I didn’t want to wait for them to burn in Hell.
Hell. She’d been living in it for nearly two years, but now it was over.
She sat against the headstone that read Shannon Marisa Chase, 1988–2005.
Across from Shannon’s grave was a smaller one, for an infant: Camilla Christina Chase, October 12, 1986–April 13, 1987.
Tomorrow marked the twentieth anniversary of Camilla’s death. Six months old and died in her crib. The doctors said it was sudden infant death syndrome. Laura knew different.
For years she’d suppressed the guilt. It had been an accident. No one knew, not even Tom. Shannon, perfect Shannon, was Laura’s chance to make everything right again.
She closed her eyes. Took out the bottle of pills she’d stolen from Garrett long ago. Swallowed them two by two.
Two by two.
Two by two.
Her head spun, but she kept taking the pills. She felt heavy. Heavy. Of course, they would put her to sleep. Forever.
But Shannon was dead. Vengeance, perhaps, for Laura’s own sins.
Connor sat with Julia as she woke from surgery. “You’re back.”
“How long?”
“You skipped a day. It’s Thursday morning.” He glanced at his watch. “Five-fifteen.”
“Wow. I didn’t think—Did Michelle fall over the railing?”
“Michelle’s dead. So is Laura Chase. They found her body near the grave of her daughters. Suicide.”
“I could almost feel sorry for her.”
“Dillon said Laura Chase was psychotic. She snapped. She managed to hold it together for a while. There’s a twisted logic to all the victims. Except for Paul Judson. Dillon thinks he was a test, to bind the four kids to a common goal, as well as keep them in line.”
“Skip, Robbie, Michelle, and Faye.”
“Tristan Lord accessed his uncle’s files and learned the identity of all his online patients. Then it was just a matter of matching up the so-called anonymous e-mails with real people.”
“Like Emily.” Julia frowned. “Michelle’s parents were of modest means. How did she hop back and forth from Palo Alto and San Diego? How did she live?”
“Will’s still digging into the finances and timeline, but the penthouse apartment Michelle lived in was paid for by Laura Chase. In the divorce, the Chases split a substantial pot of money. Laura changed her identity and bought the house near Garrett Bowen. There’s evidence that Michelle had a room there as well as the apartment.”
“Maybe to keep the act going, that ‘Cami’ was ‘Marisa Wohler’s’ daughter.” Julia reached for Connor’s hand and he squeezed it, bringing his lips down to her fingers. She asked, “All this in an elaborate plan to kill Garrett Bowen because he helped Tristan’s mother commit suicide and testified for Jason Ridge. It’s amazing that Laura Chase and Tristan hooked up in the first place.”
“Not that amazing,” Connor said. “E-crimes is still putting together a timeline of Wishlist and it looks like Michelle O’Dell was on the list long before Shannon committed suicide.”
“She said something that disturbed me,” Julia said. “She said she drugged Jason so he’d hurt Shannon, thinking they’d break up. She thought it was all one big game.”
“Michelle was one sick young woman.”
“Sick? No. She knew exactly what she was doing and she enjoyed it.” Julia paused. “Maybe James and Stephanie Ridge would like to know their son had been drugged. Give them some closure.”
“Will is going to be talking to them and the O’Dells,” Connor said.
He took Julia’s hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s over.”
“Emily can come home now?”
Connor nodded. “She’s coming back from Montana with Carina on Sunday. I hope that’s okay. She seems to be having a good time up there, and you need a couple of days to recuperate before a teenager moves in.”
“I’ll call her later. Thank you.”
Connor played with her palm. “Are you really okay?”
“Just tired. And sore.”
“I can get you some pain medication—” He started to rise.
She squeezed his hand. “No. Stay.”
He sat back down. “I was worried. You lost a lot of blood.” His voice cracked.
“Did you mean what you said at the studio?”
“I always mean what I say.” He stared at her. “I love you, Julia.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“Don’t cry,” he said.
“I’m not. I just—I was worried about the past. What I did to your life.”
“We don’t live in the past, Julia.” Connor leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips. She was still too pale, but time, sun, and lots of love would bring back her old self.
“We were both in a different place then,” Connor said. “We were both right, and we both made mistakes. In the end, though, the dead girls were avenged through the system, not outside of it. And that was the right thing to do, even if it hurt like hell at the time.”
“I think I’ve always loved you,” Julia said, her emerald eyes bright with emotion. “Do you think we can find happiness?”
Connor kissed her again. “As long as we’re together.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to everyone who helped with the details of this book, especially Candy Calvert, CJ Lyons, Gary “Officer Friendly” Tabke, Donna Thompson, Wally Lind, and most particularly, a special thanks to Mary Kennedy for her insight into the minds of teen killers.
Because sometimes I need to get out of the house to find my muse, a special thanks to Starbucks #5557 and the Elk Grove Brewery.
And the usual suspects: Kimberly Whalen, Charlotte Herscher, and Dana Isaacson; Dan and the kids; and always my mom.
I invite you to visit my website at allisonbrennan.com to read exclusive content, deleted scenes, and view book trailers for this and my other books.
Also by Allison Brennan
THE PREY
THE HUNT
THE KILL
SPEAK NO EVIL
See No Evil Page 32
