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Although I’m impatient, I pull his latest picture from my shirt pocket and press it against the glass. It’s of Banjo fetching a stick from the lake earlier in the week. He’s mid-swim and smiling around the stick in his mouth. Every visit, I bring a new picture of him, the first being the day I adopted him from the animal shelter after Shepherd dumped him.
Rowan’s eyes light up.
“He’s doing great. Getting really, really good at swimming. Honey, we need to talk, please. Now.”
Rowan nods, and I slide the picture back into my pocket.
She takes a deep, shaky breath. “Do you remember the story you told me that night at The Cliff? Of your brother, Jack, and the night he died from an alcohol overdose?”
“Yes.”
“You said: If I had intervened, would he still be alive? If I had addressed his mental illness, would he still be alive? You talked about your loyalty to him and how, with family, nothing should be off-limits. That’s how I felt when I realized what Shepherd was doing. I blamed his mental illness—not him—and I blamed myself for not taking better care of his medication. That loyalty, that guilt, the mental illness, everything, that’s why I chose to help my husband. I was brainwashed, I realize that now, and again, I don’t expect you to understand.”
I’d figured as much. “I understand,” I say simply.
“Thank you. You’re the only person who truly would.” She takes another deep breath. “When I learned Shepherd was cheating on me with Amber, and then the cops showed up, and I also realized he was going to let me to take the fall for killing those women… the betrayal was so deep, Kellan—I can’t even put into words how hurt I was. There was no going back. I wanted to die, right then and there. I didn’t care anymore. It’s like I totally shut off. Prison here, prison there, it didn’t matter. There was no life for me anymore. The man I spent my life caring for, the man I’d put my life on the line for, lied and told the feds that he knew nothing. He allowed me to be convicted for murders he committed. Can you even fathom that kind of betrayal?”
I swipe a tear from my cheek. With Rowan, there is no controlling my emotions, and I don’t even care.
“When you told me they had my DNA, I knew that no matter what I said, I was going to be convicted. I pleaded guilty knowing I’d get at least ten years off my sentence and maybe someday I’d even be released early.”
Her face hardens. She takes a moment to speak again.
“But then I found out that Shepherd and Amber were having a baby—a baby.” She swallows deeply. “I… I want you to know that I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me, but I wish you had.”
“I’m sorry, Rowan. I only found out a few weeks ago. I understand, but please understand my perspective: what good would it have done to tell you at this point?”
“I understand.”
“Okay, keep going, we have nine minutes.”
“Okay, so when I found out about the baby, I… I couldn’t bear the thought of a child being born into his care. I couldn’t bear the thought of a child growing up with Shepherd, a serial killer, as their father. It starts the cycle all over again, do you know what I mean? Aunt Jenny…” A knot catches her throat. Her eyes fill with tears. Her aunt’s recent passing has been hard on her. “Aunt Jenny once told me that someone has to stand up and break the cycle—and I’m going to do that right now. I’m going to ensure Shepherd can’t hurt anyone ever again. That child needs a chance, and I’m going to give it to them.”
“Good, Rowan.” More tears. “Okay, let me go through the items that were in the box, and make sure I have everything, before we blow this thing up.” I pull a crumpled piece of paper from my pocket, damp from sweat. I begin counting off the items with my finger. “In the box was: Handwritten letters from you—a confession of sorts—including the day you told Shepherd about Alyssa, Macy, and Cora, and ending with a detailed outline of everything you did to protect your husband after you realized what he was doing. Also included is your detailed assessment on how he got away with everything, including how he visited the women wearing his old uniform from when he did window sales, inspiring trust, before later killing them. The women recognized him, and therefore didn’t initially attack him, giving him the few seconds he needed to disable them.
“Two, a copy of Shepherd’s medical records, including his psychiatric assessment as well as the late Special Agent Darla Thatcher’s assessment, who worked with him when he was a child.
“Three, a burner cell phone which contains videos you took while following him. These videos show Shepherd approaching Macy Swift at the trail the night she was murdered, another shows him sneaking into Cora Granger’s home the night she was murdered, and then there are videos of him leaving both scenes.
“Four, a thumb drive containing twenty-seven photos you took of the physical tracks at each crime scene before covering them up.
“Five, a tracker that you put on his truck, after he’d stopped taking his pills and you’d become worried about his mental state. This tracker pins him to the location of the last two murders, at the time and date of each.
“Lastly, the hard drive of your basement computer which shows that Shepherd researched the three women extensively before each were killed, as well as endless extremely disturbing searches about torture and murder. That’s it, right?”
Rowan nods.
We stare at each other, both momentarily overwhelmed by the weight of the moment and what will come of this.
A tear rolls down her face and I want so badly to reach through the screen and pull her into my arms. The woman I have been unable to let go of, even after she was convicted of murder. The woman who I knew, deep in my soul, was innocent. The woman who I am so deeply, madly, insanely in love with.
“I feel awful that I allowed everything to spin out of control, that I lied to you, to everyone, that I?—
“No,” I interrupt. “Rowan, from this day forward, we put one foot in front of the other and leave the past in rearview mirror. Only forward movement. Deal?”
She wipes the tear from her cheek and the sweetest softest smile crosses her face. “Deal.”
SIXTY-THREE
