"We found a body."
The phone receiver dropped to the floor as her hand went slack, her legs were suddenly too weak to support her weight and the woman crumbled to the floor in a heap. The screaming began immediately; blood-curdling sounds from deep within a mother's soul that once heard could never be forgotten.
Annabelle MacManus lay on her kitchen floor, screaming and staring into nothingness, not hearing the concerned voices around her, not caring if she lived or died. Her son, her baby, her Murphy…..no, please God. No.
In the two years since he disappeared, she hadn't lost faith that Murphy would be found alive. The few times doubt crept in, her faith was resurrected by Connor's staunch assertion that he'd know if Murphy was dead. They're twins, he'd fucking know, that's how it works with them. So together, mother and son held out hope, they prayed and Annabelle truly believed her missing child would be found alive and return home…..until that phone call.
It was a cold blustery day, much like today, when Detective Jennings called the MacManus household to give them the dreaded news. A murdered child was found in the woods, a boy with dark hair and a slight build wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans…..a boy matching Murphy's description.
He told her not to panic, to stay calm, that the child's identity was not yet known. But Annabelle heard none of that. She heard the word body and her world faded to black, it was a dark chasm full of screams and unbearable agony that coiled around her throat and strangled her in its merciless grip.
"It's not him, Ma. I'm telling you, it's not Murph."
Connor's words found her through the fog and once again, her son was her life-line in an otherwise intolerable situation. She focused on his voice as it pulled her back from the dark abyss, finally seeing Sibeal and Connor kneeling beside her, both with watery eyes and terror-stricken expressions. Then she remembered the phone call and her terror began anew.
"Annabelle, it might not be him," Sibeal said as he shook her shoulder, trying to keep her sane.
"It's not," Connor insisted firmly.
The next couple days were a living nightmare with no answers and no peace, only pain. When the police requested Murphy's dental records and Connor asked why, hot tears leaked from Annabelle's eyes as she quietly explained that the body was in the woods a long time. This was the only way to identify him. The look of realization on the boy's face broke her heart and Annabelle's body shuddered violently with the thought of Murphy dumped in the woods, injured and alone…..possibly crying for his mother. The child was left to die in the dirt, like he was nothing.
When Detective Jennings finally told them that the body was definitely not Murphy, they made him repeat it twice before they cried tears of relief. Annabelle clung to her oldest son, kissing his head a dozen times as a wave of guilt coursed through her mind…..she was happy the boy in the woods wasn't Murphy but she knew another child's family would be destroyed. That night, they prayed for the boy in the woods and they prayed extra hard for Murphy. He was out there somewhere, just waiting to be found.
Four years have passed since that night and Annabelle now stands on the very spot where she collapsed after that phone call. A wooden spoon trembles in her hand as she fights off the memory, remembering the crippling fear that consumed her when Murphy was missing. It's still palpable, that darkness, and Annabelle does her best to suppress and control it. Things are different now, Murphy is alive and safe. Their family is reunited. There's nothing more to be afraid of.
"You're going to burn the pudding if you just stand there staring at it," Sibeal warns with a slight chuckle in his voice. "It won't stir itself, you know."
Annabelle sighs and steps toward the stove, dipping the spoon into the pot and stirring. She hasn't made tapioca pudding in years, since the week before Murphy disappeared, if truth be known. It used to be his favorite, he would ask her to make it at least twice a week. But now she has no idea what he likes, what his favorite foods are and what she can cook to get him to eat. His tastes may have changed.
"He'll love it, Annabelle," Sibeal softly said, knowing her thoughts without her having to voice them.
She taps the spoon on the edge of the pot and smiles at the elderly man sipping tea at her table. She's been cooking for hours, making all kinds of dishes to tempt her son. Her boy is far too skinny, he's half the size of his twin and the doctor warned her that Murphy is extremely malnourished. But Annabelle intends to fix that.
"Connor told Murphy that you'll fatten him up in no time. Did you know that?"
"No, I didn't but that's exactly what I intend to do," Annabelle admits as she glances at the clock and notes the time. Murphy returned to school two days ago and even though he isn't yet in any regular classes, he still walks there and back with his brother. She hurries up her activity as Sibeal laughs at how quickly the stout woman moves, she's practically a blur as she removes banana bread from the oven and places it on the table.
