Chapter 11
We went back to the motel room.
I laid everything out on the table.
The envelope from Marcus.
The photographs.
The doctor's handwritten confession, dated just before he died.
Old Man Peterson's death certificate, which had been altered.
The proof was overwhelming.
Thomas had killed a man.
And gotten away with it for forty years.
Emily sat on the edge of the bed, her face pale.
"Grandpa was a murderer," she whispered.
I nodded slowly. "It seems that way."
Elaine put her arm around Emily.
I thought about the man I'd loved for fifty years. The man I'd shared a bed with, built a life with, buried.
How many more secrets was he hiding?
"Marcus said he's dying," I said. "His internal injuries are worse than the doctors are saying. He doesn't have much time."
Emily looked up. "He asked about me. Didn't he?"
I nodded. "He said he's sorry. For everything. For not being the father you deserved."
Emily was quiet for a long time.
"I don't know how to feel about him," she said finally. "He's my father. But he's also a monster. He hurt so many people. He hurt Mom. He hurt you. He hurt Grandpa."
"You don't have to feel anything," Elaine said gently. "You don't owe him anything."
"But he's still family," Emily said. "Aren't I supposed to care?"
I sat down beside her.
"Family isn't just about blood," I said. "It's about who shows up. Who cares. Who loves you. Marcus never did any of those things for you. Your mother did. Elaine does. I do. That's what matters."
Emily leaned her head on my shoulder.
"What are we going to do about this?" she asked, nodding at the evidence on the table. "About Old Man Peterson?"
I thought about it.
The truth had already destroyed so much.
Thomas's reputation. My marriage. My relationship with my daughter.
If this came out, it would destroy what little was left.
The town would never forgive us.
Old Man Peterson's family—they had grandchildren, great-grandchildren still living in town. They'd been told for forty years that he died peacefully of a heart attack.
This would break their hearts all over again.
But I'd already learned the cost of keeping secrets.
"We give it to the police," I said. "And to Old Man Peterson's family. They deserve the truth."
Elaine nodded. "It's the right thing to do."
The next morning, we went to the police station.
We gave them everything. The envelope from Marcus. The photographs. The confession.
The detective in charge—Detective Miller, a woman who'd been handling all our cases—looked through the evidence, her face grave.
"This is going to reopen a lot of old wounds," she said.
"I know," I said. "But it's the truth."
Detective Miller nodded. "We'll investigate. We'll contact the Peterson family. And we'll find David. He's still out there, and he's dangerous."
She paused.
"Marcus Bennett's condition has worsened," she said. "The doctors don't expect him to live through the night."
I looked at Emily.
She knew what I was thinking.
"Go," she said softly. "If you need to see him, go."
I looked at Elaine. She nodded.
"I'll go with you," she said.
We went back to the hospital.
Marcus was in the ICU now. He was hooked up to machines, his breathing shallow.
A nurse let us in.
"He's been asking for you," she said.
I walked to the bedside. Marcus's eyes were closed, but he opened them when he heard us come in.
He saw Elaine, and a small, sad smile touched his lips.
"Elaine," he whispered. "I'm sorry. For everything I did to you."
Elaine stood there, her face composed.
"I know," she said. "And I forgive you. Not because you deserve it. But because I need to. For my own peace."
Marcus's eyes filled with tears.
He looked at me.
"Emily?"
"She's not here," I said. "But she knows what you said. About being sorry."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Take care of her," he whispered. "She's the only good thing I ever did."
His eyes closed.
The machines beeped steadily.
And then, slowly, the beeping changed.
The nurse came in. She checked Marcus's pulse, then looked at us.
"He's gone," she said.
Marcus Bennett was dead.
The man who had destroyed my marriage, who had haunted my family for forty years, who had been the source of so much pain and suffering—was gone.
I waited for the feeling of relief. Of closure.
But it didn't come.
Instead, I felt... empty.
Elaine took my hand.
"Come on," she said. "Let's go home."
Home.
But where was home now?
The house was too dangerous. David was still out there.
And the town... after what we'd revealed about Thomas, would we ever be welcome there again?
I didn't know.
But I knew one thing.
As long as I had Emily and Elaine, I had family.
May you like
And that was enough.
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