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He had, in fact, been cleared of any involvement in the drug trafficking. As to his other ludicrous claims, there was plenty of evidence, including Mara’s own testimony, to find him guilty by a unanimous jury verdict of torture, kidnapping, human trafficking and aggravated sexual abuse. Mara smiled grimly at the thought of Alex’s life sentence. Twenty life sentences wouldn’t be long enough.
Wallace was clearly still trying to bring his substantial wealth and still-considerable influence to bear in his efforts to wrangle reduced sentences for himself and his children, but it would be a long time before any of them would see the light of day beyond prison walls, and that suited Mara just fine. Mrs. Wallace had claimed no knowledge of “any improprieties” in her husband’s businesses, though Mara found that rather difficult to believe. At first Maryellen Wallace had been quite vocal about “standing by her man” but this article noted in closing that she had filed for divorce. Too bad she couldn’t divorce her children.
Mara pushed the paper away and closed her eyes, inviting peace to fill her senses. She breathed in deeply and let the air out slowly.
She was safe.
She was strong.
She was free.
Calmed, she opened her eyes and turned to watch the snow beyond the windows of her cozy home. It was covering the pine trees now, the mountains in the distance already capped with white. She thought about the civil suit that had been filed on behalf of all the girls held captive on the island. Though it was still in litigation and probably would be for a long time as Wallace’s attorneys put up roadblock after roadblock, Mara stood to receive a substantial sum for her pain and suffering, assuming the ruling was in their favor, which it almost certainly would be. While money would never erase what had been done to her, a few million dollars would certainly come in handy.
Her cell phone, resting on the table beside the paper, began to play a tune. Mara picked up the phone and swiped the screen. “Hey there, Esmé. Happy Thanksgiving. Is it snowing where you are?”
Esmé laughed into the phone. “Are you kidding me? It’s seventy degrees and sunny, with a high of eighty-eight expected. When are you coming down to sunny Florida to see me?”
Of all the girls, Esmé’s reunion with her parents had to have been the most poignant and heartfelt. Imagine believing your daughter had been killed, only to discover she was alive. Though none of them would ever entirely get over what had happened to them, Esmé was doing well, living at home with her parents in Florida and, while not yet working, moved each day a step closer to full recovery.
“Maybe by Christmas I’ll have had enough of the snow, and I’ll come down for a visit,” Mara replied. “I’ll send you a picture of the gorgeous view I’m looking at right now outside my window, and you’ll be the one wanting to fly up here.”
They talked awhile longer about nothing much with the easy camaraderie of good friends. “I wish Scarlett had made it,” Esmé said softly.
“Yeah,” Mara agreed, tears suddenly filling her eyes, regret sweeping through her that she hadn’t been able to do more for the girl. Scarlett had been the only one of the girls who hadn't been able to adapt to life after her year-long captivity on Pirate Island. Like Mara, she had no family to speak of, and apparently had sought comfort and escape in the drugs she’d used before her abduction. A month after Mara had left the clinic, she heard Scarlett had been found slumped against a dumpster behind a strip club, dead of an overdose.
As Mara hung up the phone, she thought about Raeanne, with whom she’d also kept in close touch since their time on the island. Raeanne had resettled in her home state of Georgia and was working toward a master's degree in psychology at the state university in Atlanta.
She had reconnected via Facebook with a guy from high school she’d always had a secret crush on. “I’m crazy about him,” Raeanne had confided in a recent phone conversation. “He’s incredibly supportive about what I’ve been through, but it doesn’t define us as a couple, you know? We’re about the present and the future. He makes me so happy.” She had invited Mara to be the maid of honor in their upcoming wedding, and Mara was looking forward to it, assuming she could get the time off from her new job as general manager at a high-end resort spa located in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
“Wow, I can’t believe I slept this late. Yum, what smells so good?”
Mara turned to the sound of Wes’ voice, her heart leaping like the flames of the fire. He was shirtless, wearing only pajama bottoms, his face creased with sleep. She stood as he approached her, happily allowing herself to be wrapped in his big, warm bear hug.