Annabelle MacManus wants everything to be perfect when her boys arrive home.
Connor reaches down and picks up a large rock from the road. He turns it over in his hand before tossing it into the bushes, sighing at the rustling sound the leaves make. Shit, he hates walking home alone. It's boring as fuck without Murph.
He glances up at the sky and speeds up his pace, eager to hear what the doctor said at Murphy's appointment today. His brother should be home by now, he left school at lunchtime to meet their ma at the doctor's office and Connor prays they have good news. Maybe Murphy won't need his fingers re-broken after all, that's possible. It'll just kill Murph not to be able to draw, even for a couple weeks.
Connor opens the back door and he practically drools at the smells that greet him. He says hello to his uncle before tossing his books on the counter; a quick kiss to his mother's cheek and then he's sitting at the table reaching for fresh bread.
"Everything smells amazing. What's the special occasion, Ma?"
Annabelle sets a plate in front of him as he begins buttering the bread, her smile wide and comforting. "Your brother doesn't eat enough. It's time I fattened him up."
Connor laughs as he leans forward, looking past Annabelle and focusing on the pot on the stove. His mother glances at the backdoor before turning her attention back to her eldest, "It's tapioca pudding. Still warm too."
Connor momentarily presses his lips together and nods in approval, quietly stating, "I bet he still loves it, Ma. Just you wait and see. I bet it's still his favorite."
"I hope so," Annabelle simply responds as she moves toward the back door. She stands staring through the screen as Connor eats his bread and after a few moments, she turns back to her son and asks, "Where's your brother? I don't see him in the yard and the barn door is still latched shut."
"I don't know," Connor responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "Isn't he upstairs in our room?"
"Why would he be upstairs?"
Connor swallows the last bit of bread in his mouth as he contemplates her question, not understanding why she wouldn't know where Murphy is. She's kept a close eye on him since his return to the family and she knows his whereabouts practically every minute of the day…..Murphy even complained that her hovering drives him nuts. Why wouldn't she know where he is? Especially since they'd just come home from his doctor appointment.
"Where else would he be?" Connor responds, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"With you," Annabelle says as she moves toward her son, her concern growing exponentially. "Didn't he walk home with you?"
The color drains from Annabelle's face as Connor responds that Murphy left school at lunchtime, he had a note and everything. "He said he was meeting you at the doctor's office. About his fingers."
Sibeal stands up and he grabs Annabelle by her arm just as she begins to sway in place, guiding her to a seated position as she runs her hand over her suddenly sweaty face.
"Ma? What's wrong? Did something happen at the doctor's?"
And just like that, in the blink of an eye, time stops once again as Connor's heart pounds loudly in his chest and nearly drowns out his mother's explanation. Murphy didn't have a doctor appointment today, it was rescheduled for next Tuesday. She told Murphy about the change this morning before Connor came down for breakfast.
A wave of nausea turns Connor's stomach upside down as Annabelle suddenly stands from the table and marches to the phone, calling the school. She interrogates the woman on the other end, demanding to know why they let Murphy leave but suddenly going quiet when the answer is given. He had a note from Annabelle…..Murphy used the original note she had written days earlier to ditch school.
"My God, where could he be?" she wonders as she hangs up the phone. There's no one to call, Sibeal is already here and Murphy hasn't made any new friends yet. She has to do something to find her son….but what?
"Connor. Go upstairs and see if Murphy's knapsack is still in your room," she orders as she struggles to remain calm. "He'd never leave it behind if he planned to stay away."
The young man takes off like a shot, bounding up the stairs two at a time and practically exploding through the bedroom door. The beat-up knapsack is exactly where Murphy left it this morning, resting on the floor next to his bed. Connor yells down to his mother that the knapsack is still in their room but before he returns to the kitchen, he's struck with an idea.
Maybe there's something inside the knapsack that will tell Connor what his brother is up to, why he lied and why he didn't come home. Maybe there's a clue of some kind.
Connor picks up his brother's property and sets it on his bed, fingering the zipper. He had promised to respect Murphy's privacy, he swore he'd never violate that trust. But what if Murph is in trouble? What if he's in danger?
