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I knew we shouldn’t have snuck out, however when Aiden, Oliver and I overheard our parents talking about the case they were working on, the case my mother had forbidden the Naturals to work on, the one I heard her and my dad whispering about at midnight, we had to see what was going on.
“Yo, did you hear anything I said,” Aiden whispered to me, flicking my forehead.
“Yeah! I was totally listening,” I said back, fake enthusiasm.
“There is no chance she was,” Oliver said, and I glared at him.
“Ash, it’ll be fine. Chill, what's the worst that would happen,” Aiden said, and I just knew he read my emotions.
“Well I don’t really trust you Mr. Deception.”
“I’m wounded, Ashlyn.”
“Shush!” Oliver exclaimed. “They’re coming this way.”
“Our parents?” I asked, joining him at the lookout position.
“No, just some officers.”
“Guys, can we please do my plan,” Aiden whined.
“No.” Both Oliver and I whisper-shouted at once.
“Give me one good reason,” he said defiantly.
“The last time I followed one of your “plans” we ended up grounded for 3 weeks,” I said.
Before Aiden could come up with a rebuttal we were interrupted by an officer near us shouting.
“Hey! Agent Hobbes, come over here for a second.”
My stomach dropped at my mother’s name. Things with my mom have been less than good in the past few months. I was already technically on “thin ice” as she said after our conversation that my dad refuses to call a fight. I could hear her heels click as she walked over to the officer who was way too close to our hiding spot for my liking.
“Ashlyn come on,” Oliver said, pulling the back of my shirt and I realized he and Aiden had already started to run. Unfortunately, we didn’t get far before we ran straight into policemen.
“Hands where we can see them!”
Suddenly, we were surrounded, lights making my eyes squint. I slowly raised my shaky hands mirroring Aiden and Oliver. Then I heard the sound of heels clicking.
My mother.
Cassandra Hobbes.
One of the best profilers in the entire history of the FBI.
“Ashlyn Lorelai Hobbes, what on earth do you think you're doing here,” she demanded.
“Oof, full name, you’re dead,” Aiden whispered to me.
“Aiden,” my mother said sharply.
“Yes, Aunt Cassie,” he said with a charming smile only the son of Michael Townsend and Lia Zhang could pull off.
“Colorado what’s going on over there! We kind of have a DB right now,” Uncle Michael shouted.
“Your son,” Mom shouted back. I could hear multiple sets of footsteps come near.
“Stand down,” Mom told the officers.
“Ma’am, they trespassed and interfered with an active crime scene”
“I’ll deal with them. Go join the others and canvas the area,” she ordered.
“What the fuck,” Lia shouted, grabbing Aiden by the collar of the shirt.
“Mom, please,” he said, and I almost felt sympathetic until my dad came into view and gave me the worst look of disappointment ever.
“Ash…”
You didn’t want me to give Mom another reason to get mad at me. You don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. You don’t want me to change. You want me to grow and learn; however, also stay your baby girl.
I tried to avert my parents’ gaze by looking around at the others. Aunt Lia was lecturing Aiden while also fussing over him, and Uncle Michael was stepping back letting her take the reins. Aunt Celine was also lecturing Oliver while Aunt Sloane would occasionally cut in with facts and disappointing lines.
And I…
I was standing there watching my dad’s disappointment radiate off of him and my mom was trying not to explode.
“Get in the car, Ashlyn,” Mom exhaled, tone calm with rage.
“What about the case? We can’t just leave,” Aunt Sloane questioned.
“We have bigger things to worry about right now. I’ll get another team to work on it. McDaniels owes me a favor anyway,” Mom answered, not taking her eyes off me.
I could feel Dad come up behind me and put a hand on my back leading me to the car.
“You were supposed to be looking after your sister,” he said quietly.
“Dad–”
“Does she even know that you're gone?”
“She’s 12 she can take care of herself,” I said defiantly.
