Chapter 348 Psychopathy
ADRIANA
The coastal air hung heavy with salt and unspoken frustrations as we moved from house to house, Alisha's photograph clutched in my hand like a fragile hope. We'd learned early on that Alisha might not have been her real name, so we asked about her appearance, her mannerisms, anything that might spark recognition in someone's memory.
Hours stretched into an eternity of slammed doors and suspicious stares. The sun beat down mercilessly, turning the asphalt into shimmering waves that distorted our view of what little progress we were making.
"I'm about to lose it." Hazel kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I wasn't made for things like this. Why can't we get the guards to do it and then we'll come in when they've found something?"
I looked at her, really looked at her, and couldn't believe she was suggesting taking the easy way out. Not now, not when we were so close to something—anything.
"As easy as you want your life to be, we have to do field work." I straightened my back, forcing energy into my voice that I didn't feel. "It'll help us stay connected to the people. We can't just sit around and wait for the guards to do everything."
She almost ate my head. "We do more than the guards! I wonder if we are the guards sometimes!"
"Stop complaining and go knock on that door while I go to the other side."
As she walked away, I heard her mumbling something about being cursed. Elijah never made her work like this, and I'm sure she must have been feeling maltreated.
As I waited for the cars to pass so I could walk to the other side of the road, it occurred to me that if I didn't find anyone who was related to Alisha, I might have to ask Tobias if he knew anything. Or maybe Tim. But I doubted he would.
As I was about to cross the road, I heard Hazel call for me, her voice sharp with urgency. I turned to see her waving frantically, beckoning me over.
"What's going on?"
There was a young woman at the door, her features shadowed but somehow familiar.
"She says Alisha is her sister."
The only thing I couldn't do was scream in joy, but I'm sure my heart did it because I was so satisfied. I didn't know how much farther we would have to go just so that we would find her family.
"Are you sure you know her?" I approached cautiously, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You must understand that this isn't a joking matter. You could be in serious trouble if you're lying to me."
She didn't seem like a kid, more like her early twenties, so that statement didn't put fear into her, it just made her understand that this was a serious matter.
She stepped aside. "Please, come in."
It was a humble home, and it was very quiet. The house smelled and looked clean, though the furniture was sparse and worn.
"Who are you? Are you the police?"
I looked at Hazel, wondering if we should tell her who we were. I was sure we could do without it.
"We work with the police. Private investigators. We just have a few questions to ask you."
She excused herself to go into the kitchen and brought cups of tea with her. Before she even got close, I could already smell it.
The ginger. That couldn't be a coincidence.
"Please, have some tea. I'm listening to your questions."
I think I've had more than enough ginger tea for the week, so I didn't even bother to touch my cup.
"So you say that you are Alisha's sister. What's your name?"
She looked just as small as Alisha did. I guess that was a family thing. I didn't see any family pictures hung up on the wall, so I didn't know if I could conclude that it wasn't a happy family, after all.
"My name is Anita. Alisha is my older sister. She left home many years ago. I don't even remember what she looked like if not for that picture. What's wrong with her? Is there an issue?"
I'm guessing they hadn't heard of her death, which wouldn't be much of a surprise, seeing that she was estranged from her family. I didn't want to be the one to say anything about her death, at least, not now. Maybe at the end of our discussion.
"We would like to know about your sister. What can you tell us about her? What was she like growing up?"
I didn't want to ask her straight out what I wanted to know. I guess I could start with that.
I couldn't read the expression on her face.
"My sister was bright." Anita's voice softened, her gaze drifting to a distant memory. "I remember her always trying to bring me out of my shell. She was shy, sweet, and smart. The kind of child any parent would want. We had the best family, and we were so happy. Until our dad died."
Her fingers tightened around her teacup, the knuckles turning white.
"It wasn't easy on her, being the first kid, to take care of me. She was very close to him, so it hit her more. I was just a kid. Then my mother turned to alcohol. She drank and drank, and even when she wasn't drunk, she'd ask Alisha to go get it for her. I knew Alisha didn't want to say anything, but those men touched her. The men who sold the alcohol and drugs to her. One day, I followed her and I saw them. My mother didn't care even when I told her. Things were rough for my sister and me, but she took most of the heat."
I should have known. Psychopathy wouldn't have dropped from the sky. It was trauma.
"As if that was not enough, my mother's boyfriend moved into the house. She didn't tell us anything about it. We'd come back home and see him sprawled on the couch in only his underwear. At first, it was just the drinking, drugs, and smoking that was the problem. He'd be at my mother until she couldn't walk, and when she eventually got healed, he'd beat her again. She didn't even bother to leave even though we begged her to. We became the bad people. She said that if we leave him, we're nothing. We'd have no name. Alisha and I had each other because my mother didn't care if we ate. She didn't care if we went to school or not. We lived like that until we became teenagers. Just my sister and I."