Page 53

Fourteen Months Since Megan’s Escape

A fter handing Nate’s profile off to Sheriff McDonald, Livia busied herself with work, escaping the anxiety of waiting for answers by delving into the bodies that came to her morgue.

She no longer, as she admitted she had once done, looked at those bodies as a way to advance her career or as an opportunity to showcase her skills and outperform her colleagues.

The last three months had taught her that each life deserved the proper respect of discovering the answers it left behind.

For Dr. Livia Cutty, the only way she could find those answers was by examining the bodies that came to her.

Respectfully and honorably, without ulterior motives of career advancement or personal gain but, instead, with a singular goal of providing information to the family about the cause of their loved one’s demise.

If she did that honestly, and to the best of her ability, the collateral rewards would come.

It took the last several weeks to plant the seed of this epiphany.

And the last few days, after she handed over all her hard work and research to the authorities and entrusted them to find the answers she had come so close to discovering on her own, had reminded her that others were waiting just like she.

Others were hoping for answers, and they had placed their trust in young Livia Cutty to provide closure.

Livia would do her best to serve those people, and not herself.

Perhaps it was a metamorphosis all medical examiners experience.

Or maybe this insight was the elusive thing Dr. Colt hinted would come sometime during her training.

Whatever it was, Livia was a different person today than she had been when she arrived at the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner back in July.

She prepared to bury herself in the riddles that rested on her autopsy table for as long as it took the authorities to examine her preliminary findings and turn them into something more substantial.

This long haul was what she readied for.

But as she paged through a textbook at ten p.m., a phone call changed her plans.

She was surprised to hear Megan’s voice.

“I need to see you,” Megan said.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Your dad said I should give you some space.”

“I don’t care about any of that. I need to see you tonight.”

“Tonight? What’s wrong?”

“I know,” Megan said. “I finally know.”

* * *

Megan forced herself to lie still under the covers after she ended her call with Livia.

Her mother was back on the prowl of late, since the nightmares started again, and had reacquired the annoying habit of peeking her head into Megan’s bedroom to check on her.

Stirring in bed would draw her mother’s attention.

Something tonight, more than any other, Megan needed to avoid.

It would take two hours for Livia to make the drive from Raleigh, but Megan knew she couldn’t stay still for long.

It would be impossible to tolerate the throbbing in her carotid artery for much longer.

It had come to her. She had solved the last year of her life.

The tumultuous fourteen months that had unfolded since the moment she saw Mr. Steinman’s headlights on Highway 57 and sat in his car.

More than a year of mystery had stretched along the road of her life since then, and now she finally had things straight.

With her revelation, though, came an irrational fear that the secrets she had discovered buried in her mind would be broadcast to the world.

That if she spent one more day attempting to tie up the details, her discovery would spill for the world to see and it would be too late.

She thought of the girls Livia had discovered—Nancy and Paula—and the others who might still be out there.

A nauseous ache turned her stomach. She couldn’t risk waiting. It had to be tonight.

Forty-five minutes passed before the pulsing in her neck grew too great to bear.

She considered briefly that her catharsis might be causing a panic attack.

But Megan knew the throbbing vessels and beading perspiration were her sympathetic nervous system telling her to move.

Her mind was preparing her body for fight or flight, and there was no one in her house to fight. So she ran.

Megan stuck three pillows under her covers for anyone who might check on her tonight, snaked into a pair of jeans, and dropped her phone into her pocket.

She was careful when she slipped out the back door, took the stairs with silent steps, glided across the back lawn and into the night.

Solving the mystery of her life had not answered all her questions.

Why this had happened to her she couldn’t quite figure.

But her dream the other night, when she saw Livia in the window of the commuter train as it blurred past the cellar window, told her that no one else could help tonight. She needed Livia.

Megan made it to the intersection with more than forty minutes to spare before Livia would arrive. She stood in the shadows and tried to breathe. Tried to push from her mind the thought that with each minute that passed, the monster would learn of her discovery.