"Where are you taking us?" I talked to the back of Leighton's head as he swerved other cars on the road and drove above the speed limit. "Why did we do that? We just abandoned him, left him behind to fight on his own!"
"Ms Barnes," he answered in a cool, calm and collected type of voice, "I'm trying to listen to the voices down my earpiece. Please be quiet."
I shuffled forward on my seat and held onto his headrest. "We left him behind Leighton, we have to go back and get him. Turn the car around."
"Ms Barnes!" He repeated, more sternly this time. "Mr Johnston is no longer the priority, he can protect himself and has men situated on call with him. We must proceed with the correct orders, getting you and the little miss as far away from here as possible."
I sat back in my chair and glanced over at my daughter. She was watching me carefully, having no clue what all the kerfuffle was about.
"Is River bringing my toys?" My eyes softened on her, she was probably never going to get those toys.
"We'll come back for them." I promised.
Leighton drove us through a winding road center of a pine tree forest. Miles of evergreen hills creating an artwork to this beautiful canvas. A charmingly carved sign that read 'Johnston Estate' was placed in our path. It was showing its age with chipped edges and faded paint but still stood strong.
This was his house.
The very same house where he lived with his family as a young boy. The house that held the tragic tale his life transpired from.
Sadness and stillness echoed all around here, the centuries settled foundations blossomed above ground as if grown from seed. Ivy's clung to the brickwork and wrapped around extravagant pillars, all overgrown and uncared for. In places, moss grew through the concrete and sing-song tunes escaped from the birds nesting in the roof.
Although structurally maintained, this house wasn't visited often. It wasn't loved.
The car engine stopped rumbling and I grabbed Everly's hand before exiting the car. Pine needles gathered beneath my feet, a mountain of them making the ground soft and squishy.
I fleeted my vision up at the house, it was gigantic and hauntingly beautiful, illuminated gold by the falling sun.
"Careful with the thorns." Leighton instructed as he guided us past the wild-growing rose bush and through the main entrance.
The interior smelt untouched, like dust and trapped air. A rainbow of brown from the old floorboards led the way and creaked beneath our feet as we walked.
Skeletons of his old life still remained, the sofa - probably once a loving family gathering place, now hidden beneath thick white dust sheets.
Glasses with lipstick stains still sat on the side, half filled with maroon wine but gone untouched for years, ruined by the dirty air.
Nobody bothered to clean out this place.
"Look momma." Everly picked up a plushy sloth by the nose and smiled. The thing needed a good wash but she was content, already building up storylines for this sloth.
I inched closer to the patio doors, barely able to watch the sun set from the wilderness of the gardens but in the distance a rustic swing hung from one of the tree branches, swaying ever so lightly in the wind.
Leighton pressed his ear piece and spoke, "Mr Johnston is on his way, inform all necessary parties."
"He's on his way?" I practically pounced across the room towards him, "Where is he? Can I speak to him?"
