Page 74 of Darkwater Lane

The question catches me off guard. She’s been going so hard on Sam I wasn’t expecting an easy one. “Yes.”

“What do you love about him?”

I shake my head. “I don’t even know where to begin.” She says nothing, giving me space to continue. I try to think of a story that encapsulates how I feel about him. “Early in our relationship, Sam took me up flying. He was still working construction at the time, but he had a buddy with an old plane he let Sam borrow—the kind that’s kept in a barn with an old field for a runway. Had it been anyone but Sam, I would have absolutely refused to climb aboard.

“But it was Sam, and I trusted him. He understood that me being a mother was the most important thing in the world to me, and that I guarded my kids’ lives with my own. He knew that ifsomething happened during that flight, if we crashed or didn’t make it back safely, it would mean orphaning my kids.”

I turn my mug in my hands, remembering that afternoon. The way the sun beat down on the grass in the old field, turning the air muggy and thick. The way Sam studied the plane through his pre-flight checks, so thorough and focused. The exhilaration of that first moment we lifted off from the ground.

“He recognized that it wasn’t my life he held in his hands, but theirs. And when we finally made it up and were soaring through the clouds, he told me that it used to be that never in his life had he felt closer to heaven than he did while in the air. Then he met me. Being my partner, caring for my kids, that was his new heaven.”

I belatedly realize how sappy that sounds, so I add, “Also he makes a mean pancake. The way to my heart may be through my kids, but there’s a shortcut through my stomach.” It’s not like me to be so open about my relationship with Sam, but if the goal is to exonerate him in the public’s eye, then I need to humanize him. I need everyone to see the Sam that I know and love.

Madison laughs. Then considers me for a moment. She hesitates before asking her next question. “I think what that story proves, though, is that Sam is your greatest protector.”

“Well, I like to believe I can protect myself, but yes, he feels strongly about keeping our family safe.”

“You murdered Melvin Royal.”

The abrupt shift causes whiplash. “Yes.”

“Why?”

I can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the question. “Because he was trying to rape, torture, and murder me on a livestream to paying customers. Because he tried to kidnap my kids. Twice. He was poison that was never going to stop infecting our lives.”

“Do you regret killing him?”

“Never.” It’s an easy answer.

“Your lives are better off—safer—with him dead.”

I nod. “Absolutely.”

“Did you love Melvin Royal?”

My stomach twists at the question, the taste of coffee and bile burning the back of my throat. “No.”

She frowns. “Really? Not even on your wedding day? Then why marry him?”

How to explain that, back then, I saw no other options? There was only one path for my life to take: meet a man, get married, have kids. It’s how I was raised. How my friends were raised. It’s the life my mom lived—and all my friends’ moms too. I didn’t know any different.

“I didn’t know who the real Melvin Royal was. The man I loved was just a mirage. He didn’t exist.”

“Were you scared of him?”

I think about that question for a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that. If I was, I never allowed myself to acknowledge it. I thought I’d won the lottery. He gave me the life I wanted: two amazing kids and the ability to stay home with them. He was a good father. The kids felt loved by him.”

She raises her eyebrows. “That’s an interesting way of phrasing it, that the kids felt loved by him.”

“Melvin Royal was incapable of love.” I don’t try to hide the bitterness in my voice.

“As I’m sure you know, there’s a large contingent of people out there who think you were complicit in Melvin’s crimes.”

“Oh?” I ask sarcastically.

She smiles. “Their argument is that you were married to Melvin for over a decade. You had two kids with him. You lived with him. A lot of people don’t understand how you couldn’t have known what kind of man he was. They argue that you were being willfully blind. What do you say to that?”

“I was naïve. I was raised to defer to my husband. To see thehusband as the man of the house: he went to work, provided for us, and deserved downtime to himself. I was taught not to ask a lot of questions. To anticipate his needs and to make life comfortable for him. I was raised to be agood wife. That’s what I tried to be.”