head, “That’s why I’m here and not her. You can't right now.”
Disappointment, even fury, crosses their faces. I put a hand up, “She is in a fragile state. Her mental state is bad. I know you want to see her. I get it. But she is a mess and hasn’t even begun to understand anything. Right now she doesn’t remember anything from before. She has a type of disillusion going on. She has created a whole world, to block out the bad. You and I don’t exist to her.”
Their faces pale.
Roger gets a savage look on his face, “You mean to tell me, you know where our daughter is but we can't see her, after all these years? Is this some kind of fucking joke?”
I shake my head, “I know.”
“Stop saying you know. You don’t now.”
I nod, “I do know. I was with Sarah once. We were together at the place she was kept. We escaped together as children, after my sister was killed there. Even I haven’t seen her. I cannot contact her. The only person seeing her right now, who knows who she is, is her therapist. She is trying to slowly make her way into Sarah’s mind. If she isn’t careful, she could cause her to go catatonic. She suffers with extreme OCD, anxiety, a lack of control in her life, and she is delusional. She is a classic case of a person living in fight or flight. Her fight or flight response will literally be denial or withdrawing into herself.”
Helen wipes away her tears, “I don’t understand. How did this happen? Where was she?”
I sigh, “She was kidnapped by Laura and Randy Spicer. They took her to a place she calls the dirty house, in therapy. Trust me, that disgusting place suited that name. She remembers almost nothing from there, but I was there for two days once. When I saw her there, she was shutdown completely. I helped her escape. My name is Eli Adams. When you Google it, you’ll see my story in it. It’s not important, but it's better to know who I am. What’s important is she is safe, she is unharmed physically, and she is in treatment.”
Roger looks confused, “How long till we can see her?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know. When she finally knows who she is, she has to make that choice. The doctor won't force her to do anything detrimental to her well-being. I can't see her either.”
Helen grabs my hands and squeezes, “You need to keep us informed. Please, don’t leave us out of the loop on this. Do the police know?”
I squeeze back, “As soon as I know anything, I will tell you. You’re her only family.”
Roger looks angry still. I can't fault him for it. I am angry too. “Who’s this therapist she’s seeing?”
I give him a grin and try not to let it be my shitty one, “Her name is Jane Bradley. She cured me.”
It’s a lie but his face relaxes.
“She deals in PTSD and kidnapping victims.”
Helen’s face scrunches into a sob, “What did they do to her?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know. When I got there, she was already five or six. The timeline is, essentially, she was taken from Boston to the dirty house. She left the dirty house with me and stayed with me for a day. From there she went to Clovis, somehow. She stayed in Clovis, living on the streets. She was found and taken to the orphanage. A drug house had been busted just months before she was found. They assumed she was one of the kids from that. There was a lot of prostitution. She gave them the name Emalyn Spicer. It was the only thing she remembered. The name never came up in the system. And Clovis being so small, they never thought to piece together Emalyn, my sister and Spicer, the family who kidnapped all those girls over the years. Anyway, she’s been there ever since.”
Roger nods, “We don’t want her in an orphanage. She isn’t a god-damned orphan. Where are the police on this?”
I put my hands up, “She’s safe there. There is no crime for the police to investigate. Finding her has solved the cold case for them. The Spicers are dead. The police are with us on
Disappointment, even fury, crosses their faces. I put a hand up, “She is in a fragile state. Her mental state is bad. I know you want to see her. I get it. But she is a mess and hasn’t even begun to understand anything. Right now she doesn’t remember anything from before. She has a type of disillusion going on. She has created a whole world, to block out the bad. You and I don’t exist to her.”
Their faces pale.
Roger gets a savage look on his face, “You mean to tell me, you know where our daughter is but we can't see her, after all these years? Is this some kind of fucking joke?”
I shake my head, “I know.”
“Stop saying you know. You don’t now.”
I nod, “I do know. I was with Sarah once. We were together at the place she was kept. We escaped together as children, after my sister was killed there. Even I haven’t seen her. I cannot contact her. The only person seeing her right now, who knows who she is, is her therapist. She is trying to slowly make her way into Sarah’s mind. If she isn’t careful, she could cause her to go catatonic. She suffers with extreme OCD, anxiety, a lack of control in her life, and she is delusional. She is a classic case of a person living in fight or flight. Her fight or flight response will literally be denial or withdrawing into herself.”
Helen wipes away her tears, “I don’t understand. How did this happen? Where was she?”
I sigh, “She was kidnapped by Laura and Randy Spicer. They took her to a place she calls the dirty house, in therapy. Trust me, that disgusting place suited that name. She remembers almost nothing from there, but I was there for two days once. When I saw her there, she was shutdown completely. I helped her escape. My name is Eli Adams. When you Google it, you’ll see my story in it. It’s not important, but it's better to know who I am. What’s important is she is safe, she is unharmed physically, and she is in treatment.”
Roger looks confused, “How long till we can see her?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know. When she finally knows who she is, she has to make that choice. The doctor won't force her to do anything detrimental to her well-being. I can't see her either.”
Helen grabs my hands and squeezes, “You need to keep us informed. Please, don’t leave us out of the loop on this. Do the police know?”
I squeeze back, “As soon as I know anything, I will tell you. You’re her only family.”
Roger looks angry still. I can't fault him for it. I am angry too. “Who’s this therapist she’s seeing?”
I give him a grin and try not to let it be my shitty one, “Her name is Jane Bradley. She cured me.”
It’s a lie but his face relaxes.
“She deals in PTSD and kidnapping victims.”
Helen’s face scrunches into a sob, “What did they do to her?”
I shake my head, “I don’t know. When I got there, she was already five or six. The timeline is, essentially, she was taken from Boston to the dirty house. She left the dirty house with me and stayed with me for a day. From there she went to Clovis, somehow. She stayed in Clovis, living on the streets. She was found and taken to the orphanage. A drug house had been busted just months before she was found. They assumed she was one of the kids from that. There was a lot of prostitution. She gave them the name Emalyn Spicer. It was the only thing she remembered. The name never came up in the system. And Clovis being so small, they never thought to piece together Emalyn, my sister and Spicer, the family who kidnapped all those girls over the years. Anyway, she’s been there ever since.”
Roger nods, “We don’t want her in an orphanage. She isn’t a god-damned orphan. Where are the police on this?”
I put my hands up, “She’s safe there. There is no crime for the police to investigate. Finding her has solved the cold case for them. The Spicers are dead. The police are with us on
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