“I will,” she promises, beaming at the sight of her friend peering out behind her mom. She pulls away from me, calling over her shoulder, “Love you, mommy!”

  “I love you too, sweet girl!” Fighting through a rush of tears, I rise to my feet and look Josephine’s mom in the eye. “Can I have a minute of your time before I go?”

  “I’m listening,” she bites out.

  “Out here, where the girls can’t overhear us.”

  Her mouth becomes as rigid as stone when she glances into the house where the girls are already playing with Josephine’s dolls. “I suppose that would be okay,” she decides, stepping onto the front step and firmly closing the door behind her. She crosses her arms, impatiently waiting for me to speak.

  Something icky and hot, like embarrassment, floods through my limbs. Even if I were to apologize for everything I’ve done, I doubt she could muster the will to forgive me. “I…um…just wanted to let you know we’re spending the night in Elk Neck. I bought a property a few miles off the main highway, straight east of the hair salon at the edge of town. It’s a small shack, barely visible from the highway.”

  “Sounds romantic,” she replies in a clipped tone. “Anything else?”

  I shift my weight, wishing I could disappear so I wouldn’t have to feel the weight of her judgment. “In case I don’t show up in the morning⁠—”

  Her judgmental gaze sharpens. “Are you planning to abandon your daughter?”

  “No. Never,” I swear. “I love that little girl with all my heart. It’s just…there’s something important in her overnight bag, wrapped in the quilt I made her that she can’t sleep without. Promise me you’ll protect it with your life. If I disappear, I need you to turn it over to the proper authorities.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll know what it is when you see it.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she lets out a disapproving tsk. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing⁠—”

  I forcefully grip her forearm. “I need you to promise you won’t release her to her father, no matter what.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she snarls, attempting to pry my fingers loose.

  “Please,” I beg through a rush of tears. “I value her life more than my own. Surely, as a parent, you can relate to that feeling. Promise you’ll protect her like she’s yours.”

  Holding my desperate stare, her angry expression begins to fade and her defensive posture relaxes. For a sliver of a moment, I feel a connection form between us—mother to mother.

  She abandons her efforts to release my hand and gives a definitive dip of her chin. “Okay, Marianna. I promise to protect her at all costs.”

  When I begin to retract my arm, she holds it in place and gives me a stern look. “If you’re in some kind of danger⁠—”

  “You can’t get involved,” I say, yanking away from her. “It’s not safe.”

  Her lips peel back with a sneer. “Marianna⁠—”

  “There’s only one way this can end,” I interrupt with a firm head shake.

  Too choked up to say anything more, I walk away.

  “You’re late,” he tells me as I enter with an armload of groceries. He’s sitting on the edge of the shack’s only furniture—a worn cot—in nothing more than his underwear and a white undershirt. Although it’s abnormally cold this time of year, sweat drips down his face and stains the shirt’s armpits.

  Until my headlights swept over the dark shadow of Mauldin Mountain, I was at peace with the decisions that led me here. Josephine’s mom seemed devoted to protecting Lizzy, and I’m about to ensure no other women will have to suffer at his hands again. But something about the combination of rocks and trees on the steep slopes ahead made it hard to breathe. Finding him in a foul mood only adds to my growing trepidation.

  “The first place I stopped didn’t carry your beer,” I lie, handing him the six-pack of cans. As I cross the floor to close the only window, he cracks open one of the cans. “My lord! A polar bear could live in here!”

  A beat of silence passes before he speaks. “I had an interesting conversation with my brother this morning.” His voice drips with cold anger as he rises from the cot. I’m frozen with blinding fear as he shuffles over to where I stand. “He was telling me all about this hot piece of ass he’s been sleeping with…said she lives right down the block from him.”

  Too late to turn back now. “Your brother is nicer than you’ll ever be,” I sneer with a defiant lift of my chin. “He’s never hit me.”

  His body odor assaults my senses when he leans in. “So you aren’t going to deny it’s true?”

  “I know what you’re doing when you’re not with me,” I confess, digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. “I know there are other women. I can smell their perfume.”

  “You caught me red-handed,” he admits with a hard laugh. “What are you going to do about it?”

  My stomach clenches when I blurt, “I saw the Polaroid you took…of a dead woman. She was wearing the exact same lingerie you brought home for me to wear. The night I pretended to be sick…I dug through your suitcase while you were sleeping.”

  “You saw a Polaroid?” he mocks, attempting to match my tone. If he is indeed guilty, I don’t detect the slightest acknowledgment in his body language. He remains as cool as a cucumber even though he’s sweating profusely. “What does that prove?”

