Page 52 of Darkwater Lane (Stillhouse Lake #7)

Madison’s voice echoes through the car. I turn up the volume.

“You can be mistaken for missing it. Unlike other well-known serial killers, Melvin’s grave isn’t marked.

It’s meant to be anonymous. Just a number: 820724.

A simple gray stone in a sea of green grass. Though no secrets stay buried forever.”

My heart thumps erratically in my chest. That’s Melvin’s grave number; there’s no doubt about that. How does she know it? I feel sick to my stomach.

No secrets stay buried forever .

Those words can’t be a coincidence. It’s impossible. To the casual listener, that phrase would mean nothing. But when you know that Melvin’s grave was robbed—when you realize his body was dug up—it means everything.

When Madison recorded the podcast, she knew where Melvin’s grave was. More than that, she knew he was no longer buried there.

But when did she record this? Then I remember her mentioning the lush green grass. The grass today was brittle and yellow. Which means she was likely there in the summer or fall at the latest.

Before any of the sickos had been murdered.

I clamp a hand over my mouth.

The earliest anyone could have figured out that Melvin’s grave had been robbed was when that first bone was found in Cooper Kuntz’s throat. Even then, they didn’t figure out the bone belonged to Melvin until they ran the DNA tests this winter.

Madison couldn’t have known last summer about Melvin’s grave being robbed unless she was the one who robbed it.

It seems impossibly far-fetched. But the evidence is too strong to dismiss.

Madison Westcott is the sicko killer.

And she’s living right fucking next door to my family.

In a panic, I call Sam. He answers immediately. “Hey, honey, you almost back?”

At the sound of his voice, I have to swallow back tears at the sting of guilt that lances through me. How could I have ever suspected him of all those murders? How could I have believed he would do something like that and keep it from me.

“You and the kids safe?” I ask breathlessly. “Where are you? ”

His voice pitches with alarm. “We’re all at Javi and Kez’s. Everyone’s fine. Is there something I need to know?”

I blow out a breath of relief that they’re not at home. I notice my hands are trembling and tighten them around the steering wheel to get them to stop.

“Are you armed?”

“You’re scaring me, Gwen.”

“It’s Madison Westcott,” I say.

I can hear his confusion. “Who is?”

“The sicko serial killer.”

There’s a long pause. “What? I think I missed something.”

“When I first met with her, she gave me a USB drive with her original podcast episodes on it. I forgot about them at first and was never super interested in listening because I thought the original podcast was vile enough. Why subject myself to more? But I ended up listening on the plane, and she mentioned Melvin’s grave. ”

“Oookayyy.” It’s not that he doesn’t believe me. It’s that he doesn’t follow what I’m saying.

“When I talked to the caretaker at the cemetery, he said that a woman used to visit the grave a couple of years ago, right around the time the ground was salted and robbed. I know I said earlier it was Rowan, but what if it was Madison”

“Did you show them a picture of Madison and ask if they recognized her?”

“No, I showed them a photo of Rowan because she was the most likely suspect. They didn’t recognize her. They just said the woman had dark hair and always wore a hat, but that could have been Madison in disguise.”

“I still don’t see how you’re making the connection here, Gwen.”

“She knows Melvin’s grave number,” I tell him.

“In the podcast, she recites the number. She says it was meant to stay anonymous but that no secrets stay buried forever. That was the exact quote: ‘ No secrets stay buried forever .’ Just like Melvin’s body.

She knows, Sam. She knows because she’s the one who dug him up. ”

“You said she mentions the grave number in the episode. What if someone else somehow heard it and they were the ones that dug him up?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “His body was already gone when she recorded that. That’s why it didn’t matter if she told the world where he was buried. And don’t forget, she was in Knoxville to meet us when Leo was murdered. She was the reason we left the house in the first place.”

Sam still doesn’t seem convinced.

“During one of our interviews, she compared you to Melvin. She suggested that you had me fooled the same way Melvin did. She was trying to turn me against you, Sam.”

That hits. I can hear his growl through the car speakers. “Fuck.”

I need you to call Mike and fill him in,” I tell him. “I’m about twenty minutes outside Norton, where cell service gets a little patchy. I should be there soon.”

“Absolutely,” he says.

“Call me back and let me know if they want me to go straight to the Norton PD to give a statement tonight.”

“Will do.”

“And Sam? I love you.”

I hear the smile in his voice. “I love you too. Come home to me safe.”

I tell him I will and end the call. I push the car faster, anxious to get back. Giddy that I’ve figured out who the sicko killer is, and it’s not Sam I’ll have to deal with the guilt of having doubted him later.

By the time I reach Norton, I still haven’t heard from Sam. I try calling him again, but it goes straight to voicemail .

Worst-case scenarios spiral through my head. What if Madison figured out where they were? What if she went after them?

When my call doesn’t go through again, I try Lanny. Thankfully, she picks up. “What’s up, Mom?”

“Where are you?”

She sounds confused. “At Kez’s, why?”

“I’m trying to get ahold of Sam but he’s not picking up. Can you put him on for me?”

“Sam’s not here.”

My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“He went out after you called.”

“Out where?”

“He didn’t say.”

I try to keep my panic under control. “Can you do me a favor and pull up the location app? Does that show where he is?”

Lanny’s instantly alert. She can tell by the tone of my voice that there’s a problem. She does exactly what I ask. “Looks like he went back home.”

