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𝙑𝙊𝙇𝙐𝙈𝙀 𝑰𝑰.  ──────────  RUIN!

❛ dangling on the leash of      longing. . . ❜
─── chapter seven! ❫

007.  ╱    ❝ and the 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 makes sense
━━  behind a 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖓-𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐 fence.  ━━
if i could 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊, i would've already 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙. ❞

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﹙ 𝕱RIDAY ━ 𝕱EBRUARY 13TH, 2015 ﹚

     THE HARSH FLUORESCENT LIGHTS OF GALLAGHER & LANG'S 56TH FLOOR CUT THROUGH THE DARKNESS OF THE LATE FEBRUARY NIGHT. It was a stark beacon amidst the sea of dimmed office buildings. With everyone gone for the day, it was eerily quiet. Inside her corner office, Carson Crest leaned back in her leather desk chair, rubbing her tired eyes. The silver antique clock on her bookshelf, a gift from a grateful client, ticked relentlessly toward midnight.

     Carson's gaze drifted to the windows, where droplets from an earlier rain traced lazy paths down the glass, distorting the city lights beyond. She suppressed a yawn, her body protesting the long hours, yet her mind remained sharp, focused on the task at hand.

     Before her, spread across the expansive glass desk, lay the intricacies of the upcoming high-stakes merger. Carson had been working on this case for over a week, navigating the treacherous waters of antitrust laws and corporate negotiations. Tonight, she was fine-tuning the merger agreement, ensuring every clause was airtight. Errors could not be afforded.

     "Section 7.2," she muttered to herself, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Non-compete clauses need to be ironclad, but not so restrictive they'll raise eyebrows at the FTC."

     A half-empty cup of coffee, long since gone cold, sat forgotten among the stacks of legal briefs and spreadsheets. Her jacket was draped over the nearby couch, and she'd kicked off her heels hours ago, her stockinged feet tapping an absent rhythm on the plush carpet.

     As she worked, the office around her seemed to pulse with a quiet energy. The soft hum of her computer, the distant whir of the climate control system, and the occasional ping of a late-night email arriving all formed a familiar symphony of solitude.

     The scent of stale coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the crisp smell of freshly printed documents and the faint trace of her perfume. Shifting in the leather chair, the cool material against her skin sent a small shiver down her spine.

     Carson glanced at her phone, checking for messages from Parker. Her daughter was at a sleepover with her best friend Zoe, giving Carson the perfect opportunity to lose herself in work. No distractions, no interruptions. Just her and the law, the way she liked it.

     And yet...

     Her eyes drifted to her sleek leather briefcase, tucked neatly beside her desk. Inside, were Gideon's files—a Pandora's box of memories and mysteries she'd been avoiding since last weekend. The weight of them grew with each passing hour, their presence a silent challenge to her carefully constructed world.

     Shaking her head, she tried to refocus on the merger agreement. This was important work that could make or break careers, reshape industries. She shouldn't be wasting time on... on what? Ghost stories? Old cases?

     But even as she thought it, her hand was already reaching for the briefcase.

     A quick break and then back to work.

     When she pulled the files out, their weight increased tenfold. Carson hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the topmost folder. For a split second, she was no longer a successful corporate lawyer in a Manhattan high-rise but a scared little girl in West Linn, her world shattered beyond repair.

     Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. It was time to face the music. She glanced at her desk, covered in the meticulous work she'd done on the merger. No, she wouldn't disrupt that. Instead, she gathered the files and moved to the sleek leather couch in front of her row of bookshelves.

     Tucking her feet under her, she settled on the cool leather and pulled her straightened hair into a high bun. She spread the files out on the low glass coffee table. The files and what they contained—police reports, crime scene photographs, M.E. reports—didn't gel well with the tasteful law books and modern art that adorned her office. It didn't feel right, but she'd rather look through everything there rather than at the apartment.

