Page 55 of Secrets Along the Shore

Sophia needed me.

Theyneeded me.

The victims.

The dead.

They needed me to feel for them. To infuse their stories with humanity, when justice sought only facts. For it was in humanity that the heart beats the strongest.

It may have been ten years since I’d walked from the grave alive. But it was today my heart started to beat again.

EPILOGUE

AFTER

It was laterthat I found out the truth.

That night, in my room, when he had opened the door and then vanished? When I’d had an intruder who made no sound, was caught on no camera, and yet, I could sense him with every pore of my being?

Yeah. That night.

That was the night I’d gone to Livia’s, and it wasn’t until a few weeks after my stay in the hospital that I moved out of Livia’s and back to my apartment.

Nothing else happened. My life was returning to a manageable normal—although I knew it’d never be normal compared to others.

But then Toby told me about his last night at the bar with Alan before it all “went down.” Before Toby found out who Alan was when he was exposed.

What night at the bar?I’d asked. Something had told me to ask. I don’t know why. I hadn’t put the pieces together yet. But I could see them. Strewn across the table of my mind, creating a new picture.

That night, Toby had said,the night your place was broken into and you moved to your friend’s house.

They were at the bar.

Together.

Toby and Alan, until 3 AM.

I had called 911 at half-past midnight.

That was when I found out the truth about that night. While Alan had never admitted to being in my apartment, we’d assumed he had been. It matched his growing obsession, and his gaining awareness that I was involved with finding Sophia.

But it couldn’t have been Alan. That night in my apartment? It couldn’t have been him. Toby was Alan’s alibi.

The worst part about it all was when I did the dishes. I hadn’t done them in weeks because I hadn’t been at home. But now, it was time. I had a pan to wash, and a bowl, and a fork. I’d made macaroni and cheese from a box. Gourmet, I know.

I leaned over and opened my cupboard door and I wouldn’t have seen it but the dust pan I stored under the sink fell against it. When I positioned it back in place, that’s when I saw the inside of the cupboard door. The crude carving etched there where it had never been before.

The snake.

In the basket.

TheSerpent Killer.

He had been the one in my apartment that night. I had said I could smell him, but I’d chalked it up to my imagination, just like my sightings of Sophia and the visions of her murder.It was all in my head. At least, that is what I’d assumed.

Only it wasn’t.

So the cold facts are this—and I really am not good with facts—that the grave follows me wherever I go.

I know it will never stop.

But this time, something is different.

I have been awakened.

I’m no longer shut down and silenced.

So,Iwill never stop.

I have found my purpose. I will give a voice to the voiceless. To the victims. To the ones who cannot speak for themselves. And in the end, I will find him, and I will become my own voice.