Page 73 of So My Ex-Boyfriend is a Serial Killer

Hana turns back to me. “What does Noah say about it?”

“He wants whatever will help me sleep well at night.”

“I thought he might come today.”

I shake my head. “There’ll be media there. Best not to have him in the pictures. And they had a big function happening at his work.”

“What about you, Muriel?” asks Hana. “Not tempted to hit the talk circuit or write a book?”

She wrinkles her nose. “No. I think I’ll leave all of that to you two and just get on with the work.”

“Fair enough,” I say with a smile.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A year later…

“What do you think?” asks Noah, joining me on the deck.

“That it’s amazing.”

“It really is, isn’t it? I can picture us living here.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

He slides an arm around my neck as we both stare out at the water. The house is nothing less than a dream. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and uninterrupted views of Lake Champlain. Over a hundred years old but recently renovated. Surrounded by mature oak trees with enough distance between us and the neighbors for privacy. Which is important. All of this and it’s within walking distance to a dog park. With the added bonus that no one has been killed here so far as we know. It makes a nice change from our current home.

Ryan was right about there being money in murder. It’s how we can afford this house. My book will be out next year. Telling my side of the story…getting my point of view out there with the help of a ghostwriter…it wound up feeling like the best way to put the entire fucked-up experience behind me. To discuss it in depth once and then move on with my life. Guess Grace was right about me needing to talk about it after all. Half of the profits from the book are going to charities, so I can sleep at night.

Muriel still has no interest in talking to the press. I don’t blame her. Though Hana is enjoying hitting the true crime conference circuit. The story of our search for the missing women deserves to be told. More awareness needs to be raised around this issue. How much damage my ex and people like him do to families and communities and society as a whole. Andleaving it to theMisleddocumentary and podcast people didn’t sit right with us. They tried to pivot after my ex’s escape and death, but it didn’t even remotely stop their bias from shining through.

There are still segments of the internet who think I killed Ryan and corrections officer Maggie Young for fun. That I revealed the location of the women’s bodies I had also slain for the heck of it or something. Some people just love a conspiracy.

It will surprise approximately no one that Laura continues working hard to push this theory. She still turns up on media now and then to shed her pretty tears and bemoan the loss of her boyfriend. At least she’s stayed the hell away from me. I am okay with her being scared of me now if it means no more stalking.

Noah moved in with me and Auggie once his rental was done. We flew to California at the end of last year so I could meet his family. And after a lot of discussion, we wound up deciding not to leave this corner of the world. Noah wanted to partner in the restaurant with Ivy. And we made peace with Jade once it became obvious to most everyone that I had nothing to do with the women going missing. Thank goodness.

But the point is Noah was happy with his move to Vermont and the new life here with me. And when it comes down to it, I didn’t really want to live in a different city than my friends. However, we are moving to the northern suburbs of the city for a change of scenery. It is time.

I was worried the old house would be hard to sell given its grisly history. Fortunately, the real estate market is moving fast right now, and I’ve already accepted an offer.

One thing that’s continued to haunt me, however, is what Ryan said about me getting a taste for it. For killing other people. While he was wrong about the temptation to kill, he did awaken a hunger for getting justice. By any means necessary.

I knew that after the book mania quieted down, I’d help Murial with the hard work of finding out who killed those other missing women. And if I had the opportunity to take out another killer? It scared me to think just how easy it would be. But that was a moral dilemma for another day.

“Are we buying it or what?” asks Noah, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Yeah.” I take hold of the hand hanging over my shoulder and smile. Him, the view of the water, and this house are all perfect. Just perfect. “I think we’re going to be really happy here.”