     Out of the seven, there was one that was particularly thick. It was a folder labeled "Crest Family - West Linn, OR, 1984" and she set it aside for last. Her hands hovered over the remaining six, each representing a shattered family and orphaned little girl, a mirror to her own tragedy.

     With a sigh, she picked up the first file, dated August 15, 1999. "The Sawyer Family - Amherst, Massachusetts," her voice was barely a whisper in the quiet office yet it sounded unnaturally loud.

     Opening the file, she was immediately confronted with crime scene photos. The Sawyer family home, a quaint colonial with a white picket fence, looked idyllic from the outside. Inside, it told a different story. Carson forced herself to look at the photos of Robert Sawyer (40), Ashley Sawyer (42), and their son Scott (10), their bodies positioned with eerie precision in the living room and foyer.

     Carson's stomach churned as she forced herself to look at the photos. Turning the pages, her fingers trembled slightly. Each new detail was a fresh wound to her psyche.

     Her eyes lingered on the statement from seven-year-old Emily Sawyer, the sole survivor. The girl's account was fragmented, filled with references to shadows and whispers in the night. Carson's heart ached, recognizing the trauma in every halting sentence.

     Setting the file aside, she reached for the next one. "June 3, 2002 - The Delaney Family, Albany, New York." This one hit closer to home, not just geographically but temporally—it coincided with the day she moved to New York for her first clerkship position. She'd graduated from Harvard on the twenty-third of May.

     A soft creak from somewhere in the office made Carson's head snap up, her heart rate quickening. She scanned the room, seeing nothing out of place, but the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Shaking her head, she tried to focus back on the files.

     Paul Delaney (45), Sophia Delaney (43), and Ryan Delaney (12) were found in their suburban home, arranged in a manner chillingly similar to the Sawyers. Four-year-old Lily Delaney was found hiding in a closet, clutching a stuffed rabbit.

     Carson's hand trembled as she opened the next file. "June 17, 2003 - The Knight Family, Princeton, New Jersey." She remembered that day—that's when she temporarily moved to New Jersey to do another clerkship position program.

     Jonathan Knight (38), Maria Knight (36), and Brandon Knight (9) were the victims this time. Seven-year-old Natalie Knight was the survivor, found wandering the street in her bloodied pajamas at dawn.

     This pattern continued with each file:

     ➞ August 22, 2004: The Elliot Family, Buffalo, New York. Jacob (41), Katherine (39), and Patrick (9) Elliot. Survivor: Jessica Elliot (7).

     ➞ February 7, 2006: The Morrison Family, Boise, Idaho. Juan (44), Rayna (44), and Dalton (11) Morrison. Survivor: Zaria Morrison (4).

     ➞ December 19, 2010: The Solik Family, Portland, Oregon. Gregory (39), Jinny (41), and Anthony (8) Solik. Survivor: Allie Solik (7).

     With each file, Carson's sense of dread grew. The similarities were undeniable—the precision of the killings, the positioning of the bodies, the ages of the survivors. Each date corresponded to a significant event in her life: starting law school, after she graduated from Harvard and went to New York for her first clerkship position, New Jersey for her second clerkship position, landing the associate position at Gallagher & Lang, and near the day she adopted Parker.

     Closing the final folder, Carson almost collapsed against the couch. Her head was spinning and spinning and spinning. The connections were indisputable, and she didn't believe in coincidences. The lawyer in her would never allow that.

     Carson shut her eyes and began a breathing exercise to calm her heart rate. Mentally, she tried to view the evidence like any other case, searching for patterns, motives, or anything pointing to a suspect. But every time she started to analyze dispassionately, the faces of the victims—so similar to her own family—swam before her eyes. This wasn't just another case. This was her life, her history, her future. She was biased and that wasn't a good thing.

     What did all of this mean? Had something from her past been following her all these years, replicating the murders of her family? What did Jason want her to do with all of this?

     And how did Olivia fit into it? How could she be the one behind all of it like Jason suggested in his letter?

