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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

A spen stared up into the furious face of Brent Salcito. The man she’d met at church the previous Sunday, the man who’d bought her pastries at Cuppa Josie’s…that man was gone.

This man didn’t wear a mask of kindness.

His eyes were bulging. His lips drawn back in a sneer. He straddled her, holding her arms over her head in a tight grip. She struggled to wiggle away, but he outweighed her and overpowered her. His other hand clamped down on her neck.

He squeezed.

“You’re right,” he said. “I can explain away the knife and the jacket. It’ll be clear I hadn’t been the one to kill her and bury her, or I wouldn’t have hidden those things with her body.”

Aspen gasped for breath, the world darkening around her as Salcito’s fingers pressed against the arteries in her neck. She tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he was too strong.

She was utterly powerless.

“I’ll come up with a story about how your father found us together,” Brent said. “How, in a fit of jealousy, he attacked me and killed his wife. How I didn’t tell the truth because I was afraid I’d be implicated in the bombing. You’re right, Aspen. If they find your mother, I’ll figure a way out of it. I always do.”

He bent lower, low enough to whisper in her ear. “I always hated you. I know it’s wrong to hate a baby, but I loathed you. You were the reason she married Michael. You were the only thing keeping Jane from me. I know it’s too late to get Jane back, but I’m not one bit sorry to kill you.” His fingers tightened, clamping over Aspen’s windpipe. “In fact, I think I’ll enjoy it.”

Blackness crept from the edges of her vision until all she could see was the face of the man who would end her life.

So she closed her eyes. Father, expose all this man’s evil deeds.

Protect Jaslynn. She’ll grieve for me. Wrap her in Your arms and comfort her.

Protect Garrett. Please, let him know I would never hurt his uncle. Bless him. Give him a good life.

If only she could have known his love. If only she could have experienced life with him. Slept beside him. Seen the faces of their children. Held his hand and walked with him into old age.

If only everything could have been different.

Suddenly, she felt free.

Free of pain.

Free of the weight of her murderer.

It was over.

She gasped in a deep, full breath and opened her eyes.