Page 44 of Darkwater Lane (Stillhouse Lake #7)

GWEN

That night, I wait until the kids are in their rooms after dinner, then suggest to Sam that we take a walk.

Despite the fact that it’s winter and dark outside, he doesn’t protest. He knows me well enough to recognize that I have something important on my mind—something I don’t want the kids to overhear.

We grab our coats, and Sam follows me out the door. We walk in silence down the driveway to the lake. It’s not far to the road, and beyond it, the small gravel parking lot and the rickety old dock.

The same one Rowan stood on this morning. Though that’s also something I haven’t mentioned to Sam yet. There are so many secrets still between us. I’m hoping to put an end to that tonight.

I stop at the edge of the dock, staring down its length to the lake beyond. The water stretches out and around us like liquid darkness. “They found shards of Melvin’s bones in the other Sicko Patrol victims,” I tell him.

He nods slowly, taking the information in. “That means there’s a serial killer out there.”

I turn and face him, crossing my arms. “They found a bone in Leo Varrus’s throat as well. ”

This time, his eyes go wide. He places his hands on his head and begins to pace.

“It ties his death to the others. And since you’re their lead suspect for Leo’s murder…”

I don’t have to finish the statement. He understands the implications.

“They think I’m a serial killer.”

“It’s worse than that,” I tell him.

He lets out a bark of a laugh. “Worse?”

“You don’t have alibis for the dates of the sickos’ murders.” I study his reaction, trying to discern whether his surprise is genuine.

How has it come to this? That I could consider my partner capable of something like this.

Easy , a small voice whispers. It’s happened before. You’ve been blindsided by those closest to you in the past.

He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Kez was the one to figure it out. She called the police departments involved with the Sicko Patrol murders and asked if they’d found a bone at the crime scene.

As soon as she confirmed the links between the victims, she knew it was only a matter of time before the FBI made the same connection.

Once they did, suspicion would naturally fall on us.

I knew we’d have to clear our names fast because, once authorities get a suspect, they stop looking for others and only look for evidence to prove their theory right. ”

“Confirmation bias,” Sam says.

I nod. “My alibis were easy. Yours…weren’t.”

“How so?” He seems genuinely curious, as if he isn’t already aware what the answer is. Which is a point in favor of his innocence.

“You were out of town for every murder,” I tell him carefully, eyeing his reaction .

He frowns. “So? I’m a pilot. When I’m on the schedule, I’m out of town half the days of the week, if not more.”

I look out toward the lake again. The night is still, and the surface is flat, a reflection of the dark sky above. It’s almost dizzying, like standing on the edge of an abyss. One step and I’d fall into emptiness.

I want to believe he isn’t that good of an actor, but I can’t. I know from experience how convincing he can be. When we first met, he convinced me he was a normal guy, a bachelor writer living next door, whose only interest in me was earning a few bucks by fixing my roof.

I bought into his story completely.

So, what I’d really like to believe—what I need to believe—is that he wouldn’t pull an act around me again.

“All of your destinations matched up with the murders,” I tell him. “According to your flight schedule, you were within an hour’s drive of every single one.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in. “How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.” I’m still staring at the water, wondering how many secrets it holds. How many conversations has it been privy to?

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t come to me when you learned about all of this.”

I don’t have a good answer.

He turns to face me. “Unless you think I had something to do with it?”

My response is immediate. “Of course I don’t.”

He senses my hesitation. “But?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Leo? We said no more secrets.” My voice has risen and is edged with pain and accusation.

“You’ve kept secrets too, Gwen,” he says softly.

“Not like that,” I argue .

“Why are you really upset? Is it because I didn’t tell you I was going to meet Leo? Or because you think I killed him.”

I wrap my arms around my middle. “I think you would have killed him if given the chance,” I admit.

“But I don’t think you’re the one who murdered him.

You’d never be that cruel. And you’d never do it in our house.

Especially with all that blood. You know firsthand what a bitch that would be to clean. ”

As I’d hoped, a smile twitches the corner of his mouth.

It fades the moment I say, “Someone burned down our rental house in Knoxville.”