After a moment of contemplation, he decides it's better to risk his brother's wrath than let him suffer in dire straits. Connor slowly pulls on the zipper, opening his brother's lone possession and glancing inside. He sees a couple of sketchpads and what appears to be a book of some kind along with a framed picture resting on a wadded up t-shirt. He cocks his head to the side, recognizing the picture as the one missing from the curio cabinet in their living room…..it's from their last Christmas before Murphy disappeared.
The shrill sound of the telephone startles Connor from his thoughts and he quickly moves to the top of the stairs, struggling to listen. He can't understand Annabelle's words but her tone reflects relief, then confusion quickly followed by a mountain of concern. Forgetting all about the knapsack, Connor races down the stairs just as his mother hangs up the receiver and turns in his direction.
"That was Detective Jennings. Your brother has been arrested."
"Sorry to keep you both waiting," Detective Jennings apologizes as he enters the room, quietly shutting the door behind him and placing a small cardboard box on the table. "Can I get you some coffee, Annabelle? Or tea?"
"You can get me answers, Ron. Where's my son?" After twenty minutes of waiting in an exceedingly stuffy room, the last thing Annabelle wants is another delay.
"Right to the point. As always," Ron responds in resignation, pulling out a chair opposite Annabelle and her oldest twin. "Murphy is fine, he's in a holding room. I'm just waiting for my sergeant's decision on the charges."
"Charges? For what?" Connor asks, his voice loud and demanding, his demeanor incensed.
Annabelle reaches over and pats his arm, calming him with her gentle touch before turning her attention back to her friend, the detective. "Murphy is a good boy, Ron. What exactly are you accusing him of?"
Mother and son listen carefully to the explanation, not wanting to believe what's said but unable to dispute its validity. Murphy was caught shoplifting and when he was confronted, he ran. The security guard tackled the teenager and after a brief struggle, Murphy was dragged back to the store.
"The guard is an off-duty policeman so there's a secondary charge of resisting arrest along with shoplifting."
"There's no reason for him to steal. I'd buy him anything he wants," Annabelle said with tears in her eyes, a sense of bewilderment clawing at her heart. She lowers her head and briefly closes her eyes, struggling with the heartache threating to consume her as doubt plagues her mind and terrorizes her soul…..what had she done wrong? Had she pushed Murphy too hard? Or not enough?
Ron gives her a moment to gather herself before he explains that what Murphy did could be a cry for help. Or it could be a reaction to his inability to process his emotions after returning home. "He probably doesn't even know why he did it, Annabelle."
She nods at his kind words and wipes at her face before lifting her head again, the pain in her eyes causing the seasoned detective to look away.
"What happens now?" she asks.
His response is simple and direct. The arresting officer agreed to dismiss the secondary offense but only if the shopkeeper drops all charges. Annabelle needs to speak with the owner of the store and somehow convince him to withdraw the shoplifting complaint.
"Fine. Where is the shopkeeper? I'll speak with him right away."
Ron sits back and grins in admiration. This woman inspires him beyond measure, her love for her child is all encompassing even when faced with grave concerns over his behavior, health and emotional stability. It pains Ron to watch her go through these trials and tribulations, to see her suffer along with her children. She doesn't deserve this, none of them do. But there's still more she needs to know. And the detective can't delay any further.
"I need to show you something first. You need to see what Murphy stole."
Ron doesn't wait for a response or a reaction, he reaches for the box on the table and slides it forward, taking off the lid. The air in the room is thick with tension as he pulls out two king size candy bars. Connor laughs loudly at the ridiculousness of this stolen item and the detective places the chocolate on the table, seemingly unfazed by the teenager's reaction. The laughter stops abruptly when a small bottle of whiskey is placed on the table followed by a large knife. Then a second knife. And then a third.
Annabelle's mouth hangs open and she shakes her head in disbelief at the sight before her eyes…..her baby stole knives, three knives. She's staggered by the thought of her child stealing but seeing what he actually took is more devastating than the crime itself.
"Annabelle, I'm sorry to ask you this but I have to. Do you think Murphy would hurt you or Connor in any way? Or possibly himself?"
As Connor is led down the hall toward his brother's holding room, the echo of his mother's gasp still rings in his ear. It was a terrible question the detective asked and one they both emphatically denied. No, absolutely not, Murphy would never hurt either of them…..that's a fact. But would he hurt himself? That question they can't answer, not with any certainty.