“The Stillhouse Lake house?” I ask.

“Yeah, home.”

What are you doing, Sam ? I think to myself.

I’m sitting at one of the few stoplights in Norton. A right will take me out to Javi and Kez’s. A left will take me to the lake.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. I turn left and hit the gas.

“Everything okay, Mom?”

“I need you to keep your brother safe, okay? Lock the doors, tell Kez and Javi that we should be back soon but to keep an eye out until then.”

I can hear her wanting to ask questions, but she doesn’t. She knows the drill. “Be careful, Mom. I love you.”

I will never get tired of hearing those words. “I love you too, honey.”

Less than ten minutes later, I veer onto the road that circles Stillhouse Lake. I tried calling Sam again, but he still didn’t pick up. “Please, be home,” I murmur under my breath. “Please, don’t have done anything stupid.”

Finally I pull into our driveway and let out a sigh of relief when I find Sam’s truck parked in his usual spot. “Thank God,” I breathe. I swear if he just came back here to pick something up and for some reason left his phone in the truck, I’m going to kill him myself.

I’ve barely thrown the SUV in park before I’m out and racing to the house. I throw open the door, ready to give him a piece of my mind for scaring me. I’m several steps inside before I realize that something’s wrong.

The alarm. It’s not beeping. Which means, it wasn’t armed.

I freeze. My hand twitches, wanting to reach for the shoulder holster I’m not wearing.

I listen, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary.

There’s the tick of the freezer as a fresh batch of ice cubes falls into the automatic dispenser.

The soft whoosh of the heat through the vents.

Out on the lake, there’s the irregular chug of a boat trawling near shore.

Slowly, keeping to the shadows, I slip into the kitchen.

I sift through the junk drawer, my hand brushing against the folding utility knife Javi and Kez gave me as a housewarming gift when we moved back from Knoxville.

I slide it into my pocket, then unlock the secret compartment at the back of the drawer and pull out the . 32 I have hidden there.

Now armed, I let out a breath of relief.

I sweep through the house quickly, but it’s empty.

I find myself back in the living room near the front door, trying to understand.

Setting the alarm is like breathing—such an automatic reflex that we don’t even think about it.

None of the kids or Sam would ever leave without resetting it.

He was here. I know he was. And then he left without resetting the alarm.

I don’t want to admit the thought that’s been nagging me since I talked to Lanny.

It doesn’t escape me that within seconds of me telling Sam that Madison was the killer that he took off.

He has every right to be furious with her for what she’s put him through—put us through—but I’m worried his rage might take over and get him into trouble.

I have to stop him before he does something stupid.

Keeping the gun by my side, I slip outside and race up the hill toward Madison’s cabin. As I near, I notice the front door hanging open, and my heart lurches. My first instinct is to race toward it, but I hold myself back.

Instead, I pull my phone from my pocket and hastily dial 911. The operator picks up and starts into the standard spiel, but I cut her off. “Stillhouse Lake. The old hunting cabin by Gwen Proctor’s house. Call Diakos, he’ll understand.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to slow down. Do you need ambulance, fire, or police?”

“Yes, send them all.”

“What’s the nature of the emergency?”

I’m still staring at the open door to Madison’s cabin, waiting for any hint of movement. There’s nothing. I don’t want to tell them that I think my partner might be armed and dangerous. That it might already be too late.

“I don’t know,” I tell them instead. Until I know for sure what’s going on, I’m not throwing Sam under the bus.

“Ma’am—”

“Detective Diakos will understand,” I interrupt. “Tell him Gwen Proctor called it in.” Then I hang up.

I approach the cabin in a crouch, cringing at the sound of my steps through old fallen leaves and sticks. I circle the property, trying to get a look inside, but the lights are all out. If I didn’t know better, I would say it was abandoned.

I slowly climb the stairs, keeping myself at an angle so as not to provide anyone a direct shot through the open front door.

Though the reality is, if someone’s inside, they had plenty of opportunity to take me out already.

Which means either the place is empty, or whoever is in there isn’t paying attention.

I slip through the open door, my steps light.

Moonlight filters through one of the windows, providing enough light for me to see that not only is the main room empty, but it has also been trashed.

A chair lies on its side, the coffee table is cracked, and a large planter has been shattered, spilling dirt everywhere.

It looks like there was a struggle. I’m familiar enough with the cabin that I’m able to clear it quickly. I end up back by the front door, my eyes skimming the destruction. There are footprints in the potting soil strewn across the floor. At least two sets—one larger than the other.

What the fuck happened? Where is Madison? Where’s Sam?

There’s something I’m missing. Some clue I overlooked. Think, Gwen, think!

Then it comes to me. The thing that’s been causing my internal alarms to spike: the engine I heard earlier.

The uneven put-put-put of an old boat pulling away from the shore.

It’s winter—dark and cold—and there’s absolutely no reason for anyone to be out on the water at this time of night. Not any good reason, at least.

I step outside and stare at the lake, a giant pool of darkness dominating the landscape. A small light flickers offshore—a boat slowly chugging away from the dock.

I think of Rowan, her body thrown into the water the night before. I think of the two women Lancel Graham killed four years ago, also tossed into the lake. I won’t let it happen again.

Sam may not be the one behind the Sicko Patrol murders, but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to kill to protect us. I refuse to let him do it. I won’t let him kill her. Not to save Madison but to save our family.

No one else dies. Melvin’s legacy ends now.