My entire childhood, I tried to get others to see the darkness within Brian. It didn’t work. That was my only comfort when it came to the SCU girls; I couldn’t have done anything more to save them.
With Amber, it was different. Brian had hurt her before—hurt her more than she was even willing to admit—but that’s not why he killed her. For whatever reason, she got in his way. She became a roadblock in his path, and I put her there. He knew I’d talked to her, and that what she told me wouldn’t have been good. Even then, I’m sure he didn’t think I was on to his crimes at SCU. To him, I was dumb Della. He never imagined I’d be the person to out him. Still, Amber remained his only living victim. He needed to snuff out the one person who stood witness to his violence.
All I wanted to do was call Brian and ask him what he did to her. However, I’d been told to wait. So that’s what I did. Wait for a response. Wait for Mom to wake up.
“She’s not coming back,” I said.
“What do you mean she’s not coming back? Did you talk to her?”
I took a deep breath. “She’s not coming back because Brian hurt her.”
“Brian? What are you talking about?”
“You said he was out most of Saturday night. By Sunday morning, Amber was gone.”
“That’s a coincidence, honey. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I rocked in my seat, trying to regain the breath I’d lost crying. “I have to tell you something. It’s about the missing girls at SCU.”
Her posture turned stiff. She almost seemed frozen. “I asked Brian about that,” she said. “He said he didn’t know anything about it.”
I shook my head and blinked away tears. Brian was still playing different roles, pretending not to know about his own horrors.
“I thought it was weird he didn’t tell me,” I started, before sharing the rest. I tried to connect each piece directly, cutting through dramatics. I explained how Danny said Brian had volunteered to pass out pamphlets about the missing girls, proving he must know something. I told her about my timeline; Brian was on campus when each girl went missing. I told her I’d seen Brian arguing with Mila over Christmas break. I told her about my conversation with Amber. That Becky’s stabbed body had been found this weekend.
“And then I found these in Brian’s room,” I said. I slid over the Ziploc bag that contained the bundle of IDs. We didn’t need to add more DNA for the forensics team to sort out.
Mom had never been this quiet. She didn’t argue with anything I said. She wanted me to finish. She still didn’t speak when she picked up the bag, but I could see tears in her eyes.
“What are these?” she asked, her voice shaky and weak.
“The IDs of all the girls who’ve been reported missing.” I bit my lip, trying to remain strong. “I think he’s been storing them here. That’s why he’s been coming home.”
“Are you accusing Brian of hurting these girls?”
I’d expected this. Brian was her golden boy. I’d always been afraid of Brian, and yet even I’d struggled to believe he was capable. I’d wanted to be wrong. But I knew I wasn’t.
“Yes, Mom.” I knew it was important to eliminate any wriggle room. “I think he hurt them. Why else would he have their IDs hidden in his room?”
“There could be tons of reasons,” Mom said, dropping the bag on the table. She didn’t even take the time to look through and see each name. Each face. “Maybe they belong to someone else. Maybe he knew these girls.”
“I think it goes beyond that.”
“It doesn’t mean he hurt them,” Mom said, her arms crossed. “Maybe he was helping them. Almost all of them are still gone.”
“The one who was found had been murdered.”
“Listen to what you’re saying, Della,” she said. Now she was angry. “You’re accusing your brother of murdering a girl.”
“I know.” I looked down, wishing more than ever Dad was here to help. “You know Brian has had issues—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” Mom pushed her chair away from the table but remained seated. “You two have had this rivalry for years. But this? This is a whole new low, Della.”
“I’m not making this up.” I knew she saw the proof. She was pretending not to see.
“What type of sister is quick to believe such horrible things about her brother?”
“I’ve been wrestling with this for days.”
“And now you think he’s hurt Amber? Our neighbor. Your friend.”
“Amber knew things about Brian. Things he wouldn’t want her sharing with anyone.”
“That doesn’t mean he’d hurt her! You’ve been conducting this silly investigation. Why don’t you just talk to him? He’s your brother.” She stood and walked into the kitchen. She rummaged through the junk bowl. “Where is my phone?”
“You can’t call him, Mom. It’s too late.”
She turned around, her pupils dilated and wild. “You took my phone?”
“Yes.”
She marched over to where the landline charged, but I’d moved it, too. She let out a hurried breath, like she was being chased. “What do you plan on doing, Della?”
“I plan on doing the right thing.”
She ran over to the table, but I’d already grabbed the Ziploc bag and was holding it tight in my hands. Mom panicked.
“We have to talk to Brian,” she said. “I know he wouldn’t be involved in something like this.”
I’d considered all weekend what I would say to Brian. Did I owe it to him, as his sister, to give him a warning? But that would just play into his manipulations. It would provide him time to create excuses, concoct a convincing version of events.
Watching Mom’s reaction hurt, but nothing compared to the pain those girls must have gone through. The pain six other families were currently experiencing. Seven, including Amber’s family. They were still searching. We had answers. Those families deserved to know
