by Lisa Gardner
And the other moments? Tomorrow, the next day, the one after that?
She will need help, I think.
And then . . .
She will have it. From me, from Samuel, from my mother. We all started this journey together, each in our own way. I would finish it. If Stacey would let me, I would be there for her. I’ve fought enough alone in the dark. It might be nice to try working together with someone to find the light.
The next question I ask Samuel with my eyes because I can’t say the words out loud.
“She died at the scene,” he offers simply. “It appears she and Devon Goulding kidnapped at least three girls together. Kristy Kilker died. But you, Stacey Summers. You two made it.”
“I didn’t know Lindy was even in town,” I murmured. “I went to Tonic Friday night because Stacey’s friends said they went there on occasion. Lindy . . . Jacob’s daughter. I never knew she was in Boston. Never even suspected.”
“You met her when you were with Jacob.”
I understand the question he’s really asking. Why didn’t I ever talk about her, alert authorities? I tell him the truth: “No one wants to be a monster.”
“You’re not a monster, Flora. You’re a survivor.”
“It’s not enough. You think it will be. But it’s not.”
“You saved a girl’s life.”
“I killed a man.” And that quickly, I can feel the darkness rushing in again. “I watched him burn and didn’t even care. I stood alone in the void. I’m always alone in the void!”
“Then make a different choice, Flora. No one said living is easy. You’re still going to have to get up each morning. And you’re going to have to make decisions. It’s been five years, and here we are again. Do you really want to keep making the same choices?”
I don’t have an answer. He’s told me similar things before. First, you survive. Next, you have to stop feeling like a victim.
It all sounds so simple. And yet, and yet . . .
My mom appears, hovering uncertainly in the doorway, trapped in her own version of déjà vu.
Her sad, determined face. Her terribly ugly flannel shirt.
The silver fox charm nestled at the hollow of her throat.
So many things I should tell her. So many apologies I should make. I want it to be as simple as Samuel makes it sound. I want the same happily-ever-after Stacey Summers surely deserves.
I want to tell the truth, and hope that it sets me free. I pull my hand from Samuel. I hold it out to my mother.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“You don’t have to—”
“I blamed you,” I hear myself say. “I didn’t mean to. But you wanted me to come home so badly. I would watch you on the news, begging for my safe return. So I survived for you. Even when it would’ve been better if I hadn’t. Even when I wanted to let go. I survived because I didn’t want to let you down.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I can tell from her expression that she already knows. She glances at Samuel. This is something they’ve discussed. They realized, even if I didn’t.
“Jacob had a daughter. They forced me to go with them to bars. They forced me to help pick up women to kill. Three times. Three women dead because of me. I can’t change that,” I tell her honestly. “Even now, with Stacey Summers. It still doesn’t balance the scale.”
“It’s not your scale to balance. The crimes are on them.”
“I watched him burn, that crime is on me.”
“Flora . . . I don’t know what you want from me. I’m your mother and I love you. Even now, even after you’re telling me these things. I’m your mother. And I love you.”
“I don’t know who I am,” I say.
“No one does. Everyone spends their lives figuring that out, even people who’ve never been kidnapped.”
“I still miss him. And that’s wrong. That’s twisted. I hate him for being inside my head.”
“Then welcome him. Thank him for helping make you strong. Thank him for dying so you could go home. A man like that, he has no defense against gratitude, Flora. Welcome him, and he’ll leave on his own.”
“That’s new age crap.”
“That’s the basics of turning away from hate. Sooner or later, you gotta give it up if you’re going to live again.”
“Do you hate him?”
“The police thought Jacob would kill you that day, Flora. Their best experts predicted he’d shoot you, then kill himself. I choose to be grateful he didn’t.”
I have to think about it. It takes one kind of courage to face down an armed opponent. A different kind of courage to live again.
I say: “This is Flora. This is all of Flora, finally waking up.”
My mother hugs me. It hurts my bandaged shoulder. It terrifies the rest of me.
But I return her hug. I focus on the feel, the smell, the complete experience. My mother. Her hug. Our embrace. Four hundred and seventy-two days. Five long years.
This is Flora, finally going home, I think, and I squeeze back as hard as I can.
Acknowledgments
This book started with an article I read online about the FBI’s Office for Victim Assistance. I’d never heard of a victim specialist, and was immediately captivated by the idea that victims and their families require support above and beyond our traditional concept of happily-ever-afters. As Flora can attest, rescue isn’t the end of an ordeal but the beginning of an entirely new one. My thanks to the FBI’s Office of Public Affairs for arranging for me to interview two victim specialists and, of course, my gratitude to everyone for sharing their time and expertise. Dr. Samuel Keynes’s involvement in Rosa’s and Flora’s lives exceeds the norm, naturally, and I hope you will understand the fictional license. Of course, all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Next up, thank you to retired BPD detective Wayne Rock for getting D.D. back on the job! I couldn’t just leave her sidelined, so I reached out to Wayne. Once he explained the nature of restricted duty, it sounded so torturous for someone with D.D.’s temperament, how could I resist? Thanks, Wayne!
SAC Nidia Gamba assisted me with procedural details for tracking down the evil Jacob Ness. I consider her the real-life Kimberly Quincy, only better. Thank you for taking time out to assist with catching my fictional bad guys, and thank you even more for taking down the real ones.
My favorite local detective, Lieutenant Michael Santuccio, also helped save the day, mostly by answering my frantic text, Quick I gotta kidnap someone, how would you do it? While my pharmacist of choice, Margaret Charpentier, came up with the hops-and-viburnum-laced mattress. As Flora mentions, while hops is a herbal sleep aid dating back to medieval times, the science behind its effectiveness remains sketchy. For the purposes of fiction, however, why not?
D.D.’s squad owes their new unit member, Carol Manley, to Carol’s son, David Martin, who made a very generous donation to the Conway Area Humane Society in return for his mother’s name being included in a novel. I hope you both enjoy, especially the shout-out to Carol’s dog, Harley.
Congratulations to Kristy Kilker, who won this year’s Kill a Friend, Maim a Buddy sweepstakes, earning herself a grand end. Also, Jocelyne Ethier nabbed the right to be a suspicious nightclub manager as winner of the international edition of Kill a Friend, Maim a Mate. Thank you both for sharing in this fun and definitely unique contest.
For my good friend Lisa Mac, thank you for yet another brilliant forensic insight—this time the value of glitter as trace evidence, which helped me forge ahead when I needed it most. Yep, I owe you another dinner. Or perhaps we’re up to a year’s supply of meals.
Fellow suspense novelist and doctor C. J. Lyons provided some fun medical details on the physical effects of starvation. Thanks!
Finally, like writers everywhere, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my family, who actually has to live with
me while I gnash my teeth, mutter at people who don’t exist, and curse my novel regularly. My daughter, well trained at this point, spent the final week of my deadline baking cookies and shoving them at me. I really like her.
Surviving is not a destination but a journey. To survivors everywhere, this book is for you.
About the Author
LISA GARDNER is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of seventeen previous novels, including her most recent, Crash & Burn. Her Detective D. D. Warren novels include Fear Nothing, Catch Me, Love You More, and The Neighbor, which won the International Thriller of the Year Award. She lives with her family in New England.
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