“As I said, he’s your husband.”

“So, you think I made him hit Travis with the car? Is that what you’re saying?” I asked, baffled.

“As I said, there’s an investigation into your part in this incident as well, yes.”

I leaned back. I hadn’t thought about that. “Oh.”

The Chief nodded in understanding.

“I will, of course, help you however I can.”

“Yes, of course, and I appreciate that. I really do,” I said.

“Just understand that my hands are tied,” he said.

“Naturally. That makes good sense,” I said.

He smiled. “All right then.”

I could tell he was eager to get me to leave, but I wasn’t going to give in. I got up and walked closer to him. His eyes were watching me when I stopped in front of him.

“I really think I’m on to something, though. Don’t you want to hear what it is?”

He took in a deep annoyed breath then threw out his arms. “You just won’t quit, will you?”

“No. Not till you hear me out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, then. What is so important you absolutely have to come here to my house and tell me?”

I paused, then took a step closer again. “I think Marissa Clemens is Kitty Durham.”

“Remind me again, who is Kitty Durham?” he said.

“She was the girl who went missing when I worked at Ridge Manor PD, when I was in training to become a detective, fourteen years ago. Under Travis Walker.”

“Ah, that’s right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I remember that one. She disappeared on her way to the school bus and was never found, right?”

“Right. I was on the case, but… well, I had to leave—”

“Because of that story with your partner, yes. I have recently been reminded of that.”

Story. It wasn’t a story. His words made me feel embarrassed, like I had caused him trouble for making something up. He had never made a comment like that before. It made me uncomfortable. Yet I continued unabated.

“I know it might be farfetched, but hear me out,” I said.

“I have a feeling I don’t have a choice in the matter,” he said and squirmed in the leather chair.

I sat across from him and started to explain. “Here’s my theory. What if the kidnapper, the one who took Kitty Durham, what if he was from our town or nearby area? What if he lives here in Cocoa Beach?”

“And what makes you come to that conclusion?” he asked, scrutinizing me like I had gone mad.

“I think she escaped her kidnappers somehow. But she didn’t run very far.”

SEVENTY-TWO

Then

Kitty knew she had to act quickly. Her desperation gave her an energy she hadn’t felt for months, and she scrambled out of the shed, running as best she could despite her swollen belly, her feet slipping on the wet grass as she tore across the yard. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she ran up the steps of the main house, her eyes searching for her three children.

When she finally saw them, asleep in their beds, she burst into tears. She wanted to take them with her, but there was no time. She had to make a decision and she had to make it now.

Just then, a figure emerged from the shadows. She advanced on Kitty, her voice filled with scorn.

“You’re not taking these children anywhere,” she spat. “They’re my children.”

Kitty’s chest constricted with fear, but she refused to be intimidated. She backed up. And that’s when she saw it. The gun in Linda’s hand. She gasped and stared at it. Then she decided something. She bent forward, then ran headfirst into Linda’s stomach, clutching and protecting her belly, causing the gun to fall to the floor. And then they fought. Punches fell and Kitty received one on her chin that sent spasms of pain through her entire body, and several more on her cheeks and nose. She grunted in restraint, then grabbed the woman by the throat and used her weight to press her down.

“They’re my children,” she hissed, while tightening the grip on her throat and pressing. This was for all the years she had lost in that shed; this was for all the times Damian had raped her in there. And finally, this was for all the children they had taken from her, leaving her with only grief and sadness.

“This is for all you ever did to hurt me,” she whispered. “And for you letting it happen when you could have stopped it.”

Then she reached over, grabbed the gun from the floor, lifted it and fired. She shot her right in the forehead and, panting, Kitty stared at the hole in her head. She was fascinated by how easy it had been, and how small it was. Linda’s eyes stared empty at her, and her body became limp underneath her.

“What have I done?” she exclaimed, then rose to her feet. “What have I done?”

In desperation she opened the window and threw out the gun. The children had woken up with the sound of the gun going off, and they were staring at her, shaking in one another’s arms. She looked at them, and they looked at her.

“No, don’t cry,” she said. “I’m… I’m…”

But it was futile. The children had no idea who she was. They cried and shook, and then one of them screamed. Seconds later she heard the front door slam open, and she could hear someone enter, groaning loudly.

“Where are you?”

It was Damian.

Kitty knew she had to run, but she didn’t know where to go, and she couldn’t leave the children. She didn’t want to. Yet there was no other way. At least not for now. She would have to come back for them later.

The last thing she saw before dashing out the door were the children clinging to one another in fear. She stormed out the back door, hearing Damian growl as he hurried up the stairs. Then she ran. Against all odds, against the heaviness of her stomach and the pain stemming from the beginning of her contractions, she ran, and ran, and ran, through the dark of the night, the rain falling on her like little stars from the sky, and she didn’t stop until the wetness of her clothes had seeped into her skin.

Kitty looked around and realized she was surrounded by trees. She sat down on a log and looked at the night sky, her hand supporting her stomach, while the pain came and went. She sat there and listened to the sound of the tree frogs and cicadas. The sky seemed endless, even if it was covered in clouds, and the rain pouring nonstop on her face. It was a feeling and a sight she had only dreamed of for years.

“What have I done?” she gasped, and then closed her eyes, and wept. “I killed someone.”

Kitty took a deep breath and rose to her feet, regaining her strength. She let out a cry and ran like the wind, away from the madness and the fuss, she ran right out of her past.

She didn’t stop till she reached a small neighborhood, where she spotted a house, but more important, she noticed it had a small shed in the backyard. Feeling overwhelmed with weariness, she opened the gate and went inside the yard, then ran toward the shed and got inside. She collapsed on the floor, worn out by exhaustion.

Minutes later, she heard a noise by the door and lifted her head with a gasp.