Page 44 of See Me

Unable to carry Serena, he had no other option. There were five, maybe six strides to the door, and grabbing the back of her chair with his good hand, he spun it around and began dragging it toward the doorway. He needed to get there before the flames did. He tugged and dragged, every jerk sending pain through his hand and his head.

He burst through the open doorway. Smoke and heat followed them out, and he knew he needed to get Serena a safe distance away from the smoke. He couldn't drag her through the field or the mud, and spotting gravel to the right, he went that direction, toward the other building. Behind them, the icehouse was nearly engulfed in flames; the sound rose in volume, magnifying the continued ringing in his ears. He kept moving, resting only when the heat from the fire began to diminish.

Serena hadn't stopped coughing, and in the darkness, her skin looked almost blue. He knew she needed an ambulance. She needed oxygen, and he still had to get her out of the chair. He saw nothing he could use to cut the rope, and he wondered if there might be something in the other building. Just as he started toward it, he saw a figure step out from the corner and move into firing position. The barrel of a gun reflected the fire...

The shotgun Margolis had mentioned, the one Manning had said might not even work...

Colin knocked Serena and the chair over and dove to block her in the same instant he heard the explosion. The shotgun had been fired from forty yards, pushing the maximum range, and Manning's aim had been high. The second shot was slightly more accurate. Colin felt the pellets tear through his shoulder and upper back, blood spilling. He went dizzy again, fighting to remain conscious as he blearily watched Manning start running for his car.

There was no way Colin could catch him. Manning's figure receded and there was nothing Colin could do. He wondered why it was taking so long for the police to arrive and hoped they'd catch him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a roar as fire suddenly mushroomed through the roof of the icehouse, alive and screaming, the sound almost deafening. Part of the wall exploded, sending burning pieces of wood and sparks in their direction. He could barely hear Serena crying through her coughs, and he realized they were still in danger, too close to the fire. There was no way Colin could drag her farther, but he could get help, and he forced himself to rise. He needed to get to a place where someone would see him. He staggered forward a few dozen steps, losing blood, his left arm and hand now useless, his nerve endings radiating agony.

By then, Manning had reached his car and Colin saw the headlights flash on. The Camry tore away from the curb, heading directly toward him.

And toward Serena.

Colin knew he couldn't outrun the car; no way he could so much as dodge it. But Serena was even more helpless, and Manning knew exactly where she was.

Gritting his teeth, Colin staggered forward as fast as he could, creating distance between him and Serena. Hoping Manning would follow him. Hoping Manning would flee. But the headlights remained aimed in Serena's direction. Not knowing what else to do, Colin stopped and began waving his right arm, trying to draw Manning's attention.

He flipped Manning the bird.

The Camry immediately veered away from Serena and toward Colin, accelerating and closing the distance. The icehouse continued to emit an eerie high-pitched shriek as fire consumed it. Colin staggered as fast as he could away from Serena, knowing he had only a few more seconds, knowing he was about to die. The car was almost upon him when all at once, the ground in front of him was bathed in another set of headlights racing up from somewhere behind him.

He barely saw the blur of Evan's Prius as it crashed into the Camry with ear-splitting force, pushing both cars toward the fire. The Camry smashed into the corner of the icehouse, the Prius bulldozing it forward. The roof of the building began to collapse as flames leaped farther upward, toward the sky.

Colin tried to rush forward, but his legs gave out. Blood continued to pulse from his wounds, and as he lay on the ground, he could feel himself growing dizzy again. He could hear sirens now, competing with the sound of the fire. He suspected they were too late, that he wouldn't survive, but that didn't matter to him. He couldn't take his eyes from the Prius, and he watched for the door to open or for the window to go down. Evan and Lily could escape the fire if they moved fast, but the chances of that happening were slim.

He had to get to them, and tried again to rise. Lifting his head nearly caused him to black out. He thought he saw swirling red and blue lights on the side streets and bright headlights moving closer. He heard panicked voices calling out for Serena and for him, and he wanted to shout at them that they should hurry, that Evan and Lily needed help, but all that came out was a raspy whisper.

He heard Maria then, heard as she screamed his name and reached his side.

"I'm here!" she cried. "Hold on! The ambulance is coming!"

Even then, Colin couldn't answer. Everything had begun to spin and images became disjointed, nothing making sense. In one instant, the Prius was swallowed whole by flames; when he blinked again, only half of the car was gone. He thought he saw the passenger door creak open, but there was too much smoke and there were no other signs of movement, and he couldn't be sure. He felt himself slipping away, darkness settling in, and in his last moment of consciousness, he prayed that the two best friends he'd ever known would somehow make it out alive.

EPILOGUE

April never ceased to surprise Maria. Though she'd grown up in the South and knew what to expect, there were always a few glorious days, perfect days, when it seemed as though anything were possible. Cloudless blue skies would greet green lawns that had been brown all winter, and everything would suddenly explode with color. Dogwoods and cherry trees and azaleas would burst into life throughout the city, while tulips sprang forth from carefully tended gardens. Mornings were cool, but the days would warm up as the sun rose bright in the sky.

