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“I know. I remember getting and hiding the letter.”
“He left town as soon as he was released. I have a couple guys looking for him.” I pull her closer until her front is plastered to mine and only inches separate our faces. “You don’t need to worry about him, but I still want you to be cautious.”
She nods.
“There’s something else,” I say cautiously.
“Whisper.” She says the name so low I barely hear it.
It’s been years since the name was used in her presence. I purposely didn’t say it around her because I wasn’t sure how she would react. I’m mildly surprised she remembers it.
“He sent the box. The one with the clothes.”
I nod, the muscle in my jaw twitching. “Yes. I’ve been on his trail. I’m so fucking close, baby.”
She stares over my shoulder as her brows drop and a wrinkle forms between them. Something dark and painful fills them when they return to me.
“He was there that night.”
I suspected as much, but I wasn’t sure until she confirmed it. I would have known for sure if I had watched the thumb drive in its entirety.
“He’s the one who,” another pause, “killed them. I didn’t remember until my memories came back tonight. I couldn’t see his face because he was wearing a mask like the others, but his was different.”
After the attack, Cat’s memories were splotchy. The doctor claims she blocked out certain details of the incident because it was too traumatic, so she only remembered bits and pieces.
We always believed Terry was the one who killed my children. It’s what he, Henry, and Howard told police and claimed in court. Why in the fuck would Terry admit that, knowing it would add more to his sentence? What was the purpose of keeping Whisper being there a secret? He was just as guilty as the others because he gave the order, but his actual presence and participation in the killing made him even more responsible.
The thumb drive.
He sent it, knowing I would watch it. But I didn’t. Not all the way through. I stopped because I would have killed someone if I hadn’t. Didn’t matter who. I just needed to feel blood on my hands.
Having this confirmed changes nothing. Except for the amount of pain Whisper will feel.
As soon as I get a chance, I’ll watch the thumb drive all the way through, even if it kills me. Maybe there will be a clue as to who the bastard is, and I can finish this once and for all.
ChapterThirty-Three
Caterina
“Mom, I swear I’m okay,” I say, pulling back from her. “At least right now I am,” I add, because there’s no telling if that may change.
Athena and Scarlett are constantly in my head, tempting me to let them out. So far, I’ve held them back. What worries me more is the darkness. That darkness, a place I can go to and forget about the pain, is far more tempting.
I can barely breathe when I think about the horrors Eliana and Ryder endured. The pain I feel consumes every part of me, body and mind. But I don’t want to forget them again. Forgetting that part means forgetting all the good too. Every minute I spent with them, except for the hours we all endured hell, was precious and special to me. I wouldn’t trade any of those moments for anything. Even if it means facing my demons every day.
Mom looks at me the way moms look at their daughters when they’re looking for lies or hidden meanings. I keep my expression as relaxed as possible, not wanting her to see the worry I constantly feel.
I guess I succeed, because seconds later, she nods and smiles. “Okay.”
Dad steps up when she lets me go. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask how I am. Just gives me a tight hug and says in my ear, “Don’t let her get to you, sweetheart. You know she just worries.”
With a smile, I kiss his cheek and pull back.
When we turn to enter the living room, I find Mom standing in front of one of the pictures on the wall. Since the pictures we originally had hanging on the wall years ago were destroyed, we had others printed. I wanted to fill every inch of space with pictures of our children and family, but I limited it to a few. There are also some on the entertainment center by the TV and a few on the end tables. We have more on our nightstands and on my dresser upstairs. It hurts every time I see them, but they also make me happy. For so long, I’ve kept their memories locked away.
I walk up to Mom, who has her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I rest my head on her shoulder and look at the picture. It’s a black and white picture of Hunter lying on the couch in my parents’ house with baby Ryder tucked in his arms against the back of the couch. I’m lying between his legs on my side, my head on his lower stomach with my hand resting on Ryder’s back. On the other end of the couch, Eliana is leaning against the arm with her legs tossed over mine and Hunter’s. All four of us are asleep. The picture was taken right after we had Thanksgiving dinner.
“I woke up with a crick in my neck from how I was sleeping,” I say quietly, tracing my eyes over every inch of my beautiful children’s faces. “But it was one of the best naps I ever had.”