"Once your mother is done with the shopkeeper, I'll bring her to the holding room," Ron instructs, pausing once they reach their destination. "It shouldn't be long."
Connor barely hears the detective's words but he nods out of habit, which seems to satisfy the man. When the door is unlocked and he steps inside, Connor is greeted by his own reflection in the two-way mirror and not much else, except for a small table and chair in the cramped room.
"He's sitting on the floor," Ron whispers as Connor strains his neck to see beyond the table. "I have to lock the door but if you need something, just knock. The guard will hear you."
Once the detective is gone, Connor slowly walks around the table and pauses next to his twin. He waits as patiently as he can, hoping Murphy will look up and acknowledge him in some way but all his brother does is stare at the floor, silent and unmoving.
Murphy looks so small sitting with his back pressed against the wall and his arms wrapped tightly around his drawn up knees. Connor's feet are perpendicular to his brother's and the size difference is shocking, it's such a profound contrast that he can barely stand it. He forces himself to look away and he pivots in place, sitting on the floor next to his twin.
"It's cold in here," Connor observes as he rests his back against the wall and stretches out his legs. He notices a fresh bruise on Murphy's cheekbone along with a number of scrapes on his knuckles, presumably from the struggle with the guard. They sit in complete silence for a few minutes until Murphy finally lifts his head and glances at his brother through the fringe of his hair.
"You okay?" Connor asks, his concern as real now as it ever was.
The head nod is barely a movement but Connor sees it and even though they both know it's a fucking lie, that Murphy isn't really fine and hasn't been for years, both twins let it be.
"Why are you on the floor? It's fucking cold down here," Connor says in an attempt to get his twin talking. He blows on his hands and rubs them together, adding "That jean jacket can't be that warm, even with a hoodie underneath."
Murphy doesn't know why but he feels safer on the floor with the wall behind him. And he's used to being cold, it's not that bad once you get used to it, not really. He's spent many nights huddled in the dark root cellar, shivering with the rats while waiting for the big man to return. Fucking hell, sitting on the police station floor is nothing compared to that.
Murphy looks away again, confusion clouding his mind. He doesn't understand why Connor is here, of all places. Connor should be ashamed of him, he should be angry and disappointed…..not sitting next to him, worrying that he's cold.
"You stole some interesting things," Connor observes in an off-hand sort of way, doing his best to sound nonchalant before adding, "I didn't know you liked whiskey."
"I never tried it before…..but I figured if I drank enough, I'd pass out," Murphy reasons as he picks at a small tear in the knee of his jeans, his index finger making the hole double in size. He sighs loudly and straightens his legs, mimicking his brother's position and admitting, "I feel like I haven't slept in years."
They again sit in awkward silence as Murphy struggles with his demons. His pain is an open book to his other half and even though Connor doesn't know the details, he understands the genesis.
"Those knives are pretty scary, Murph."
Murphy reaches up and he pushes the hair from his eyes before turning to look at his twin, his gaze piercing as concern takes hold. "I'd never hurt you or…..her. I swear, I'd never do that."
"Yeah, we know," Connor says with a slight smile and a sincere nod of reassurance. "But it's kind of scary to think you might hurt yourself."
Murphy bites his lip as he presses the back of his head against the cold wall, reveling in the coolness of the concrete as he stares up at the ceiling. "I'm not suicidal, Connor. If I wanted to hurt myself I would have done it a million times in the past six years."
Connor's eyes soften with realization as he painfully concedes, "I suppose that's true."
Murphy slowly fills his lungs with oxygen and he holds his breath momentarily as he gathers his courage, deciding he can trust Connor with this secret. "I stole the knives because I need them. I'm fucking scared and I need them, okay?"
"Murph," Connor begins gently, reaching out to rest his hand on his brother's forearm. "No one is going to hurt you again, I promise."
This catches Murphy's attention and he shakes his head emphatically, touched by his brother's words yet wondering how Connor could get it so wrong.
"I need the knives for you, Conn. To protect you. I have to keep you safe."
"From what?"
Murphy's eyes slowly fill with tears, clouding his vision as his entire body shakes harder with each passing second. He swears he can almost hear the crack of a belt before it cuts into his flesh and he struggles to find his voice but he can only manage a whisper. "I think I saw him."
"You saw who?" Connor asks with concern, leaning closer to hear his brother's barely audible words.
"Him. The big man."