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Relief swells in my lungs. Stroud killed Crystal Cheri because she knew about his dirty little satanic sex club secret. This also explains why he’s been MIA. Stroud’s been on the run.
Jesse inhales deeply, sitting a bit taller. “Doc says he thinks my dad is going to be okay.”
“That’s great news.”
“Yeah,” he nods, meets my gaze. “I want to thank you… for everything.”
“I didn’t do anything, Jesse. I just gave you a little push.”
“A kick in the ass, more like. And I needed it. Thank you.”
I dip my chin.
“I started that job you gave me and have moved back into my house. I’m going to save money, just like you suggested, and then get out.”
“Good.”
He exhales deeply. “Anyway, I’m sorry this doesn’t solve all that,” he gestures to Sylvia on the couch. “You know, who wrote the letters, who kidnapped her…”
“Yeah about that… so I’m assuming the GPS tracking didn’t happen to show Stroud anywhere around the barn where Sylvia was held?”
“No.” Jesse solemnly shook his head. “I asked about that specifically. He had no part in that.”
Of course he didn’t. Because that would have been too damn easy.
So who kidnapped Sylvia?Stroud didn’t, and Dr. Taylor didn’t… sowho?
Jesse stands. “Anyway, I need to get back. I just wanted to tell you all this.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “You did good, Jesse. I’m proud of you.”
He lifts his chin. “Also, I wanted to let you know…” he shifts his weight. “I’ve decided what I’m going to do with my life after I get back on my feet.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to be a cop, work up to be a detective.”
My smile widens. “Good. That’s real good, Jesse. Go for it.”
“I will.”
I watch as misfit Jesse Taylor sneaks out the door and disappears into the night, into his new life.
I turn, lean against the living room doorframe and stare at Sylvia. Though I’m relieved Harris is going to be okay and that Stroud is going to get what he deserves, I can’t help but feel I am farther away than ever from figuring out who framed me.
Who wrote the letters?
Who threatened Sylvia?
Who kidnapped her—but allowed her to live?
Who killed Marjorie Stone?
Who framed me all those years ago?
Quietly, I cross the room, staring at Sylvia, asleep on the couch.
There is something there with her, I can feel it.
