Marissa ran a hand down the mane of blonde curls and smiled through her own tears.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I’m so grateful to have you home. Safe. Whatever else comes, we’ll face it together. Okay?”
Brooke nodded. Marissa settled Brooke into the curve of her shoulder and stroked the blonde curls, like she had when Brooke was just a little girl.
“What happens if I can’t go back to school?” Brooke said, breaking the silence.
“My mother used to say there’s no point in borrowing trouble. When I was a kid, I didn’t know what she meant and figured it was her way of brushing me off. Now I know different. Worrying won’t stop bad things from happening. All you can do is stand strong in the face of fear and meet each challenge head on. You can do this, Brooke. You’re stronger than you know.”
Brooke nodded.
Marissa’s cell phone rang. Reaching into her purse, she thumbed the mute button and the ringer fell silent.
“Who was that?” Brooke asked.
“Work.”
“Shouldn’t you answer it?”
“It can wait. I thought I’d stay here with you.”
Brooke squeezed Marissa’s hand. “I’m okay, Mom. Go to work.”
Marissa dropped her gaze to where their fingers lay intertwined.
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” she said.
“I could stay,” a voice called from the doorway.
They both turned. A bouquet of daisies clasped in one hand, Jesse Morgan stood in the door, looking uncertain.
Few traces of the boy were left in the man’s face, but Marissa would have recognized him anywhere. Brooke pulled away from her mother’s side and ran her hands self-consciously through her hair, tucking the errant strands behind her ears. Marissa caught the look in her daughter’s eyes and knew in an instant that Brooke’s feelings for Jesse had never fully faded. Love was like that sometimes.
Slinging her purse across her shoulder, Marissa crossed the room. Jesse barely looked at her.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “If I hadn’t . . .”
Marissa shook her head, and he fell silent. He stood rigid, braced for an attack, like she might curse him or blame him for ruining her daughter’s life or slap him across the face.
It was too late for regrets. Brooke needed to heal, and she needed to forgive. Marissa wrapped her arms around Jesse’s strong shoulders. He hesitated a brief second before returning her hug.
“Thank you for coming.”
Looking up into his startled blue eyes, she figured he might just be the best medicine of all. Marissa released him and made for the door.
“I’ll be back later,” she said.
Brooke didn’t answer. She had eyes only for Jesse. Marissa stopped in the doorway and glanced back.
Jesse set the flowers down and pulled a chair up next to the bed. He drew a book from his coat pocket and held it up for Brooke’s inspection.
“I brought you something to read.”
“What is it? It looks too thick to be a graphic novel. I didn’t know you read actual books.”
Jesse snorted, an amused grin on his face.
“It’s Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“What?” Brooke cried. Even from the doorway, Marissa saw her blush to the roots of her hair.
“Just kidding. It’s Pride and Prejudice. I remembered you liked it back in high school.”
Brooke paused. A flurry of emotions crossed her face—happiness and sorrow and everything in between.
“That’s very sweet. You can leave it over there. My eyesight isn’t back to normal yet, and I’m having a little trouble focusing.”
The crooked smile faded from Jesse’s face. He cleared his throat.
“I thought I’d read to you. If that’s all right.”
Two heartbeats of silence passed.
“You read?” Brooke asked, her voice thick with tears and laughter. “When did that happen?”
“Shut up,” Jesse said.
Grinning, he opened the book.
Epilogue
Marissa Rooney crossed the Smith Tower’s lobby and stepped into the crowded elevator. Shuffling over to make more room for the other loading passengers, she jostled an older man standing near the back of the car.
“Sorry,” she said, nudging over a step.
“Quite all right, Marissa. It’s good to see you back.”
Marissa turned and looked up into the smiling face of Mr. Regis, managing partner of the law firm. Happy to see a friendly face, she returned his smile.
“It’s good to be back.”
“Heading up to the foundation this morning?”
“Yes.”
Regis nodded. “Very good. Elizabeth was right about you, you know. You’re going to do great things. If I can be of assistance in any way, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“Thank you, Mr. Regis, for everything. Really.”
“Maybe you can start by calling me John.”
“Of course, John.”
The elevator stopped at the sixth floor, and Mr. Regis stepped through the crowd to the front. He stopped just outside the doors.
“Oh, Marissa, one more thing. I thought you might like to know, it’s Ms. Benoit’s last day with the firm.”
“Where is she going?”
Regis angled his head to the side. A slow smile spread across his face. “She’s off to pursue other endeavors.”
Marissa knew what that meant. She grinned.
