by Joy Fielding
It’s still amazing to me that Colin Friendly survived the attack, although I really shouldn’t be surprised. People like Colin Friendly always survive. It’s the innocent who perish. I read in the paper the other day that the Florida Supreme Court turned down his latest request for a stay of execution. If I remember correctly the things Jo Lynn told me, that would leave the federal district court, the U.S. Eleventh Court of Appeals in Atlanta, and the U.S. Supreme Court. It’s a long process. It could drag on for years.
My mother is in a nursing home now, and something of a celebrity, although she doesn’t seem to understand what all the fuss is about. She hasn’t spoken since that morning she took a club to Colin Friendly’s head, and I’m pretty sure she has no memory of the incident. I’m not even sure she knows who I am anymore, although she always looks pleased to see me when I visit.
Sara and Michelle often accompany me on these visits. Sara’s hair is back to basic brown, her wardrobe an eccentric combination of hooker and hippie. Michelle has discovered black. They’ve been staying pretty close to my side these days, which is normal considering what we’ve been through. I confess to loving this renewed closeness. I savor every minute, partly because I know it won’t last much longer. Several times lately, I’ve caught the whiff of cigarettes on Michelle’s breath, and heard the hint of impatience in Sara’s voice. I know they’re getting ready to resume their lives. I’m bracing myself, trying to prepare for this eventuality, knowing that whatever course they choose, it is out of my control. I can’t protect them forever. I can only tell them how much I love them.
Therapy has helped. Sometimes we all go together; sometimes we go individually. After years of listening to everyone else’s problems, I’ve rediscovered the joys of talking about my own. But it’s a long road back to normalcy, and I know it’ll take time. I’m only grateful we have that time. For people like Donna Lokash, that time is gone forever.
The police found Amy Lokash’s remains buried beside the day camp center in John Prince Park, exactly where Colin Friendly said they’d be, and they located his so-called goody box, filled with items belonging to each of his victims, all neatly labeled with the victim’s name and date of death. Nineteen in all, including a hair curler belonging to his mother and a silver cross that once hung around Rita Ketchum’s neck.
And so the police can now indisputably link Colin Friendly to the disappearances of six more women. Six more cases closed.
Incidentally, I just heard on the news that Millie Potton was found limping along the shoreline of Riviera Beach in her underwear, sunburnt and confused, but otherwise seemingly healthy. I’m glad. I was worried about her.
I think that’s everything. I’ll probably edit out some of the more personal revelations before I hand this over to the police. I’m not sure that any of this is what they were expecting. But I’ve tried to provide substance, context, explanations. I’ve searched my memory and bared my soul. I’m sure there are still some pieces missing. But I’ve done my best. Hopefully, it will be of some use.
At any rate, it’s time to pick up the pieces. And go on.
JOY FIELDING IS THE AUTHOR OF Don’t Cry Now, Tell Me No Secrets, See Jane Run, Good Intentions, The Deep End, Life Penalty, The Other Woman, Kiss Mommy Goodbye, Trance, The Transformation, AND The Best of Friends. A GRADUATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO. SHE LIVES WITH HER FAMILY IN TORONTO AND PALM BEACH.
Published by
Dell Publishing
a division of
Random House, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Title page illustration copyright © 1997 by Marcie Wolf-Hubbard
Copyright © 1997 by Joy Fielding Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Doubleday, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
The trademark Dell® is registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office.
eISBN: 978-0-307-57489-3
Reprinted by arrangement with Doubleday
v3.0
