Read Grace: a Cinderella Story :: Chapter Three Part One

Chapter Three Ella paced back and forth in the kitchen. She stepped back to the counter and then forward again, one pace, then two. She looked back at the counter once more, perplexed. All right, Ella thought, she’s making cake, and then is hit from behind. She falls, her hand knocks over the bowl on her way down. The attacker cleans up the blood, but not the cake batter. Why? It had been nearly eleven years since Hailey Tremaine had disappeared. She had been mixing a bowl of cake batter in the kitchen. Police found cake batter splattered all over the floor, and the floor had recently been bleached. The police suggested that Hailey had bleached the floor that day to clean it in preparation for her daughter’s birthday party, making it a coincidence. After all, why would a perpetrator bother to clean up the blood, but ignore the cake batter? Would they have simply assumed the cake batter wouldn’t have any splotches of blood in it? Taking the time to clean up the blood but not the cake batter seemed like an unnecessary risk. The police had suggested that Hailey had perhaps been depressed and, upon accidentally overturning the bowl of cake batter, had reached her breaking point and left the house, leaving the oven on in the process. She had been so distraught she wasn’t thinking clearly, and had ended up killing herself or otherwise running into trouble which resulted in the inability of the police to find her. Perhaps she was homeless, wandering the streets as a prostitute, or her body could have been at the bottom of a ditch somewhere far away. The explanation the police had come up with painted an incomplete story, of which Ella remained entirely unconvinced. Her mother had indeed had a history of depression, but there was no indication she had been especially distressed at the time. Ella’s father, Marc, had informed the police at the time that Hailey had not stopped taking her medications, and Hailey’s therapy office had acknowledged she hadn’t missed any appointments. The police chalked it up to suicidal depression being a mysterious, unique experience, which had gone on unnoticed in the household due to Marc’s busy work schedule. Ella still thought it highly unlikely that no one would have noticed any changes at all in Hailey’s mood, especially if she was so deeply distressed as to make such an impulsive and extreme decision. Ella figured there were two possibilities: the first, that Hailey had been mixing the cake batter when she was struck from behind, pulling the bowl down with her; the second, that Hailey heard movement behind her and turned around, when she was silenced by chloroform or something similar, and the bowl fell when her deadened hand struck it. Ella thought the first was more likely because of the way the bowl had landed, and how the batter had been splattered all over the room. If Hailey had fallen more passively, she figured the bowl wouldn’t have ended up so far away, but would have, instead, fallen more or less straight down, causing the batter to pool in one location and not end up all over the walls. The first scenario still did not explain why the attacker felt comfortable taking the time to clean up the floor of blood, which was why the police had dismissed the idea at the time. Ella, however, justified this choice by surmising the attacker knew how much time they had before they would get caught. If the attacker had staked out the house for a week beforehand, they would have known Marc’s work schedule, and they would have known that they had plenty of time before Marc or Ella arrived home. The leaving behind of the cake batter could have been a choice of paranoia on the part of the attacker, or it could have indicated the attacker left the batter deliberately to either suggest Hailey had willingly left the house out of distress over knocking over the cake batter, or because the attacker did not realize there could be blood or other damning residue in the batter. There wasn’t, unfortunately, but an experienced attacker probably would not have left the batter behind if they had taken the time to clean up the blood, Ella reasoned. Assuming that the police were correct and Hailey had left the house entirely of her own accord, Ella wondered how far she could have possibly gone? Her car had been left behind, meaning she either left on foot or called a taxi before exiting the house. None of the local taxi drivers recalled seeing Hailey, making that a less likely possibility. Of course, Hailey could have become upset over the spilled cake batter, left the house for a quick walk, and been kidnapped while she was out. The Tremaine house was left unlocked, and Hailey may not have thought it necessary to lock the door if she was only planning to be out for a few minutes. Ella could not entirely rule out this possibility. No one had seen any kidnapping or suspicious activity nearby, but this could indicate that the perpetrators had simply been very good kidnappers. Ella could not remember whether her mother regularly took precautions like locking the door when going out for short trips, or carrying pepper spray or anything else that might assist her in such situations. There was no sign of forced entry into the house, but the family did keep a spare key in a plastic rock in the garden, which a well-prepared attacker could have located in advance, or Hailey might have left the door unlocked because she was home at the time. Ella could not altogether blame the police for writing the disappearance off as intentional on the part of Hailey, but she was very critical of how quickly they had dismissed any alternative possibilities. Sure, Hailey had no known enemies, and the attacker hadn’t stolen anything, but the scene was still very odd, and claiming Hailey had deliberately left the house and ending the investigation there seemed like a lazy way out at best, and incompetent at worst. Ella was devoted in her efforts to uncover the truth, but it was proving incredibly difficult to do so, especially considering how little resources and information she had at her disposal. Ella was ready to try something different today. Most of her investigation into the disappearance (or as she considered it, death) of Hailey Tremaine had involved scouring newspaper articles relating to the case, and doing research on the minds of criminals. Her lack of luck in discovering anything conclusive had led her to recreate the scene today, hoping she would notice something different than what she could make out from crime scene photos. She had preheated the oven and mixed up some cake batter. The exact number and kind of dishes in the sink as there were that day were there today, and even the newspaper on the table was opened in the same way as it had been that day. Ella leaned against the counter and looked between the crime scene photographs and the kitchen in front of her, making sure everything was in place. She had the feeling her recreation was not entirely accurate, but she wasn’t sure what she was missing. Unopened newspaper? Check. Three bowls, one plate and six forks in the sink? Check. Ella scratched her head, looking closely at the crime scene photos and trying to discern what in the world she could be forgetting. She turned the photos upside down, which did not help. She grew frustrated and threw down the photos onto the kitchen table, annoyed. She stepped over to the bowl of cake batter and reached for the spoon, holding it up to her mouth in preparation to eat some, then paused. Ella’s heart began to beat quickly and she dropped the spoon. She looked back at one of the photos, holding it close to her face, and then at the bowl again. Where in hell, Ella wondered, was the spoon? In the original photo, there was no spoon in the bowl, or whisk, or anything that could have reasonably been used to mix the cake batter. Ella checked the list of items in the sink, and confirmed there was no spoon or whisk there, either. Unless Hailey had decided to mix the batter with her hands, which Ella thought unlikely, there should have been a spoon or other mixing device somewhere in that room. Ella heard a knock at the front door and reluctantly walked over to open it. Jack was standing on the doorstep, and let himself in once Ella opened the door. “Finally,” Jack said. “I’ve been knocking for two minutes! You didn’t hear me?” “Sorry,” Ella mumbled. “I was distracted.” “Well, I know you said you had the house to yourself for a little while, so I thought I’d pop by--you’re making cake?” “No.” “Brownies?” Ella sighed. “I am trying to recreate the crime scene from the day my mother was killed.” Jack was sad to hear that. He tended to side with the police, having read through articles about the disappearance online. He wasn’t entirely sure of what had happened; nobody was, but he thought Ella’s obsession with the disappearance, while understandable, was unfortunate. “Where’s the spoon?” Ella interrupted Jack’s thoughts. “What?” “The spoon. In the photos from the crime scene, there’s no spoon in the batter. There’s no spoon in the sink. Where did the spoon go?” Jack sighed internally. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe it fell on the floor, and the police didn’t find it?” “After searching the entire house?” Ella questioned. “The killer stole that spoon. It’s the only way.” “Why?” “I don’t know! They probably wanted some memorabilia from the crime scene!” “Isn’t that a little risky?” “Not really. Who would take a second glance at a spoon?” “Yeah,” Jack muttered. “Don’t drive yourself too crazy with this, okay?” Ella sat down at the table, dejected. Jack never seemed to understand when she became involved with trying to figure out her mother’s death. “I know your birthday’s coming up,” Jack began. “Anything you’d like to do that day?” “No,” Ella muttered. “I’ll probably just be working.” “Why don’t you let me plan something out?” “Like what?” “Like… I don’t know. Anything other than sitting at home, being depressed. You can work during the day and we can do something in the evening.” Ella sighed. “All right,” she allowed. “But don’t expect me to be too happy about it.” Jack smiled. “Got it. How has work been, anyway?”

