Whispers of the Turning Seasons (part 17)

Silence filled the sheriff’s office like a living thing.

Evelyn stared at the photo on the desk—
the woman who’d haunted her for days holding her like a daughter.
The child standing beside her.
A family portrait that should not exist.

“This isn’t possible,” Evelyn whispered, voice fractured. “I don’t… I don’t remember them. I don’t remember this.”

Rowan stood close, not touching her, but steadying her with his presence.

“Memory can distort,” he said carefully. “Especially childhood trauma.”

Evelyn shook her head violently.

“No. This isn’t distortion. It’s erasure.”

The word hung in the air.

Rowan frowned. “Erasure?”

Evelyn pressed her palms against her temples, shaking.

“There are gaps,” she said. “Huge ones. Missing years. Missing faces. Every time I try to remember anything before I was nine, it feels like—like something pulls me away.”

Ellis approached slowly, arms crossed, studying her.

“Evelyn,” she said gently, “do you think someone intentionally hid your early memories?”

Evelyn looked up.

Tears streamed down her face.

“My mother.”


---

3:10 PM — A Decision

Ellis sat down at the desk, pulling the photo closer.

“We ran the image through enhancement,” she said. “The child—he looks around four or five. The woman appears in her early twenties. If the timeline matches your age…”

Rowan finished the thought:

“…this photo could be from when you were three or four years old.”

Evelyn’s breath caught.

“That would have been right before the cabin fire.”

Ellis nodded.

“And right before you were taken by the state for a short period.”

Evelyn turned to her sharply.
“Why was I taken?”

Ellis slid a paper toward her.

“After the fire, your mother was found unconscious. The report said she had ‘inconsistent statements and potential injuries related to physical struggle.’ You were missing for 48 hours.”

Evelyn froze.
“What?”

Rowan leaned forward. “Missing where?”

Ellis tapped the photo.

“With them.”

Evelyn stared at the woman in the photo.
The sharp jaw.
The cold eyes.
The familiar, haunting smile.

“She took me,” Evelyn whispered. “She took me from the fire.”

The memory hit suddenly—
a shadowed figure lifting her from the ground, running into the night.
A child’s hand gripping hers.
A lullaby in the dark.

Evelyn gasped, clutching the edge of the desk.

Rowan reached for her.
“Evelyn—what do you see?”

“A cabin,” she breathed. “But not the one that burned. A different one. Smaller. Hidden. She kept me there. She kept me safe… until…”

Her voice faltered.

“Until someone came.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Who?”

But the memory dissolved again—
like fog slipping through her fingers.


---

3:26 PM — The Breaking Point

The door burst open.

A deputy rushed in, breathless.

“Sheriff—outside. You need to see this now.”

Ellis stood quickly. “What happened?”

“It’s… well, it’s better if you see it.”

Rowan glanced at Evelyn.
“You okay to walk?”

She nodded, though she could barely feel her legs.

They stepped outside.

And there—
on the hood of Rowan’s patrol car—
lay another envelope.

Snowflakes collected softly on its surface.

Rowan snatched it, tearing it open.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

A hand-drawn map.

A cabin marked with an X.
And written beneath it in jagged handwriting:

“YOU LEFT US ONCE.
DON’T DO IT AGAIN.”

Evelyn staggered back.

Rowan caught her.

“Evelyn,” he said firmly, “breathe. You’re not alone this time.”

Evelyn shook her head.

“You don’t understand.”
Her voice cracked.
“That map… I know exactly where that cabin is.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “How? You told us you don’t remember—”

“I don’t,” she whispered.
“But my body does.”


---

3:40 PM — The Drive Begins

Rowan insisted on coming.
Ellis insisted on backup.

Evelyn insisted on one thing only:

“You can’t bring a full team. She’ll run. Or hide the child.”

Ellis considered this, then finally nodded.

“One car," she allowed. “Rowan drives. I follow with two deputies. No flashers. No radios unless necessary.”

As they drove through the silent forest roads, Evelyn’s hands shook in her lap.

The snow deepened.
The trees thickened.
And the sun dipped lower, painting the forest in a red, fading glow.

Rowan kept his eyes on the road.

“When you look at that woman,” he asked suddenly, “what do you feel?”

Evelyn hesitated.

“Fear,” she said.
“Recognition.”
A beat.
“Love.”
Another beat.
“And hatred.”

Rowan exhaled slowly.

“That’s a complicated mix.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But it’s all true.”


---

4:02 PM — The Cabin in the Pines

The forest opened into a clearing.

A small cabin stood alone, half-buried in snow, smoke drifting faintly from the chimney.

Rowan’s grip tightened on the wheel.

“She’s here.”

Evelyn knew it too.

The cold outside wasn’t what chilled her.
It was the feeling—
the same feeling she’d had as a child—
of standing at the edge of something forbidden.

They stepped out.

The air was silent.
Too silent.

Ellis and the deputies remained behind the treeline, waiting for Rowan’s signal.

Evelyn took a single step toward the cabin—
and the front door creaked open.

A small figure stood in the doorway.

A child.

The boy.

His eyes were dark, ancient, empty yet overflowing.

He stepped outside slowly—
snow crunching beneath his small boots—
and whispered:

“Mommy?”

The world stopped.

Rowan stared at the child, horrified.

Ellis froze behind the trees.

Evelyn felt her heart rip open.

“No,” she whispered, stumbling forward. “No, I’m not— I can’t be—”

But the boy lifted something in his hand.

A tiny wooden shape.

A music box.

The same one sent to the station.

He held it out to her.

“It’s yours,” he said softly. “You left it behind… when you left us.”

Evelyn’s breath shattered.

“I don’t remember you,” she whispered, tears falling uncontrollably.

The boy smiled sadly.

“That’s why she’s angry.”

He looked toward the trees behind the cabin.

And then Evelyn heard the voice.

Soft.
Cold.
Familiar.

“Welcome home, Evelyn.”

The woman stepped out of the shadows.