Today was one of those ephemeral spring days, and as Maria stood on the carefully tended lawn, she could see Serena chatting animatedly with a group of people Maria didn't recognize, the smile on her face wide and joyful. Seeing her now, it was hard to believe that until recently, Serena had struggled to smile at all; she'd suffered nightmares about her ordeal for months, and when she'd looked in the mirror, she'd seen bruises and cuts Manning had inflicted while she'd been tied to the chair. Two of the cuts had left scars--one near her eye, the other on her jawline--but they were already beginning to fade. In another year, Maria doubted anyone would notice them at all, unless they knew exactly where to look. But that would also mean they would have to remember that horrible night, and with those memories there was always pain.

It had been two weeks before Detective Wright, along with a still recuperating Pete Margolis, had met with Maria and admitted that Colin had been right about everything. The remains of Atkinson's body were found in what was left of the burned-out icehouse. Ballistics testing eventually connected the bullet in Atkinson's head to the gun that had been in Lester's possession. The fire made it impossible to determine exactly when he'd been killed, though investigators suspected that it was around the time he'd vanished. They were able to determine that his body had been stored in a large, otherwise empty freezer in Dr. Manning's garage in Charlotte thanks to a few strands of Atkinson's hair found frozen to the sides. Research into Manning's bank accounts showed numerous cash disbursements, the numbers matching the amounts that had been transferred into Atkinson's accounts to pay his bills, and also confirmed the rental of the bungalow in Shallotte.

Lester's fingerprints had been found in Atkinson's car, and investigators had hoped that Lester would provide even more answers. It was not to be. After spending three days in the infirmary under constant supervision, he was evaluated by a psychiatrist and deemed fit to be returned to a cell, subject to frequent monitoring. Later that afternoon, Lester met with his attorney, who reported that Lester, though heavily medicated and shaken by the loss of his father, seemed fairly lucid. Lester agreed to be interviewed by detec

tives the following day, as long as his attorney was present. He was returned to his cell and finished the tray of food that had been brought to him. Video recordings indicated that guards checked on him every fifteen to twenty minutes, but Lester nonetheless managed to hang himself, using strips from the bedsheet that he'd tied together. By the time the guards found him, it was too late.

Maria wondered sometimes whether Lester had truly been an accomplice or was simply another victim of Dr. Manning's. Or maybe even both. Pete Margolis admitted after he woke from his coma that he was unsure who had shot him. Dr. Manning had called out, telling him to come in, but Margolis saw only a brief glimpse of a gun barrel poking through the gap in a closet door before he was hit. The only thing Maria knew for sure was that Lester and Dr. Manning were both dead, and neither would ever come for her again. But despite what they'd done to her and to Serena, she sometimes felt flashes of grief and pity for the Manning family. A young son who died in an accident, an older sister murdered, a mother long struggling with depression who committed suicide... She wondered who she would have become had those things happened to her, or had Serena died that night in the icehouse.

Glancing over her shoulder, she surveyed the crowd that had gathered on the lawn and silently counted her blessings. Her mom and dad were managing to keep their protective instincts in check, her job with Jill was hugely satisfying, and she'd used some of her severance package to refurnish her condo and buy a new wardrobe--and still had enough left over to start building a small nest egg. Last weekend, she'd even wandered into a camera shop and fallen in love with a wildly expensive UV lens. The water was warming, too, her paddleboard calling to her...

The wedding had been spectacular, though with Lily directing and stage-managing, Maria had expected nothing less. While Wilmington would always be home, Maria could see that Charleston definitely had its charms. Lily was ethereal in her wedding dress, a confection of floating satin, tiny seed pearls, and fragile lace. Evan had been dreamy-eyed as he stared at her during their vows at St. Michael's Church. The oldest religious structure in Charleston, it was the preferred wedding venue for the more aristocratic families of Charleston, but when Lily drawled, "Why, I simply can't imagine why anyone would want to be married anywhere else," she somehow made it sound logical and sincere rather than snobbish.

On that awful night, Lily had miraculously escaped unharmed. Evan had been less fortunate, however. He'd emerged with second-degree burns on his back and a couple of broken bones in his leg. He'd been in a cast for nearly two months and had only recently begun walking without a limp again, in part due to his new exercise regime. His workouts weren't quite up to Colin's standards, but he'd confided to Maria that he'd been putting extra work in on his arms and was hoping Lily would notice on their honeymoon to the Bahamas.

They'd both had angels on their shoulders. Maria believed that as she'd seen Lily and Evan emerge from the Prius, and though some people might laugh at the notion, she didn't care.

She knew.

Behind her, the wedding reception was in full swing, solemnity finally giving way to festivities. Lily had wanted the reception held at her parents' spacious second home on the banks of the Ashley River, and as far as Maria could tell, no expense had been spared. A palatial white tent glowed with elaborately strung lights, and guests were dancing on a parquet floor before a ten-piece band. The food had been catered by one of the finest restaurants in the city, and the spring flower arrangements were works of art. Maria knew she'd never have a wedding like this; it wasn't her style. As long as she had her friends and family--and maybe a couple of pinatas later for the younger guests--she would be happy.

