“What is it?” my dad asked now. Everyone was staring at me. Tense. Fearful.
“They found John Myers,” I said. “He’s dead.”
“What?” Amanda gasped.
“No way!” my dad shouted.
“Holy shit!” Lila covered her mouth.
“Hell yeah!” Ethan grinned.
My eyes moved to Grandma.
Her fingers twitched against the armrest of the wheelchair. Small movements but frantic. The only ones her body allowed. Then her lips curved. Not wide. Just that half smile on the right side of her face.
Then a tear rolled down her cheek.
I leaned over and put my arm around her shoulders.
“It’s over, Grandma,” I said, pulling her closer. “That monster is finally dead.”
The Christmas tree lights kept blinking behind me. The room smelled of cookies. People were mumbling and gasping. Yet, for the first time in years, the house felt quiet in a different way.
“Is your grandma there? Did she hear the good news?” Nolan asked as Amanda started crying.
My dad pulled her into his arms to comfort her. Lila and Ethan mumbled excitedly while Elizabeth and Markus looked lost and confused.
It was a scene of chaos.
In all the best ways.
The faces of the people I loved looked like they had just woken from a long, heavy nightmare. Like their lives could finally resume, free from the monster of our past. The worst chapters of our lives were finally closing with a dull thud.
“Hello?” Nolan asked again.
“Sorry. Yeah, my grandma knows. She’s here.”
Silence hung on the other end for a moment.
“Good,” he finally said. “Tell her I’m happy for her.”
“I will.”
“Did … he ever reach out to you?” Nolan asked out of the blue.
“Who? Myers?” I asked back, even though I knew exactly who he meant.
“Yeah.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing.”
My turn. “Do you know anything about what happened?”
“No. I told you all I know. The AG wants this to go away quietly to avoid any more lawsuits against the State. Harlow is being shut up now that his last lifeline is gone. There won’t be much digging. It all points to a fight between scum at the Seacoast Inn. That shithole had two shootings in the last six months alone. Both deadly.”
“You said he was shot?” I asked.
“Yeah. Around Thanksgiving.”
