Page 2 of Into The Rabbit Hole

It was funny. And comforting. This plan couldn’t have gone better, even their mishaps were working in theirfavor.

His years of waiting were paying off dramatically, and finally he was beginning to feel some form of justice. It would never help with his loss, but it wassomething.

He could still remember the day when his mother was taken away fromhim.

That was always clear in his mind, as if it had only justhappened.

He sat back in his chair and rested his head against the padded leather of its back. Images of his mother flooded his mind. Images of her life. Images of herdeath.

Next month would be twenty years since she was taken from him. Twenty longyears.

She’d never had justice, never even had a proper funeral. Her family never got the chance to lay her to rest properly and say their goodbyes. She deserved so much more thanthat.

The day she died would always be burned in hismemory.

He’d just turned seventeen and was studying extremely hard for his SATs. He was en route to going to Harvard to study medicine. He wanted to be asurgeon.

That day she came home in a heated fluster. He was in his room going over some mathematical equations when he heard her come home. She would normally call out to him when she arrived but that time she didn’t. It was him that had to go to her. He found her in her roompacking.

“Aaron, pack a bag quickly.” she stuttered when she sawhim.

Aaron. That was his name. He’d gone by so many names since then that Aaron just seemed like another alias. Another alias for that time in his life when he’d been the talented son of Rachel Dean and fallen marine KennedyBryce.

“We going on holiday?” he’d responded with narrowed his eyes, looking at her as if she’d cracked ajoke.

He remembered the deathly look of fear on her face as she looked back at him. That image of her piercing blue eyes and ashen skin would always be burnt into hismemory.

“Please, son, pack a bag. We need toleave.”

“Where are wegoing?”

“I… Aaron, just pack. Pack quickly.” There was a knock on their apartment door and she froze. He made a move to go open the door but she held up her hand and stoppedhim.

She shook as she stood before him, and shook even more when the person started pounding on thedoor.

“Rachel, open up. I know you’re in there.” It was Ben Vanderville. He’d met him a few times. Back then he was a powerful district attorney, trying to climb even higher up the ladder of power. His mother had been his secretary for over fiveyears.

“Come. It’s too late,” his mother said, beckoning tohim.

Like a child she grabbed his hand and swung her bag over her shoulder. They went to the back exit that led to the fire escape and practically ran down the stairs. He didn’t talk again until they were in the parking lot rushing towards his mother’sSUV.

“What’s going on,Mom?”

“Quickly, let’s get in the car.” She hurried him along. They managed to get into the car and pulled out of the complex. It was only then that her fear subsided. “Aaron, I need you to go to your grandmother’s and staythere.”

His grandmother lived in Washington and they were in L.A. She’d never sent him to his grandmother’s house by himself before. “Mom, what the hell is goingon?”

“It’s complicated,” she’d answered, keeping her eyes on theroad.

“What is? You just drag me out and tell me to go to Gram’s without an explanation? That makes no sense. I was busystudying.”

She glanced over at him and shook her head. “I’m so sorry, my boy, but please, you must go to your grandmother’shouse.”

He remembered that look of fear in her eyes, which increased tenfold, along with panic, as she looked up at the rearview mirror and saw a black Porsche followingthem.

That was when she started shaking and crying. That was the first time that he’d ever felt terrified, and the first time that he’d ever seen her look scared. His mother was a strong woman who wasn’t normally scared ofanything.

“Mom, please, tell me what’s going on,” he’dattempted.