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It would take time, but Matt was confident the San Juan Islands Sheriff’s Department would come back, stronger than ever.
Matt talked to the AUSA and John stayed with her and Avila through the negotiations and written confession. The AUSA was thrilled, said Avila would spend at least twenty-five years in prison. “I wish it could be more, but getting the confession goes a long way. Not going to trial on this—where it would be difficult to prove premeditation—is huge. Honestly, this would have been a hard case to prosecute, Costa. I owe you one.”
Matt was pleased with the confession, but didn’t feel like justice was truly served. Damon Avila would pay for his crimes, but five people were still dead.
Matt left them to wrap everything up and walked from the sheriff’s station to West End Charter, needing the time to collect his thoughts. After a week of intensity, he almost felt a letdown. The bomber was dead. A killer had confessed. But people were still dead, and while justice was being served, Matt would never be okay with the loss of life.
Matt planned to tell Ted Colfax what was going on with the investigation, but Ted was out on the water. Matt walked down to the pier, not knowing if he would wait for him, or if he would come back tomorrow.
Matt saw Adam Colfax sitting alone on a bench at the end of the dock. He approached.
Adam looked up at him, sunglasses hiding his eyes, his mouth in a firm, straight line. His face was damp, and Matt suspected he had been crying.
“Ted’s out,” Adam said. “Won’t be back until sunset.”
“May I sit?”
Adam nodded.
They sat in silence for a long minute, staring out at the calm water. The wind and clouds from yesterday had disappeared; the sky was completely blue, the water calm, sparkling in the sun.
“You heard,” Matt finally said.
“It’s fucked. Just fucked and completely stupid.”
“I agree.”
Again, silence.
“I keep asking myselfwhy,” Adam said. “She blew up the boat to kill one person.”
“She blew up the boat to kill two people,” Matt said. “Cal, because she was a psychopathic stalker, and Neil Devereaux so that she could frame Damon Avila for the bombing. She planned on getting away with it.”
“But you figured it out.”
“My team did.”
“And she killed herself. I can’t even tell her how she screwed up my life. All those people, dead, for no reason. My sister told me that Mrs. Jeffries is pregnant. Now the kid won’t even know his dad. And Kyle...” His voice cracked. “He was only twenty-two. After he graduated next year, we were going to move in together. I wanted to get married, but Kyle said we had all the time in the world. But we didn’t. And now he’s gone for no fucking reason.”
Matt put a hand on Adam’s shoulder, but he didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
Kara didn’t want to talk to anyone else today, but she felt she owed Madelyn Jeffries some closure. She dropped Michael off at the house—he said he would go with her, but she wanted to do this on her own.
She drove out to the Jeffries property. Her hangover was almost gone, but her head was still all twisted from both everything that happened yesterday plus Catherine’s conversation with her this morning. Kara had no doubt that Catherine had intentionally tried to get under her skin and manipulate her, but there was a lot of truth in her comments, and Kara couldn’t shake the feeling that her life, as she knew it, was over.
Worse, she felt like she was in perpetual limbo, not knowing what to do or who to trust.
She pushed it all aside and walked up the stairs to the Jeffrieses’ front door. The day, at least, was beautiful. Eighty degrees, blue skies, birds chirping, and sailboats sailing.
Too beautiful, too chipper, after so much violence and death.
Robin, the fiancée, answered the door. “Agent Quinn.”
“Detective,” she automatically corrected and felt like an idiot. “Call me Kara, please. I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to see if anyone had questions, let you all know what happened and what’s going to happen.”
“That is kind of you. Come in, please.” Robin led Kara to the living room and motioned for her to sit. “May I get you anything? Coffee, water, soda?”
Normally Kara would decline, but she was dehydrated. “Water, please.”
