It doesn’t make sense. Amelia would have never left these photos behind.” He grabbed a picture frame from the night stand and showed it to Lydia. It was a picture of a much younger Amelia, holding a small girl, who was almost the carbon copy of her. “This is a picture of Amelia holding her baby sister, Julia. Julia died a week after this photo was taken. It’s the only picture Amelia has of Julia. She would have never left it.”
Lydia's hands traveled up from Drake's waist to his upper back, where she started to knead and soothe his muscles with a gentle touch.
“It’s like she didn’t pack a single thing.” Drake yelled, frustrated as he yanked himself from Lydia’s arms, and began to rifle through all of Amelia’s drawers, before making his way to her closet and throwing all the items out of it.
“Drake! Stop.” Lydia shouted, trying to get his attention. “Stop destroying everything. If something did happen to Amelia, we don’t want anyone to know that we are investigating her disappearance (and possibly her murder too, Lydia thought to herself, not wanting to voice that opinion out loud yet).