“That’s not the point, Ashlyn. The point is we asked you to do something. We trusted you to do something. And you completely defied that,” he said, almost sadly.
“I’m sorry.” My voice cracked near the end.
“Not now,” he said, and I knew that conversation wasn’t over yet.
Mom then came up behind me standing next to him.
“You could’ve been arrested or worse killed or kidnapped or raped? Who knows?” she said, anger bubbling up inside of her. I flinched at each one of her words.
“Mom, we were just trying to help,” I said softly.
“Help,” she echoed incredulously. “This was not help, this was an inconvenience for the Bureau and a lethal risk for you.”
“Right, because that’s all I am. An inconvenience. A problem for you to solve.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s kind of implied, Mom. Look in between the lines. Isn’t that what you're so good at? Isn’t that why you're a renowned FBI Agent? Isn’t that why you’re never home for Belle?” She flinched at the last part and I knew I hit a nerve.
She worked hard. I knew that. I also knew we were short on money. Government workers don’t have the best salaries, not even FBI Agents. You wouldn’t have guessed that looking at us though.
All my aunts and uncles have money from their families that helped them live on a government salary; however, as the grandchild of two deadbeats, one serial killer, and one kidnapped leader of a cult, we were completely on our own. The other Naturals would have gladly lent us money, but my mother is stubborn, so she just works herself into the ground instead.
I can’t remember the last time she was home for dinner.
I looked up and her face had a sad undertone, like she was done fighting for now.
I knew what would happen. She would reprimand me in the car, ground me, take my car keys, take my phone, and send me to my room. Then Dad would talk to her and she would come up and apologize to me 20 minutes later. Things would be good for about a week until we start to fight again.
It wasn’t that she was particularly predictable, it was that this had been happening over and over for the past 2 years.
We were still walking while I was snapped out of my own thoughts when I saw the bright yellow police-tape I had seen from a distance just minutes before. As we approached the crime scene, I eagerly looked over, trying to spot any details that I could use to prove to my mom that I was capable of helping her. Unfortunately, she shifted in front of me so I couldn’t see anything, until I did.
I saw three mutilated bodies, if you could call them that. Their skin was still red, unlike the ghastly white I had seen in photos. There were cuts all over in an intended pattern, and then a single gunshot wound to the head. And the smell was horrible. So horrible I couldn’t describe it.
Before I knew it I was vomiting in the bushes. I bent over, the sight of the dead bodies still flashing in my mind. I then felt a hand on my back.
“Let it all out, baby,” Mom said, rubbing my back with one hand, holding up my hair with the other.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry too. Don’t worry about it right now, just breathe.”
I had just gotten an apology out of Cassandra Hobbes. I almost laughed, or so I thought.
“What’s so funny, baby,” she asked, and I realized I actually laughed out loud.
“I can’t believe I got an apology out of The Cassandra Hobbes.”
“Hey, I apologize.”
“Genuinely?” I asked, raising an eyebrow or I tried to before I went right back to vomiting. She laughed a little and then sighed, continuing to rub my back. After a beat of silence, she spoke again.
“I love you baby. Even if I don’t show it.”
“Why Mom?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you so hard on me all the time? You’re never that hard on Belle.”
“Ashlyn,” she started, cupping my face in her hands. “I’m hard on you because you are so much like me it hurts. And it scares me. There are things that happened to me when I was a Natural that I never want you to go through, ever,” she said lovingly.
“And Isabelle isn’t my favorite,” she said, answering my question before I even asked.
“I love your sister,” she continued, “but she isn’t my favorite, nor are you. I love both of you equally. You just need different types of love. Your sister needs more support. You need more structure,” she said honestly.
“But sometimes I need support, Mom. I need your approval.”
“You never need anyone’s approval. No one’s opinion matters but yours. But I am sorry Ashlyn. I’m sorry I’ve been so hard on you. I promise you I will give you more support. I will always be here for you.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, baby. But you're still in trouble.”
“That’s fair,” I laughed, and she pulled me into a hug.