     Slowly, her eyes flickered to the Crest family file, still untouched. Letting out a heavy groan that echoed, she pushed herself into a seated position. With a shaky hand, she reached for it, aware revisiting these murders would be the hardest part of all.

     Just as her fingers brushed the folder, a soft knock at her office door startled her. Carson looked up to see Melanie, her secretary, peering in with concern.

     "Carse?" Melanie's voice was gentle. "I thought I might find you here. It's nearly three in the morning. You haven't stayed this late in years. Is everything okay?"

     Blinking, Carson was suddenly aware of the time and all the scattered files around the couch. Opening her mouth to respond, she found herself at a loss for words. How could she explain what she'd just uncovered? She wasn't a liar. And more importantly, what was she going to do about it?

     Melanie stood in the doorway with concern etched into her features. Her usual crisp appearance was slightly rumpled from a long day at the firm.

     "Melanie, what are you doing here? I thought you went home hours ago."

     "I did," the woman answered, stepping into the office with a small smile playing on her lips despite the worry in her eyes. "I went out for drinks with some of the associates, forgot the keys to my apartment here, and then got caught up redoing some of the filing systems downstairs. Didn't expect to find the lights still on up here." She paused, taking in the scene before her. "Is everything okay?"

     "Yes, all is okay. I'm fine, Mel," Carson said, sweeping her fingers under her eyes to brush away any fallen mascara. "Just caught up in some research."

     It was quiet as Melanie took in the scattered files, the legal pad covered in Carson's hurried cursive notes, and the half-finished merger documents on the desk. "Research? Carse, these don't look like merger docs. I didn't study law, but I'm not blind."

     Carson sighed, rubbing her temples to ease an oncoming headache. "No, they're not. It's complicated."

     Melanie moved closer, her brows raising when she caught sight of a crime scene photo peeking out from one of the files. "What is all this?"

     For a moment, Carson considered deflecting and falling back on the professional distance she usually maintained. However, this was Melanie, her secretary and best friend whom she trusted with any and everything. This shouldn't be an exception.

     "Remember the envelope Jason left me?"

     "This is it?"

     "Yup."

     Melanie sat on the couch beside Carson, careful not to disturb the papers. "Do you want to talk about it?"

     Dropping her hands into her lap, Carson shrugged. "I have no clue where to start," she admitted.

     "How about with why Gideon left you files filled with crime scene photographs and why you're looking at them in the middle of the night?" Melanie suggested, raising an eyebrow.

     Carson couldn't help but chuckle at the direct approach. It was one of the things she appreciated most about her. "Always straight to the point, aren't you, Mel?"

     Shrugging, another small smile was on Melanie's lips. "Someone's got to keep you on your toes, boss."

     Playfully rolling her eyes, Carson leaned onto the couch and pulled her knees to her chest. "These are cold cases. Families murdered over the past sixteen years. And they're all... Jason believes they're all connected to me somehow, and I'm starting to agree."

     "Connected?" Melanie's eyes widened. "How?"

     "The dates, the details... they all line up with significant events in my life. And the M.O., it's similar to..." her voice trailed off, gaze darting to the untouched Crest family file.

     Understanding dawned on Melanie's face. "To what happened to your family," she finished softly.

     Carson nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "Jason was investigating these cases. He thought there might be a connection."

     "And now you're picking up where he left off?"

     "I don't know," she admitted, meeting her unwavering stare. "I don't know what I'm doing, Melanie. This is bigger than I thought. And scarier."

     Melanie was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she asked, "Does Parker know about any of this?"

     Immediately, Carson nodded. "She's the one who first noticed the patterns. She wants... she wants us to go to West Linn for part of her spring break. To investigate."

     Nothing further needed to be said. Both women knew returning to West Linn pushed Carson's boundaries when revisiting the past. They also knew who lived there and who wouldn't hesitate to sink their teeth into Carson's heart in any way they could. It'd been five years since all communication had been blocked and cut off.