“We’re having cake at three. She’ll be gone by two if you’d like to stop down.”
Benoit’s leaving the firm certainly was cause for celebration.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The elevator doors closed behind John. The car lurched and continued up.
Evan had been busy, Marissa mused as she stopped to admire the newly installed doors. “The Holt Foundation” was etched into the frosted glass. Gripping the handle, she pushed through. On her way down the hall, she exchanged greetings with the familiar faces she passed.
“Ms. Rooney,” a young woman called. Dressed in high heels and a slim navy suit, she looked every inch a professional.
“Yes?”
“I’m your new assistant, Jessica Perkins.”
Surprise stalled Marissa in midstride. Jessica offered her hand, and after a second’s hesitation, she shook it. Evan hadn’t mentioned an assistant. What other surprises did he have up his sleeve?
“Welcome aboard, Ms. Perkins.”
“Jessica, please. Mr. Holt has arranged a few meetings for you today. You’ll find a copy of your itinerary on your desk.”
“Thank you.”
Marissa followed Jessica down the hallway to Elizabeth Holt’s office. Affixed to the mahogany door was a silver nameplate. “Marissa Rooney. Assistant Director.” She shook her head in wonder. A few months ago she’d been little more than a legal secretary. Now, alongside Evan, she was managing Elizabeth’s foundation. It was a lot to take in.
Jessica’s voice interrupted her thoughts, pulling her back into the moment.
“A Mr. Wright is waiting for you.”
“Oh?”
Jessica swung the wide mahogany door open. Looking tall and pale in his gray suit, Alistair Wright rose from the guest chair and extended his hand toward Marissa. She shook his hand warmly. Wright looked like he had aged ten years over the past few weeks. With all he’d been through, it was no wonder.
Alicia’s memorial service had been a heart-wrenching affair. Marissa hadn’t been able to stop thinking about how close she had come to losing her own daughters.
“Alistair,” she said, greeting him with a soft voice filled with compassion. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How can I help?”
Marissa gestured to the guest chair, and Wright resumed his seat. Marissa gripped Elizabeth’s amulet.
“I wanted to make a donation to the foundation in Alicia’s memory.”
Sorrow swelled in Marissa’s heart. After so m
uch tragedy, his generosity was extraordinary. Alistair reached into his suit pocket and handed Marissa a check. It was the largest single donation the foundation had received so far, and Marissa smiled, thinking of all the good this money would do for the people who needed it most.
“Thank you.”
Alistair’s eyes fixed on the amulet for a second. His gaze grew distant.
“Alicia meant the world to me, and now I’m left wondering what more I should have done to keep her safe.” He ran a hand across his moist eyes. Marissa saw the lines of pain carved deep into his face. “If there is some small way I can help prevent a tragedy like this from happening to some other family, it’s my responsibility to do so. I imagine that you feel similarly, Marissa.”
“I do. I know your support would mean the world to Elizabeth.”
He cleared his throat. “My law firm is at your disposal, should you have need of it.”
He rose from his chair and picked up a silver-framed picture of Elizabeth—a young Elizabeth Holt standing outside the King County courthouse. Wright stared at it for a long time. His brows furrowed deep, he sighed and set it back down. “Well, I’ve taken enough of your time today.”
“Not at all.”
Marissa shook his hand and thanked him again for his generous donation. She stood behind the desk and watched his retreating frame and thought again how unfair life was. He was a good man who’d lost his beautiful daughter to a madman. She shuddered and thought again about how close she’d come to losing Brooke and Kelly.
Lost in thought, Marissa didn’t hear Evan enter the office until he spoke.
“Was that Alistair Wright?”
Marissa nodded. She plucked the check off the desk and handed it to Evan.
“He made a donation in his daughter’s memory.”
Evan studied the check and Marissa went on.
“He also said his law firm would be willing to donate their services.”
“Did you know Alistair was engaged to Lizzie?”
“Really?”
Marissa remembered the way Elizabeth had looked at Alistair the night of the benefit and his obvious reluctance to release her hand. She’d sensed then that there was something more between them than friendship. Turned out she was right.
“Back when they were in college. Lizzie broke off their engagement after the attack. She never really got over it. Afterward, she was obsessed with going to law school. Seeking justice,” Evan said, angling his head to the side, a bemused expression on his face. “Or, knowing Lizzie, vengeance. Eventually Alistair got on with his life, got married, had children, but I’m not sure he ever really stopped loving her.”
“Or her him,” Marissa finished, fingering the gold amulet around her throat.
“Alistair gave that necklace to Lizzie. I never saw her without it.”
