100 Ways to Solve a Murder-Chapter 184: The Skeletons IV

Present day. Spindlewood

Sam stepped out of her rented car, and stood before her late parent’s Cabin in Spindlewood, sporting a pair of hiking boots, jeans and a black shirt under her coat.

Well, what’s left of it anyway.

Burnt wreckage that stood out of the green leafy forests.

She leaned to the side of the car, her hands shaking as memories of that wretched night played in her mind so clearly---together with the muffled cries of both her mother and father, the footsteps, the sound of skin slapping against skin, all of which was taunting her.

She could feel her heart pounding against her chest, and took note of her breathing, fast and shallow.

’Calm down’ she coached herself and thought that perhaps going alone was a terrible idea. Maybe, she should have told him.

Levi.

But that’s too late now.

Sam started walking towards it, what remains of the once luxurious cabin, were its foundation and the charred floors.

Sam clenched her jaw and balled her fists. She took a deep breath and exhaled, the doubt in her eyes turned to determination, and she took a step forward. Another followed, till finally, she found herself walking through the familiar halls, making her way towards her room where it all began.

And where it ended.

She stepped inside where there once was a door, and Sam gritted her teeth. To her left was where her father’s body once was. Hunched over, blonde hair covering his face, she could still recall how the edges of his face felt like under her tiny hands. He had forgotten to shave---understandable at his lifeless state.

And not far from him was where her mother’s body was, lying on the floor; exposed to the world.

To her right was where her bed once was, she approached it slowly, taking note of the mixture of scents; wood, dust and mould—recalling the darkness under her bed, remembering how the rug felt beneath her small body. She sat there, on that same spot. And for a moment she could see it all. In her three-year-old eyes, how it played both so old and so fresh in her mind.

She also remembered what happened after, after three-year-old Sam grew tired of drawing in her burrowed sheets of paper from her dad’s office waiting for them to wake.

....

30 years ago

Three-year-old Sam lied on her stomach, papers filled with childish drawings; crayons within her reach. It had been hours, and she was growing hungry, but Mom and Dad were still sleeping, so she should wait.

"Sammy?" She heard a masculine voice say; the 3-year-old turned towards the source. Her lips cracked into a smile suddenly, seeing a familiar face. Next thing she was running towards the man excitedly, her drawings forgotten on the floor. That man was Jonathan Riley; he was the Family Butler.

Jonathan instantly took the young girl in his arms, his eyes wide, jaw hanging agape at the scene before him. His stomach churned, his eyes stung, but he blinked the tears away. He looked at the girl in his arms, she was unscathed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to the door and walked away. He took her out of the cabin, kept holding her, and didn’t let go.

Calls were made, and instructions were given.

Jonathan looked at the redhead sitting beside him in the car’s backseat. His jacket draped over her tiny body as she played with the stuffed toy in her hand. He was concerned, to say the least, for the usually chatty three-year-old girl had not uttered a single word, nor did she shed a single tear. He knew she most likely didn’t understand that she would never see her parents again.

He sighed, looking at the toy in her small hands, and he reached out, taking it from her hand. Her big green eyes gazed up at him, confused as he pulled it away.

"Leo," he called after rolling down the window. The sandy-haired man approached the car and took the toy from his superior’s hand. "It must burn with everything else," Jonathan said, sadness clear in his voice. He nodded in response, orders were orders, and so he tossed it inside the cabin, then turned to the other men who stood waiting for instructions. They had finished cleaning up all that they could clean, collecting all that needed collecting, and had poured gasoline all over the place.

He turned to look at the black car when he heard the engine start, "Burn it all." he said, walking away and hurrying back to the car. He got on the passenger seat. Jonathan nodded to the driver, and they watched the Cabin set into flames through the rear-view mirror while they drove away.

Sam stepped out of the remnants of the cabin shortly, and she got in her rented Honda Civic and drove away---she looked at the burnt cabin one last time through the rearview mirror, as though she was seeing it burning again like before.

"I can’t give you justice... it’s too late now.

But I will get you revenge." She swore.

.....

7 Eastbourne Rd

Levi had a whole scenario in his head; he had connected all the available dots---Sam knew her parents were murdered; not only that but she also knew that her family was responsible for covering it up. Thus, explaining her lack of enthusiasm with regards to them. How she knew, he reckons she had reviewed her parents’ files ages ago. She was, after all, capable of turning a cold case hot. One way or another, he was certain she came across her parents’ case and figured out everything.

The Irishman paced back and forth, looking at the reports of the ’fire’ plastered on the whiteboard. The news was orchestrated. The whole story of their tragic demise was far more tragic than the media led the World to believe. The couple was murdered, and from what his brilliant mind can only fathom, it was in the same brutal way as the Wilson’s. That was the link; that was why she took the case personally, that’s why she knew it so well.

How she was so invested in it, the double murder case. Like her parents, they were a couple in an isolated place. However, something stood up like a sore thumb; something didn’t fit in. Sam’s parent’s murder occurred 30 years ago. Pattin is 38 years old; he would have only been 11 at the time of the incident. He couldn’t have done it. Which only leads to the real assailant out there.

Free.

Does that mean she left to look for him? He wondered to himself.

It was the next day when the slicked blond absentmindedly shuffled the cards in his hands, thinking.

Wondering just where she was, Elle had texted him just minutes ago that records had shown Sam took a flight to Somerset, which cements his theory that her sudden ’disappearance’ was about her parents’ case.

Why was she looking back? After three decades, evidence would have been gone. More so, with the fire burning the whole cabin down, it’s close to non-existent.

Her move wasn’t making any sense to him, but he knew she wouldn’t be doing things that didn’t make sense. So knew a piece in his puzzle was missing.

He should really get that Cabin Fire file soon, maybe being there would help him figure out what was running in her mind.

But for now, he decided to review the Journal; it still bothered him. What did she see that he hadn’t noticed?

His cards dropped on the floor, and he suddenly grabbed the Journal, and as if on cue, the front door swung open, revealing Marco. And his sudden movement startled the doctor on the other side of the door, and he shot his friend a frown, but he was ignored.

Levi scanned the Journal again, it’s nothing but Pattin’s daily routine.

What is it that I am not seeing? Levi couldn’t help but wonder.

"What’s the craic?" Marco asked, using his friend’s go-to line as he took the seat opposite him. Before he climbed up, he had dropped by the agency, telling the boys that they are busy on a case and, if need be, to give them a call.

"I’ve spoken with Michael Rogers." the slicked blond answered, earning Marco’s attention. He knew the guy, more like, of him. He won a British Journalism Award, some big shot journalist back in his time.

But why did the Irishman talk to him? He couldn’t help wonder.

"Yeah?" he responded, getting off his seat and making his way to the kitchen to make some tea. He wanted to get warm; it was a bit nippy outside; the weather had been shit, in his opinion. More shit than usual, that is.

Levi turned to look at Marco in the kitchen preparing the teacups, "I learned the news report on Sam’s parent’s death in the fire was orchestrated by none other than Jason Murdoch." he divulged.

And Marco whiplashed to look at him, with a stunned expression on his face.