     "Oh, shit," Melanie muttered, blinking. "How do you feel about that?"

     That question seemed to trigger something in Carson for she abruptly stood up, moving to the windows. The city she loved sprawled before her, a glittering tapestry of lights and shadows. "Terrified," she admitted, loud enough for her friend to hear. "Curious. Angry. I've spent so long placing roadblocks and boundaries between myself and the past, Mel. Building this life, this career, a family. And now..."

     "Now it could all be coming back," Melanie finished, frowning deeply. Mimicking Carson's actions from moments ago, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them.

     Carson turned to face her, conflict clear in her expression. "What if going puts Parker in danger? What if I'm opening a door that needs to stay closed?"

     The mere thought of Parker in harm's way made Carson's blood run cold. She'd worked so hard to give her daughter a safe, normal life—far from the shadows and abuse she went through with two sets of parents. But now, those shadows were creeping back, threatening to engulf not just her, but Parker too.

     Could she justify putting her kid at risk for the sake of answers? But then again, could she justify not seeking those answers if it meant this nightmare might never end?

      Lifting her head, Melanie tilted it. "What if you're finally facing something you should have long ago?" she countered gently, playing devil's advocate just a tad. "Carse, I've known you since Jersey. You're the one who convinced the firm to hire me and convinced me to move here permanently with you. I've seen you do the impossible time and time again. You're never one to back down from a challenge, especially when it comes to justice."

     Carson felt tears prickling at the corners of her vision. "This is different, Mel. This is personal."

     "Maybe that's exactly why you need to do this," Melanie said softly. "For yourself, for Parker, for all those other families."

     They allowed silence to fill the room while the weight of the decision hung between them. Finally, Carson spoke. "If I do this... if we go to West Linn... I'm going to need help."

     A smile spread across Melanie's face. "You know I've always got your back. That's not even a question. Whatever you need. So do Coleman, Estevez, Greenwood, Gallagher, and Lang. So does this whole firm."

     Coleman was one of the other junior partners at the firm, while Estevez and Greenwood were the senior partners. Then, there were Gallagher and Lang, the managing partners, all of whom Carson was good friends with.

     A wave of gratitude washed over Carson, and her lips tugged upward. "Thank you, Mel. I appreciate that and I appreciate you."

     The pair shared small smiles before glancing at the scattered files. A mix of dread and determination settled in Carson's chest when she re-read "Crest Family - West Linn, OR, 1984." Then, her line of sight traveled to the framed photo on her desk of her and Parker at the top of the Empire State Building. The picture both warmed Carson's heart and sent a chill through her entire body. Parker was her whole world, the reason she'd pushed herself so hard all these years. Now, that world was about to be turned upside down.

     The past was officially calling, and it was time to answer.

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╱ 𝕬UTHOR'S 𝕹OTE. . .

⁰² 𝕽𝖀𝕴𝕹. . . RUIN !
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written by CARDIIAC © 2024.
破滅 . ݃♱ .

     sigh. carson crest will never know peace for the next two months.

     the next chapter will be the last chapter of Volume Two and then we'll be starting (my favorite volume) Volume Three! i can't wait!

     QUESTION: how do y'all like this update schedule? do you like the consistent updating with only a few days between chapters? (i already have this entire book finished hence why i update so much. i'm curious to know if people prefer it.)

     i hope you enjoyed chapter seven! and i hope you have a beautiful day!

     thank you for reading <3

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˒⠀𝑹𝑬𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹. . . ▬⠀⤸

Thank you all for taking the time out of your day to comment on this story. It means a lot and helps the story be spread to a broader audience &&& allows me to grow as an author. All I ask is that people vote on each chapter, please. As a creator, it takes time to write and develop stories. So please, vote on every chapter. It means a lot more than I could ever express.

Don't forget to vote & comment!

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˒⠀𝑪𝑶𝑷𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻. . . ▬⠀⤸

❝ All Rights Reserved.
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