Not that she was thinking of getting married in the near future. The subject had yet to come up, and Maria had no intention of asking Colin about it directly. In most ways, Colin hadn't changed at all. He'd tell her the truth, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear the answer. She might be inclined to hint if the opportunity presented itself, but even the thought of that sometimes made her nervous.

Colin had only recently managed to resume his workout routine, but he was sometimes frustrated he wasn't able to do the things he used to do, including MMA training. He needed at least another six months, the doctors insisted. The shotgun blast had torn through part of his shoulder muscle, leaving vivid scars and a weakness that might be permanent. He'd already undergone one operation on his hand, and another was planned in a few more months. The injury that concerned the doctors most, however, had been the skull fracture, and he'd spent four days in the ICU, near Pete Margolis.

Margolis had been the first one to speak to Colin when he regained consciousness.

"They tell me you saved my life," Margolis had said to him. "But don't think this changes anything about your deal. I'm still going to keep an eye on you."

"Okay," Colin had managed to croak out.

"They also tell me that Dr. Manning beat the crap out of you, and that Evan ended up being the one who finally took him out. I find that very hard to imagine."

"Okay," Colin said again.

"My wife said you came to check on me. Said you were polite, too. And that my friend Larry apparently thinks you're pretty smart."

His throat dry, Colin merely grunted this time.

Margolis shook his head and sighed. "Do me a favor and stay out of trouble. And one more thing." He finally cracked a smile. "Thank you."

Since then, Margolis hadn't dropped by to check on Colin even once.

Maria sensed Colin's approach and then felt his arm settle around her. She leaned into him.

"There you are," he said. "I was looking for you."

"It's so beautiful by the water," she said. She turned, slipping her arms around him.

"Maria?" he whispered into her hair. "Would you do something for me?" When she pulled back and looked at him quizzically, he went on. "I'd like you to meet my parents."

Her eyes widened. "They're here? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I wanted to talk to them first. See where we stand."

"And?"

"They're good people. I told them about you. They asked if they could meet you, but I said I'd have to check with you first."

"Of course I'll meet your parents. Why would you have to check with me?"

"I wasn't sure what else to say. I've never introduced them to a girl before."

"Never? Wow. That makes me feel pretty special."

"It should. You are."

"So let's go meet your parents. Since I'm so special and you're crazy about me and you probably can't imagine living without me. In fact, you just might be thinking that I'm the one, right?"

He smiled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Okay."

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Every novel presents its own unique set of challenges, and this novel was no different. As always, there are those whose help and support were invaluable to me as I worked my way through those challenges.

I'd like to thank:

Cathy, who remains a wonderful friend. She will always be dear to me.

Our children--Miles, Ryan, Landon, Lexie, and Savannah--for the joy they continually add to my life.

Theresa Park, my fabulous literary agent, manager, and producing partner, who is always there to listen to me and provide constructive advice when I need it most. I'm not sure where I would be without her.

Jamie Raab, my terrific editor, who works wonders with my manuscripts. We've worked together on every book, and I consider myself blessed not only because of her expertise, but because of her unwavering friendship.

Howie Sanders and Keya Khayatian, my film agents at UTA, who are not only exceptional at what they do, they're creative, intelligent, and fun to be around.

Scott Schwimer, my entertainment attorney, is one of the best friends I have in the world, and my life has been enriched by his presence.

Stacey Levin, who runs my television production company, is an amazingly talented individual, with great instincts and passion for her job. Thanks

also to Erika McGrath and Corey Hanley for their talents in the same areas. Larry Salz at UTA, my television agent, keeps the complex ship running as smoothly as possible. I appreciate all that you do.

Denise DiNovi, the producer of Message in a Bottle, A Walk to Remember, Nights in Rodanthe, The Lucky One, and The Best of Me, with whom I've been lucky to associate, has true-blue instincts. In working with her, I've always been the lucky one. And many thanks to Alison Greenspan as well, for all you've done with these memorable projects.

Marty Bowen, the producer of The Longest Ride, Safe Haven, and Dear John, for his excellent work, his creativity, his humor, and friendship. Our time together is always enjoyable. Thanks also to Wyck Godfrey, who works with Marty in everything they do.

Michael Nyman, Catherine Olim, Jill Fritzo, and Michael Geiser at PMK-BNC, my publicists, who are first-rate at their jobs, and have become close friends as well.

LaQuishe Wright--or Q--who handles all things social media related in my world, not only does incredible work, but is someone with whom I simply enjoy spending time. Mollie Smith handles my website, and without you both, it would be impossible to keep people informed as to all that's going on in my world.

Michael Pietsch, at the Hachette Book Group, deserves my gratitude for all he does to make my novels a success. I'm honored to work with you.

Peter Safran, the producer of The Choice, for his enthusiasm and knowledge, and for welcoming my team into your exciting world.

Elizabeth Gabler, who has unbelievable passion for what she does, and the talent and drive to make it work. The Longest Ride was a remarkable and beautiful film. Also, my thanks go to Erin Siminoff for her extraordinary commitment to making that project a success. I loved working with you both.

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