He staggers back a step. “What? When? And you’re just mentioning this now?”

“They found Melvin’s body in the wreckage. The rest of his skeleton.”

He runs his hand through his hair, taking that in. “He always did want to be cremated,” he notes.

I snicker. “Unfortunately for him, the fire didn’t burn hot enough for that.

He’s still just a pile of bones. Next time, I plan to bury him in an unmarked grave.

No anonymous number, nothing. Or maybe we should take a cruise, and I’ll dump his remains overboard.

I going to make damn sure no one ever finds him again. ”

He chuckles, and for a moment, we stand in silence.

“I’m scared, Sam,” I tell him.

His hand bridges the distance between us, his fingers wrapping around mine. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the kids.”

“But what if something happens to you?” I ask. “Whoever’s doing this is going after my enemies. For all I know, you could be on that list. What if he comes for you next?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

I want to believe him, but that small voice in the back of my head just keeps asking: How can he know that for sure unless he’s the one behind the murders?

Later that night, I lie in bed awake, staring at the ceiling.

Sam sleeps beside me, his breaths coming in soft snores.

It’s too dark in the room to see his profile, but I don’t need light to remember every minute detail of it.

The peppering of scars along his temple, the old cut through his eyebrow, the small bump on the bridge of his nose.

I know this man.

He’s not a monster.

But then a tiny voice keeps whispering that I lived with Melvin Royal for over a decade without suspecting he was capable of evil.

I know what kind of man Sam is, I remind myself. He’s a soldier, someone who volunteered to fight for his country. A pilot, good under pressure. A partner who knows me in every way, who accepts my faults and neuroses. A father who adopted my kids—our kids.

He’s also one of the founders of the Lost Angels. He’s a man who was once so consumed with grief and rage that he tracked you across the country. He is a man capable of violence.

Madison asked if he’d killed anyone. I played it off, but the truth is, he has, and he did it to defend our family. When crazed, zealous cultists kidnapped Connor, Sam got taken along with him. It was a battle to get both of them back, and there’s no question Sam ended up with blood on his hands.

You said it before, Sam would do anything to protect his family.

Madison’s words haunt me. They’re true. He would. He has.

As much as I scream in my head over and over again that he wouldn’t do this, there’s the tiniest, most infinitesimal sliver of doubt. It’s the lack of an alibi. It’s the fact that he didn’t tell me about Leo reaching out to meet and that he tried to handle that all on his own.

Would he have ever told me?

If I’m being honest with myself, what would Sam have done if the meeting with Leo had taken place?

If Leo had shown up at their agreed location?

I already know Sam took his gun with him; they found it when they patted him down.

I’d like to believe Sam never would have resorted to violence, but Varrus attempted to ruin his life.

Leo not only set Sam up for a murder he didn’t commit, he taunted him about it afterward. It horrified and enraged Sam. Can I say with one hundred percent certainty that Varrus couldn’t have provoked Sam to drawing his gun and pulling the trigger?

No. Of course not.

But Sam wouldn’t have taken Leo to our house and murdered him there. He wouldn’t have brought that kind of spotlight and scrutiny into our lives.

Sam had been the one to clean the Stillhouse Lake house after Leo poured blood all over it. He was keenly aware of how difficult it is to clean up a crime scene. He wouldn’t have put himself through that again. That may sound petty, but it’s true.

I shake my head, furious that I’m even having this debate with myself. There’s no debate to be had. I know Sam.

But you knew Melvin too , that small voice reminds me. At least I thought I did. And while I had no idea what he was doing out in that garage, I did know something was off about him. I knew he liked to choke me during sex. He liked the fear in my eyes as I fell unconscious.

He liked violence.

And I chose to ignore it.

Maybe Rowan had a point when she said I’m complicit because I allowed myself to remain willfully ignorant. I didn’t like the part of Melvin that liked rough sex. It scared me. It shamed me. I didn’t want to think about it, or dwell on it, or contemplate what it might mean outside of the bedroom.

I didn’t want to ask what it said about Melvin as a human being because I didn’t want to know the answer. Some part of me knew that the answer would destroy my entire life .

As it did when that driver struck our garage.