Ella launched into a retelling of the previous days, and how she had been hired to work at a mysterious, rich man’s house looking for a gardening supply thief after the son of the rich man had hit Lon’s car with his. “The guy’s a jerk,” Ella informed him. “Everything that comes out of his mouth is either rude, or crass, or both. I guess that’s how rich kids are, though. When they’ve always had everything they ever wanted, I guess no one bothers to teach them any manners.” “Well, you did slap him.” “Only because he deserved it! I had to defend myself. It was a preemptive strike.” Jack laughed. “You’d make a good politician,” he commented. “Although, maybe only in the Italian Parliament.” Ella rolled her eyes and smacked Jack upside the head. “Can we make cake now?” Jack asked sincerely. “Fine,” Ella allowed. Ella and Jack spent the afternoon talking and baking cake, but Jack could tell Ella was distracted with thoughts of her mother’s disappearance. It wasn’t unusual for her to behave this way around this time of year; the memory of her mother seemed especially strong for Ella, and she was particularly obsessed with the case. Still, Jack doubted it was healthy. Ella had to borrow Lon’s car to make the trip to Dave’s mansion, as she was doubtful as to whether her car would survive the drive. She dropped Lon off at the office and started the journey. As she drove, she was flooded with memories.

Ella’s father was very excited for his second wedding. His marriage to Lacey was abrupt, but friends and family largely didn’t fault him for it. He had found solace in the comfort Lacey provided him directly after Hailey’s disappearance, and he didn’t want that comfort to disappear. Lacey had made him feel whole again, and he didn’t feel the need to wait any longer to make the union official. Only a year and a half after Hailey had disappeared, Marc Tremaine married for the second time. It was a beautiful wedding. Ella’s father was wealthy, and he spared no expense when it came to the wedding. Lacey had requested a particularly extravagant event, and Marc was happy to comply. Lacey’s ring had been beautiful, even larger than the one he gave to Hailey. Of course, he was better-off financially when he proposed to Lacey than he had been with Hailey. Marc had no way of knowing that the ring would end up being the argument Lacey used to try and prove Marc loved her more than he had loved Hailey. Anastasia was a teenager when the wedding day arrived, and she stood tall as her mother’s maid of honor. Charlotte was disinterested by the event, as is common for young children. Ella cried throughout the entire ceremony. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t understand, at eleven years old, why she was crying, but she entirely lacked the ability to get her emotions under control, or to behave the way one would consider appropriate during such a generally joyous occasion. Ella watched her father, who was absolutely exuberant, promise his life to Lacey, ‘til death do us part.’ Ella sat quietly by herself in the grass while her family and father and stepmother’s friends ate and drank after the ceremony. She had no appetite, and wished to go home. She wanted the nightmare to end. She didn’t care how happy her father was, how elated he appeared for the first time in a very long time. She wished for it all to end. That day was the start of her depression, and she had no idea it was only the beginning of a long waking nightmare.