Torn Apart

Chapter 3

One hour later, the two girls were in the library, sifting through rivers of newspaper articles.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Mackenzie asked, after tossing aside a teen suicide clipping.

"A news article from the night of my parents’ murder; or something about that guy, Goodwin. I'm not sure of his first name." Her eyebrows knit together in thought.

"Alright." The searching continued in silence. After another fifteen minutes, Lilly threw her hands up in despair.

"Okay, this is hopeless," she buried her face into her hands for a moment, before glancing up again. "It's time for technology."

She signed out a computer from a miserable looking Librarian, and proceeded to sift through digital articles. Lucky for her, there was a search bar for which city's papers she was looking for. 'Winnipeg Sun' she typed. Several different categories popped up on the screen, along with the very familiar paper logo. She couldn't even count the hours spend poring over these papers growing up. The foster homes did a very good job keeping out "worldly news", but they couldn't stop her from sneaking out and taking a paper for herself.

Every Sunday, on a bench three blocks from her primary foster home, was an old man who sat there at exactly 8:00 in the evening. She didn't know why he always sat there, same place, same time, every week. He was very friendly, and always kept up an interesting conversation with stories from his life. He used to be a marine, but was wounded so he was sent home with chronic pain in his left leg that made it difficult to walk.

He had a wife, and a son, that was all she could get from his personal life, not even his name did he disclose to her. Lilly didn't know who this man was but he apparently knew about her, then again, who didn't? Her name had been all over the tabloids for months. Every time they met at that bench, Sunday evening, he slipped her a paper with a wink. It was like he was her guardian Angel, sent from God to be her only friend in a lonely world.

 'If you don't want to be alone, why don't you make some friends?'

He had asked her on a chilly December night.

'Nobody likes me. They think I'm weird or seeking attention because of my parents—’

'You're a sweet girl. I'm sure there's somebody who values who you are as a friend.'

'No. You should see the way they look at me in school. Nobody wants to be my partner in class projects, nobody talks to me if they can help it; and when they do, it's like they're scared of me. Like I got some sort of contagious disease.'

'Well then they're missing out on some excellent conversation.'

He cracked a yellowed grin at her; she couldn't help but smile back. He was so kind, but he could never understand what it was like for her. She looked up at the sky, which was blacker than it should have been, it was quite late.

'Oh Gosh, I'm sorry, but I gotta get back before somebody notices I'm gone.' He nodded, smile illuminated from the streetlamp above.

'Well then, you'd best be going eh?' As she stood, he took her hand with his tattered gloved one. She felt a small package slip into it, alongside the Sunday paper. He winked, frost-coated whiskers quivering. 'Happy Birthday Lilly.' Her smile was never as true as it was right then. A present! How had he known it was her birthday?

She thanked him, and took off in a sprint back to her secluded bedroom. It was a snow-globe, she saw as she carefully tore off the shiny red paper. A small Angel, with outstretched sparkling white wings, and arms raised upward in praise, stood in the center of it. The small object was beautiful in every aspect, every angle she looked at it with. Every time she pulled it out of her hiding place, a shoebox underneath the bed, she was struck with awe and thanks for that old man.

The next Sunday, the cold bench was empty, underneath the bright streetlamp, coated in an inch of dazzling white snow. There was a paper laying there, a note attached to it. The old man was there, but couldn't stay. He was advancing on in his age, and his knees could hardly carry him anymore. The cold was hard on his bones and he needed to stay in the warm air that his home had to offer his health. He hoped to see her around. Reading that note brought a tear to her eye. It never occurred to her that he was getting older. That was the last time she had ever heard from him.

"Hey! I think I found something!" Mackenzie's voice pulled her sharply out of her flashback; she scooted over a little so Lilly could see as well. "Ann Goodwin, committed suicide in 2001; North Winnipeg, Manitoba. Sound familiar?"

"No, but it might. Read a bit more?"

She turned back to the monitor.

"Ann Goodwin, wife and mother of a daughter, was found hanging from a tree in the backyard of their home on Tuesday, July 10th. It has been disclosed that she had been suffering from major depression from the loss of her unborn child two weeks prior. Robert Goodwin deals with his grief over the loss of his wife and child."

Lilly raised her eyes from the screen to look at her friend, who was staring open-mouthed at it.

"This is the nutcase who... Y'know, went off the wall?"

"Yeah. That's him." Something wasn't quite right. The night he had finally snapped, and Lilly was listening at her door, there had been talk about her Dad's job. She had no clue as to where her Dad was previously employed, but wherever it was, couldn't have been common.

"Well, not to be rude or anything, but what he did, is almost understandable." Lilly paused, eying her warily. Wherever she was going with this, she'd better tread carefully.

"How so?"

"Well, his child died for some unknown reason right? And his wife, totally grief-stricken, hangs herself."

"Yeah, I read that. How does that make you sympathize with him?"

"A proud parent suddenly lost his wife and child Lils. It pushed him over the edge. And not knowing how to cope, he lashed out, your parents just happening to be there at the time." Okay, that did make sense. It seemed to be the only logical explanation, but if she hadn’t been listening through the bedroom door…

‘"He quit, remember? He’s out of job! Done! Leave him out of this; he’s not part of it anymore!"’

‘"Wrong! You are all wrong! And now you will pay for your lies."’

"It’s a possibility," She scratched at an itchy spot on her head.

"Lilly, it’s the only way. Unless there’s something alien happening with him, like molecular alterations or something." Lilly stayed silent, staring at a spot on the floor. Mackenzie sighed. "Listen, he was really bad off, couldn’t cope, didn’t seek the treatment he obviously needed and went completely deranged. What more evidence do you want?" Something was missing, though. There was something else.

"He had a daughter," Lilly whispered, saying it as it popped into her mind.

"What?"

"He had a daughter, very young. What’s her name again?" Mackenzie scanned the text again.

"Vanessa Goodwin, age six. Hey, she’s only two years younger than you?"

"Yeah, but think; people only kill when they have nothing left to live for, grieving or not. He had a reason. Vanessa seems a pretty good reason to me." Not to mention the biased memory. This had to mean something.

"Yeah but Lilly, people do things, forget things, when they’re in pain. She was probably sitting in a corner somewhere crying her little eyes out."

"Okay, okay, let’s just, for the sake of argument, go along with your idea. Robert disappeared after the shootings, just vanished, off charts. The police were unable to locate him, he’s been slipperier than smoke. A six year old would be too much of a burden to hide, too much risk of being discovered."

"Oh!" Her eyebrows shot up. "So what you’re saying is—?"

"Yes," Lilly agreed, voice set with determination. "We need to find Vanessa Goodwin.

A/N: Hit that "Vote" button and leave a comment, let me know what you think! Please? Love you? Too far? Okay... :)