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I’m glad that, even if events hadn’t unfolded as they did, Cam would’ve been the one to close the cases—that she’d avenge her death in the end.
Detective Vale made the match to the pre-ejaculate on Cam’s dress to Torrance.
There is no such thing as a perfect murder.
Torrance Carver was apprehended at the Dock House the morning of his and Drew’
s attack on me. While I was being rushed to Silver Lake Memorial, Detective Dutton and the Leesburg PD discovered Torrance hiding in the kitchen cooler of the Dock House.
It’s far less dramatic than I imagined for his ending.
But it’s realistic, and now Torrance is incarcerated and awaiting trial, to be judged by a jury. With definitive proof of his crimes, Rhys and I are sure the state of Florida will get the maximum for his sentence.
As for Drew, one bit of evidence was able to tie him to the crimes. The picture the ME took of my scars. Dr. Keller matched those images to the other murders. Same murder weapon. Drew had carelessly dropped the knife in the lake, and Torrance had retrieved it. Using the same weapon to brutally murder Joanna Delany, to replicate the first murder he witnessed.
Then, of course, there was my statement.
Andrew Abbot was dredged from the lake, pronounced dead at Silver Lake Memorial…just a few rooms down from where I was being operated on.
When I think about Drew, I don’t envision him on a gurney, or in a casket. I see him floating in dark water, lotus stalks encasing his body.
An eerie role reversal for victim and killer. Instead of me—my death—at the bottom of the lake, my killer found his fate. It’s the kind of macabre irony that leaves me feeling numb.
Even now, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Drew. What he stole from me. The level of vindictive selfishness that turned a college professor into a killer.
But I have come to a point of acceptance. I had thought that, when I left Silver Lake the first time, I was saving myself, starting over. I believed I had accepted my circumstances—that I could endeavor to be like the leaves of the lotus and cleanse myself of the filth from my past.
The truth is, I was trapped. It might have been Drew that put me in the lake, and Torrance’s pathology played a part, but it was my fear, my shame, that kept me at the bottom.
The lies we tell ourselves are the hardest to see.
Although Rhys always suspected Drew of my attempted murder, there was never any hard evidence. The timeline didn’t match up, and the circumstantial evidence wasn’t strong enough. When people deem to keep secrets, the truth is difficult to uncover. That is, until one peg is jarred loose.
All it takes is one person to speak out, and the house of lies crumbles.
Cam’s admission may have come too late for her, but by finally admitting the truth, all the other puzzle pieces started to align.
I did attend her funeral. I did meet her husband and their infant baby girl. Her name is Calliope.
Every person played a part in my crime. Whether they were an active participant, or simply selfish, or passive, like Chelsea, who is now a victim in her own right, left behind to carry the weight of Drew’s shameful legacy.
Every person from my past did, somehow, play a part—and if they were judged deserving of a punishment from a higher power, they’ve now answered for their sins.
The murder board has been erased. The book is finished.
Newest case file in hand, I pad to where Rhys is transcribing an interview. His laptop rests on his lap as he pecks at the keyboard, his socked feet propped on the table.
I sit beside him and open the file. After my case was closed, Rhys wondered if I was done with my hunt for justice within the cold case division. And I’ll be honest, I did take a moment of pause. I could go back to school, complete my degree. Become a psychologist.
My answer to him: I reached into my box of files and plucked out the Lowenstein case.
Rhys’s response: the rare gift of his smile that I savor just for myself.
Soon after we took on the case, I left Missouri, which wasn’t too difficult a choice. I had never created a life for myself there. So I packed Lilly and my belongings and flew to Arlington to be with the man who pulled me from the water.
Rhys is my home.
He halts typing mid-sentence and removes his earbuds, a serious expression etching his face. “Did you throw it away?”
