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“Yes,” Katherine says with a grim nod. “The last thing I remember is Tom going back to bed and me going into the bathroom. I stared into the mirror, panicking as my reflection began to blur. Everything went out of focus. Then there was nothing but darkness. I have no memories after that besides waking up in the boat this morning. But the second I came to, I knew it was over and that he was gone. Thanks to you, Casey. It’s like I was lost and you found me.”
“Which is what we’ll tell the police,” I say. “I couldn’t sleep, went out in the boat to see if there was any storm damage to the shore, and saw you stumbling out of the woods in a daze.”
All in all, it’s a good story. Not too far out of the realm of possibility, when ignoring the whole being-possessed-by-a-drowned-man thing. I think people will believe it.
Even Wilma.
With our story straight, I get ready to go to my house across the lake. I glimpse it through the giant windows of the Royces’ living room, looking as warm and inviting as a nest. One I want to return to as soon as possible.
Before leaving, Tom shakes my hand and says, “I understand why you did what you did. That doesn’t mean I liked being locked in that basement for twelve hours. Or having the police after me.”
“Or being hit with a table leg?” I say, cringing at how unhinged I must have seemed to him at the time.
“Especially that.” Tom’s pissed-off look softens, as does his voice. “Butit was all worth it because you brought Katherine back to me. So, thank you.”
“You’re forgetting that Katherine also brought me back,” I say. “I think that makes us even.”
Tom stays behind as Eli, Katherine, and I step onto the patio. Outside, the day is bright with promise. With the sun on my face and a breeze brushing my still-damp hair, I can’t quite believe that, two hours earlier, I was at the bottom of the lake, ready to remain there.
I don’t regret making that choice.
But someone else made a different choice. Katherine decided that I should live, and who am I to disagree? Especially when there’s still unfinished business to take care of.
It’s Eli, of course, who reminds me of that. Before walking to his house next door, he places a folded handkerchief in my hands. “You know what to do with this more than me,” he says. “I hope it doesn’t get you into too much trouble.”
“It very well could,” I say. “But I’m ready to deal with the consequences.”
Eli departs with a hug, leaving me and Katherine alone to stroll to the dock and my boat tied to the end of it. She loops her arm through mine and makes sure our shoulders bump—so touchy-feely even without Len’s influence.
“I need to tell you something,” she says. “Those memories that I talked about? The ones that weren’t mine but I had them anyway? I got some of them before he took over. Others arrived while I was unconscious and he was completely in control. But all of them are still there.”
My pace quickens. I don’t want to know what Len remembered.
“You made him very happy, Casey. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but it’s true. He truly did love you, and what he did—that had nothing to do with you. You can’t blame yourself for any of it. He would have done it no matter what. In fact, I got the sense your presence in his life kept him from trying earlier. He thought he had too much to lose.”
“Yet he still went ahead and did it anyway,” I say.
Katherine stops walking and turns me until we’re face-to-face. “Which is why I don’t judge you for what you did to him.”
Of course she knows. Len is as imprinted on Katherine as a tattoo. God help her.
“I probably would have done the same thing,” she says. “It’s easy to talk about justice and responsibility and taking matters into your own hands when it’s not happening to you. But this did happen to you, Casey. And you did what a lot of women would have done in your shoes.”
“I’m afraid that won’t matter to the police.”
“Maybe not,” Katherine says. “But I don’t plan on telling them anything about it. This will stay just between us.”
I desperately wish it could, but this goes beyond me and Katherine. There are others to consider, including the friends and families of three women still submerged in the frigid darkness of Lake Greene. They’re at the forefront of my thoughts as I climb into the boat and make my way across the water. I keep a grip on my phone, still in its Ziploc bag, ready to call Wilma Anson as soon as I get back to the house.
The person standing on my dock delays that plan a bit.
“Hey,” Boone says, giving me a wary wave as I cut the motor and bring the boat into the dock.
“Hey yourself.”
I let Boone tie up the boat because, one, he seems eager to do it and, two, I’m exhausted. Definitely far too tired to be talking to him at the moment, although it’s clear that can’t be avoided.
“Eli told me you found Katherine,” he says, shooting a glance across the water. “Is she okay?”