  “How many women have you killed?”

  A smile curls the edges of his lips. “Killed?”

  “Where do you go when you tell me you’re on the road? Do you meet them in bars or murder them in their own homes? How do you lure them away? How do you get them to trust you?”

  “You’re talking nonsense. I’ve been good to you, Mary…given you everything you’ve ever wanted. How could you think I would do such a thing? I work hard to provide for you and our daughter.”

  “Lizzy is not your daughter.”

  Darkness spreads across his expression as he stumbles back like he was punched. “Is that so?”

  “I tracked my cycle…she was conceived while you were on one of your ‘trips’.”

  “You’re lying.” Sneering, he stalks back toward me. “You can’t know that for certain.”

  I stand firm on my feet, determined to see this plan through to the end. I won’t back down. Those poor women deserve justice.

  “Tell me the truth about the woman in the Polaroid, and I’ll tell you the truth about her. How many others were there?”

  His eyes darken, revealing the monster buried inside. “You really wanna know?”

  My throat tightens as he stalks nearer.

  “The woman you saw in that Polaroid was number four.”

  “No,” I rasp, giving a slight shake of my head. “That can’t be true.”

  “There have been at least a dozen since,” he claims with a smirk that gives him a fun-house-like appearance. “Honestly, I’ve lost count. It’s become more than a hobby. And you made it so much easier by giving me this place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You gifted me with acres of unlimited possibilities. Most people don’t know how easy it is to cross state lines with a body in the trunk of a car. No more worrying about how I’m going to dispose of their bodies once I’m done.”

  Dread trickles down my spine like acid.

  “You monster!” I shriek.

  He raises a hand to strike me, but I deflect it mid-air by taking a large stride back. “I’m done taking your abuse. I’m leaving you, and I’m going to tell the police everything I know. You’ll never see Lizzy again because you’re going to spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

  “Like hell I am,” he snarls, drawing a large knife into the air between us. “You’re not stepping foot outside this cabin.”

  With my last trembling breath, I spot a set of headlights cutting through the trees.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  PRESENT DAY

  Josephine

  My heartbeat wallops with irregularity as I try to work out who would be aiming a gun at my head, ready to fire. Did someone follow us from Federal Hill? Were they already here, waiting? Red-hot panic slithers through my belly. Where’s Rocco?

  I drop the journal back into the hiding spot beneath the floorboard and slowly lift my hands into the air. “Take it easy. I’m not going to put up a fight.”

  “I knew I should’a torched this place to the ground when I had the chance. I just figured that journal would be good insurance in case he ever decided to turn on me.”

  The southern twang of her voice is too distinctive to belong to anyone else. “Carolyn?”

  “Stand up, darlin’. Nice and slow, now. Wouldn’t want to hurt you after all you’ve been through.”

  “Where’s Rocco?” I ask while doing as I’m told.

  “Your hunk of a man is takin’ a little snooze outside. He’ll be alright. I just needed a minute of your undivided attention.”

  “You have it.” I slowly turn around to face her. In a black velour tracksuit with the hood pulled over her platinum hair, she’s nearly unrecognizable from the woman I met the day before. She could pass for a teenager on the street. The confident way she’s gripping the pistol confirms what I had suspected earlier: her southern daddy probably taught her at an obscenely young age how to properly handle firearms.

  “Why are you doing this, Carolyn?”

  “I’ve spent forty-three goddamn years protectin’ his dirty little secrets,” she confesses, gritting her slightly crooked teeth. “That’s almost the entire length of our marriage! Over four decades of eatin’ shit and actin’ like nothin’ was wrong! You think I’m gonna let you just waltz into town and arrest him after all this time? The life I’ve built isn’t over until I say so!”

  “Bill killed Marianna,” I assert with sickening clarity, pausing to digest the fact. On some level, I might share genetics with a murderer. “There may have been others, too. You don’t have a lot of options at this point. What you’re doing right this very minute is making you an accessory to murder. Do you comprehend what something like that would entail?”

  She inclines her head. “Do you remember what happened that night? The night Marianna was killed?”

  “No, but I don’t remember much of anything that happened before we moved to Iowa,” I admit. “I recognized Eddie, and I’ve had a few smaller flashes back into time. Nothing more.”

  “Good.” Grinning, she braces her left hand beneath her right, taking direct aim at my heart. “That means once I’ve taken care of you and destroyed that godforsaken journal, no one else will know about Bill’s involvement with Marianna. