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Beau sat back and stared at the files for the longest minutes of her life while sweat trickled down her back.
Then he gathered them up, including the photograph, placed them back in the tin, and stood. “Come with me.”
Beau led her out the back of the building and across the yard to the burn barrel tucked into the far corner.
He stopped beside it and held out a hand.
“Lighter?”
Wordlessly, she dug into the pocket of her jacket and placed it in his palm.
Beau opened the first folder.
He touched the flame to the corner of the first page and dropped it into the barrel.
Felicity watched the fire catch.
One by one, Beau fed the contents of the ammunition tin to the flames.
Her notes.
Dates.
Addresses.
Evidence of her sins.
One by one, they burned.
The photograph was last.
Fifteen-year-old Katerina smiled stiffly at the camera, trapped forever beside the men who had used her.
Felicity watched the flames consume the photograph, curling the edges before devouring it completely. “Beau…” She blinked furiously.
“Katerina is gone.” Beau placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Come Monday, I want my chief deputy walking through those doors ready to kick ass.”
She drove away from the sheriff’s office, not having expected to leave a free woman. With the window lowered, cold November air rushed into the van. It stung her cheeks and dried the tears she’d refused to shed in front of Beau.
The ammunition tin sat empty on the passenger seat.
For years, she’d kept those files, unable to let them go.
A reminder of exactly who she was and what she was capable of.
Now there was nothing left but ash.
She should have felt lighter.
Instead, she felt untethered.
The past was gone.
Katerina was gone.
Only Felicity remained.
The realization should have brought relief.