Marissa’s heart ached for them both. Love was such a precious, tenuous thing. She thought about her girls. And Seth. And the way their lives had changed, all because of Andrew Bowman. She was grateful they still had each other.
“Take a look at this.”
Evan handed Marissa a thick manila file folder. She cocked an eyebrow and opened it. The first page was an eight-by-ten photograph of a young woman. She didn’t look much older than Brooke. Her small hand rested on the swell of the baby growing inside her. Hope sparkled in her large brown eyes.
A chill raced down Marissa’s back. She looked up, meeting Evan’s gaze.
“Who is this?”
“Rebecca Kincaid disappeared from a mall parking lot two nights ago.”
Marissa cringed, her eyes drawn to the life growing beneath Rebecca’s hand.
“When’s she due?”
“In two weeks. We need to find Rebecca and her baby.”
Marissa’s mouth set in a resolute line.
“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s get to work.”
THE END
Author’s Notes
As with so many worthwhile endeavors, it takes a village to make a novel happen, and I want to take a few minutes to call out special thanks to a few of the people of my village; all of them proved to be cornerstones in their own right in the making of In the Dark.
First and foremost, I want to thank Mark Cooper, my editor and medicine man, for all his involvement with the book. Part drill instructor, part cheerleader, Mark challenged me to dig deeper into each of my characters and take bigger risks at every turn. Like every good editor, he’s trained me so well that I can hear him in my head as I write—knock off the passive crap, give me another metaphor, you can do better than that! Seriously, though, not only did his tireless rounds of edits make this a better story, I am a better writer for having worked so closely with him.
I also want to thank Sadie, my Amazon editor, whose eagle eye helped me put the final touches on In the Dark and truly make it shine.
I couldn’t have finished the book without the support of my husband, Gord. Thank you for never visibly rolling your eyes or groaning when I asked you to listen to yet another chapter. I have always valued honesty above all in our relationship and I wanted to say thank you for always sharing your honest opinion and your willingness to join me on a twisted journey that began with those two little magic words, “What if . . .”
Rebecca Berus has been my guide to the marketing and publishing world. She helped grow my career as a writer. Somehow she always seems to know the right things to do, and has helped me learn more about marketing strategies in the last nine months than I ever would have learned on my own. She also introduced me to my agent, Andrea Hurst, who in just a few short weeks has really made a huge impact on this book and my author brand.
Writing one hundred thousand words in the dark recesses of your mind can be a lonely endeavor. I’ve been lucky to find two awesome writers, fellow warriors and literary explorers in their own right, Molly and Kristin, with whom I’ve been able to regularly get together so we can compare notes and provide each other with support. I value their friendship and insights greatly. Writing group is my favorite meeting every week. Most of the time we read. Sometimes we just eat chocolate and laugh. Thank you for your feedback and encouragement and for trying not to cringe when I read you some of the grittier sections of the book. You inspire me. Power to the Writing Mamas!
In some ways writing a book is like writing a software program—everything can change over the course of a couple of versions and getting feedback along the way is important. Thank you, Ginna, for reading several in-progress versions of In the Dark and providing valuable feedback. Suggestions from Ginna and Mally have made their way into the final version of the book. Keep this behavior up, ladies, and you may find characters named after you in future works! I may have to kill you though. You’ve been warned.
Thanks to the many experts (I’ll refer to them as the tribal elders to keep with the metaphor), who provided guidance along the way. I spent more than a few hours with Deputy Chief Chuck Marsalisi of the Renton Police Department, at Starbucks plotting murder. Captain Todd Light from the Duvall Fire Department spent hours with me sharing his insights and expertise. It’s not every day you get a cold call from a perfect stranger planning to blow up half of Carnation. But once the initial shock faded, he kind of got into it.
Speaking of Carnation, I want to give special thanks to the friendly folks of Sliders in Carnation, Washington. Sliders is a real spot and a great place to go for some tasty local fare and live music. Despite what Drew’s comments might be about the place, I recommend a drop in to everyone if you’re in the area.
I’ll admit I’ve bent and broken the laws of police procedure and firefighting protocols to suit my fictional whims while writing In the Dark. We writers are notorious for bending the world to fit our liking. Forgive me for all my technical inaccuracies—they were for a noble cause.
And finally, to my girls—thank you for your slavish devotion to Minecraft, which gave me many blissful quiet hours to write, and for never being embarrassed to tell people what kind of
books their mom writes. I feel blessed to have you both in my life. You make me a better person.
Writing this book has been an amazing journey. Thank you all for sharing it with me.
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