“Kelly doesn’t need her name cleared. She didn’t do anything wrong. She isn’t—” Christine’s voice shook with anger.

Rachel didn’t hear the rest as she moved ahead to give them space to talk. It was clear to her they’d been having the same discussion for days. Going round and round in circles. They were running out of time. It was Saturday night. If Kelly was to testify on Monday morning, they’d need to spend all of Sunday getting her emotionally prepared. Perhaps even letting Mitch Alkins or his people prepare her for the cross-examination.

Dan strode past Rachel, walking off after the angry exchange with his wife. Rachel hung back, waiting for Christine, who was dabbing her eyes when she caught up to Rachel. Both women walked together in silence, deliberately lagging behind Dan, not even trying to catch up. He walked fast and disappeared around the next headland, out of their line of sight.

It was getting darker and visibility was becoming poor. They walked a little longer until they heard the groan of timber as the Morrison’s Point jetty swayed in the wind and tide farther along.

When they caught up with him, he was waiting, staring at the dark outline of the jetty as if afraid to get too close. “I didn’t realize that we’d come so far.” He gave a shiver. “Always hated this place.” He abruptly turned away and marched back toward the marina.

“He looks as if he’s being chased by the devil,” Rachel said to Christine as they watched him stride ahead down the beach.

“Dan blames himself for what happened to Kelly,” Christine said. “He says it would never have happened if he had agreed to move to Portland to live near my folks when he left the navy. Instead, we came here. He insisted on it. Despite his terrible childhood, he felt this was where he belonged.”

“In what way was his childhood terrible?” Rachel asked in surprise. His father was the town’s police chief. Rachel had assumed that he’d had an easy, protected childhood.

Christine shook her head sadly. She told Rachel that when Dan was twelve his dad had beaten him so brutally that he was taken to the hospital with a skull fracture. Chief Moore told the attending doctor that Dan had gone flying while doing a dangerous jump on his skateboard. “The doctor bought it,” she said. “He had no reason to doubt Police Chief Russ Moore.

“Dan’s mom killed herself a year earlier. The medical examiner said it was an accidental overdose. Nobody accidentally takes a dozen Valium. Dan said she couldn’t take the beatings anymore. Once his mother had gone, his childhood was spent trying to keep out of his father’s way. Thank goodness for the navy. It was the making of him.”

“In what way?” Rachel asked.

“It softened his rough edges. It grounded him. It gave him values. He’s a devoted father, and a wonderful husband,” she said. “Dan does a lot of charity work. He cares about the community. He cares about this town. That’s why this situation has hit him especially hard. The way the town has become divided. The acrimony. People turning against Kelly, against our family. Casting aspersions on her character. He can’t let it go. It’s killing him.”

She lowered her voice when she saw her husband had stopped and was waiting for them on the boardwalk. The tide was coming in hard, eating up the beach. The two women climbed back onto the boardwalk together. The lights of the marina flickered in the distance. As they came closer, they could hear music from the outdoor restaurants.

“I’ll miss Neapolis once we’re gone,” said Christine wistfully.

“You’re leaving town?” Rachel asked.

“I’m taking Kelly to live near my parents. Dan will stay to sell the business and the house. He’ll join us as soon as he can,” Christine said. But there was a tinge to her voice that suggested he might never join them. Rachel got the impression that if Dan Moore insisted his daughter take the stand the family—and the marriage—would never recover.

When they reached the car, Dan took his wife’s hands and looked into her eyes. “On the walk back, I thought about what you said, honey. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I’m not going to make any more. I won’t fight you on Kelly. I have to believe that Scott Blair will be punished. Sometime, somewhere, he will be punished for what he did to my little girl.” He shook his head. “But you are right; Kelly doesn’t have to be the one to make that happen.”

Rachel watched Dan and Christine drive away. Their minds were made up. Kelly Moore was not taking the stand on Monday. The trial was over.

48

Rachel

Rachel sat on her bed listening to the dial tone. Mitch Alkins hadn’t sounded surprised when she told him that Kelly would not be in court come Monday. It was almost as if he’d already resigned himself to that outcome. He must have known the fierce protectiveness of Kelly’s mother would win out against her father’s thirst for revenge.

Alkins had sounded so dejected that Rachel couldn’t bring herself to ask if he’d located Jenny Stills’s autopsy report or found out anything about the circumstances surrounding her death. He’d promised he would look into it, and she believed him. Once the trial was over, Rachel was certain that he’d follow through.

Hannah’s last email had troubled Rachel greatly. Remembering what had happened that night was clearly taking a terrible toll on her. Rachel could feel it in every word, every syllable. She’d briefly considered sharing the letters with Detective Cooper but decided against it. She didn’t have Hannah’s permission to share her story, and Rachel didn’t want to betray her trust.

Rachel brushed her teeth and prepared for bed, feeling restless and sad after her nighttime walk with Kelly’s parents. Scott Blair would go free. His good name would likely be restored. He’d claim that he was the victim of a false accusation. Many would believe him.

Maybe he’d make it to the Olympics and win gold, as his father had proudly predicted that day when Rachel visited their house. Or maybe his name would be tarnished enough, or his confidence and fitness so damaged by his suspension from competitive swimming, that he’d never get back to peak athletic condition. Time would tell.

While Scott would never spend a night in prison, Rachel was certain that Kelly’s name would be mud forever, much like Jenny’s. The Blair supporters would smear her as a vindictive teenager who’d refused to be cross-examined to avoid being exposed as a liar.

As for Kelly’s supporters, they wouldn’t forgive Kelly for giving up. Deep down, they would resent her failure to stay the course, and they’d secretly blame her for making it harder for other victims to come forward in the future.

Kelly would never be free. Never fully recover. Her childhood had been irreparably damaged by that night on the beach. Her family was fleeing town like persecuted emigres. Their lives and livelihood uprooted so she could start fresh in a new town, a new school. Perhaps even with a new name. Christine was right. It shouldn’t rest on the shoulders of a young girl. But it did.

Rachel collapsed on her bed, lying on top of the covers and staring at the ceiling. She’d been so consumed with the podcast and the minutiae of the trial that she hadn’t had a chance to take a step back. To get perspective. As she lay on her bed, she was hit by a niggling feeling that she’d missed something. She’d had that feeling before and brushed it off. But this time she was certain.

Rachel scrambled through the pile of notebooks on her desk until she’d found the notebook filled with her own messy shorthand of Kelly Moore’s testimony. She flicked through the pages until she was three-quarters of the way through the notebook.

There was an old plaid shirt on me. It was a huge shirt. It was tucked under me like a blanket. I don’t know where the shirt came from because Scott hadn’t worn a shirt like that.

Rachel pulled out her file with Hannah’s letters. She lay flat on the bed and read the letters one by one. The green glow of the clock shifted its shape as time passed. As Rachel finished each letter, she tossed it on her bed and unfolded another one. And another. Until she reached the latest emails from Hannah. Rachel found something that made her jolt up in surprise. She turned on the lamp next to her bed to read the passage again. She wanted to be certain.

Jenny was trembling so badly I could hear her teeth chattering. I peered out from under the canvas sheet. Bobby was unbuttoning his shirt. It frightened me to see him get undressed. When he’d removed his shirt, he put it over Jenny and tucked it under her like a blanket.