“I’m not worried.”
It was the last thing she said before he kissed her.
Epilogue
It was late.
Andrew switched on the light in his den and closed the door behind him. Everyone had finally settled in. After they’d brought Ilene and Alex back with them, Clay had gathered everyone at the house and made the announcement. He’d told them all that Alex was his son. And that soon Ilene would be his wife.
A lot of joy today, Andrew thought, smiling. There’d been a lot to celebrate, and if there was one thing the Cavanaughs knew how to do, it was celebrate. The last of them had finally cleared out at eleven.
The house was quiet now.
Andrew sat down at his desk. The desk where he’d spent hours at a time poring over his notes, trying to find one shred of evidence, one fact, however slim, that he could use to support what he always believed in his heart to be true. That Rose was alive.
He had it now.
Here, carefully wrapped in a plastic bag, tagged as evidence but important to no one but him, he had proof. Proof that she hadn’t been trapped in her car when it sank to the bottom of its watery grave. Proof that she’d managed to get out on her own, that she hadn’t been swept away by the current.
He placed in on his desk and looked through the plastic at the worn, cracked leather. He’d given this to Rose, filled with the pictures of their children. The pictures were still there. As was her license.
He’d kept the news of this discovery to himself, at least for now. He hadn’t wanted to spoil Clay’s news tonight, hadn’t wanted to cast a shadow on the party that followed.
He knew what they all thought, that he’d become obsessed with this, with finding Rose. But it wasn’t an obsession, it was a belief, a very firm belief. If Rose had been dead, something inside of him would have been, too, something would have shattered.
But it hadn’t, it wasn’t.
He was intact. The emptiness that was there was because he missed her, not because he grieved over her lost life.
If she was dead, he would know.
“You’ve got a lot to live for, Rose. Now more than ever. And I’m going to bring you home,” he promised the woman in the photograph.
Quietly he set the frame down again. Rising, Andrew placed the wrapped wallet back in his pocket, then turned off the light.
Before going up the stairs, he checked the front porch light, making sure it was on, just the way he did every night.
The light was left on to guide Rose up the steps in case she came home tonight.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6850-4
CRIME AND PASSION
Copyright © 2003 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Crime and Passion Page 18