When all is said and done, people will hate me. They will say bad things about me. I know this, but it is what it is.

I had to do it . . .

If she were here, she would say that despite her misgivings, I did the right thing and that, in time, I will be okay. So many times she insisted I would be okay if only I would move on. Forget the past. Never look back. But how could I do such a thing? How could I forget and pretend the past never happened?

Don’t look back . . . you will be okay.

Even now I hear her voice deep inside me.

As comforting as the sound is, the one thing I am very certain about is that I will never again be okay.

It is the price I must pay to finish this, and I will not fail. I have been far too careful with my planning.

The most essential part of the plan was to never tell another living soul.

No one—absolutely no one—could know the first, second, third . . . or even the last step until the time was right.

I learned the importance of keeping secrets when I was a child. My mother taught me well. She had many secrets. So many secrets. I have kept them all . . . just as she did. Ultimately some will be revealed . . . they are essential to the steps that must come.

But the rest will go with me to my grave.

I continue rubbing the ropes on my wrists back and forth, first one and then the other. Back and forth. Then I reach down and do the same to the one on my right ankle. Back and forth. Back and forth. My skin bleeds. I do not stop. I ignore the pain. It is necessary to the final step.

The neighbors will all have expressed the same things to the police. Such nice people. Quiet. Private. Always pleasant. Always smiling and happy.

They have no idea they only saw what I wanted them to see. They don’t know me. I’m invisible. No one knows me. Not the real me. They will hear about all the good I’ve done—I worked particularly hard to accomplish so much in a short time. It was essential. But they will never know about the bad.

The bad was necessary as well. It was part of the plan . . . the promise. There are things that must occur moving forward. Events that work as catalysts to others.

As the steps play out, there are certain players who are not completely in the dark. Those select few are well aware of their roles. At first each no doubt denied the idea; then the next step happened, and they were forced to see what they wanted desperately to deny. They know what I want them to know. See what I want them to see.

More importantly, they have each reacted exactly as I predicted. How easy it was to prompt the desired response at exactly the right time. Not one has or will see the finale coming until it’s too late.

They will all, including the police, search and dig for truth. They will never find it . . .

But the players in this game will be forced to recognize one undeniable lesson.

They did this to themselves.

8

Thursday, June 7

7:00 a.m.

Devlin Residence

Twenty-First Avenue South

Kerri slugged down the last of her coffee. Her fingers tightened around the mug. Tori hadn’t said a word when Kerri had rapped on her door and told her to come down for breakfast.

She stared at the cheese toast topped with a single pineapple ring—her daughter’s favorite. How had Tori gone from her little girl to this impossible-to-make-happy teenager in the span of a few short months?

It would be easy for Kerri to blame it on her ex. The bastard had skipped out on his daughter the same as he had her. Made sense that losing a father was far more difficult at thirteen than losing a husband at thirty-six. As angry as Kerri was, her daughter was hurt. The man had lost his ability to truly hurt Kerri about a year before he left. She had stopped counting on him to be the man she had thought she married.

Then again, she wasn’t exactly the woman he had married either. His accusations about her all-work-and-no-play attitude rang in her head.

She had just finished the academy when they met and married. He had already graduated from college and locked in his first big job offer. Life had been exciting and full of possibility. But the honeymoon phase didn’t last long. Their careers slowly but surely took over their lives, and the beautiful baby girl they so happily brought into the world became a bone of contention. Who was taking her to school? Picking her up? PTA meetings. School plays. Parents’ night. Birthday parties. Ball games. Band practice. Doctor appointments. Work was always in the way. Anger, frustration, and resentment had mired them deep in misery.

Poor Tori had been the innocent victim trapped in the slow, agonizing death of her parents’ marriage.

She had a right to be angry. The two people she had depended upon most had both let her down. Kerri and Nick with their career obsessions and, more recently, his lust for a younger, more attentive woman.

“I’m not hungry.”

Kerri turned at her daughter’s announcement. The girl busily typed on her cell phone as she made her way to the fridge, bypassing the breakfast Kerri had prepared. It wasn’t an elaborate spread, but it was an effort. Did effort no longer count? Smiles and laughter from days gone by—before hormones had invaded—whispered through Kerri’s mind. She resisted the urge to sigh for fear of flipping the switch that set off another round of deafening silence from her daughter.

“You have plans for today?” Somehow Kerri managed to ask the question in a neutral, almost amiable tone. She was tired of fighting with Tori. For now, she would be thrilled for five minutes of peace between them.

“Nothing special.” Tori opened the fridge door and reached for a soda. “Elise is coming over to work with me on that art project for the band fundraiser.”

Kerri clenched her jaw to prevent herself from reminding her daughter that one day soon all the sugar she consumed would come back to haunt her. Instead, she offered, “Sounds like fun. You need money to order Chinese or something?”

Tori scooted onto a stool at the island. “Her mom’s bringing lunch.”

“Great. Oh, I may be late again. We’re eyeball deep in a double homicide.”

“What’s new? You’re always late.” Same bland, indifferent tone.

Deep breath. “I’ll try my best to be home by six.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Tori opened her soda and took a swallow—all without once taking her eyes from the screen of her cell phone.

Kerri silently counted to ten, then announced, “I’ll call your dad today.”

Tori’s gaze shot to Kerri’s, her expression hopeful. “Awesome.”

Kerri poured herself another cup of coffee to buy some time for bracing before she went on: “He and I will come to some sort of agreement for when you’ll visit and for how long.”

Fury instantly replaced the hope that had dared to make an appearance on Tori’s sweet face. How could a child emit such contempt for the person who had brought her into this world?

“I’m leaving a week from Monday, the eighteenth,” she snapped. “And I won’t be back until just before school starts. Dad already bought my airline tickets.”

“That’s not going to happen, Tori.” Kerri clutched her mug of coffee. “Two weeks is long enough.” She opted not to mention that it was also in the legal documents she and Tori’s father had signed—a point he had conveniently forgotten.

Her daughter shot to her feet, her glare turning accusatory. “You just want me to be as miserable as you are.”

Before Kerri could come up with a logical and reasonably calm response, her daughter had stamped out of the room. Kerri closed her eyes and shook her head. She wasn’t trying to punish Tori. She wasn’t sticking to her guns for revenge against her ex or to prove she was in charge since she had primary custody. The truth was, Kerri was terrified that if she allowed her to spend the summer with her father in his new glamorous city, the next step would be her moving there permanently. Nick would love nothing better than to entice Tori into a game of Let’s Punish Mom. He’d done it so many times before. She couldn’t bear to see him manipulate their daughter, particularly since the stakes were so high—much higher than ever before. In the end, he would let her down. He always had.

Still, what if Tori had a point? Kerri wasn’t at home nearly as much as she should be, no matter that she’d sworn things would be different after Nick left. School was out. Tori was no doubt lonely. This was her first summer without her dad. Kerri didn’t want her to be unhappy.

Before she could analyze the troubling idea any further, her cell vibrated, and she snatched the welcome distraction from the table. She checked the screen. Nick. She dropped onto the nearest stool. Tori had probably called him or sent him a text and complained.

Kerri steeled herself once more and accepted the call. “I’m not changing my mind,” she said rather than the usual greeting of What do you want? He was damned lucky she didn’t tack on what she really thought—asshole.

“You’re being unreasonable, Kerri.”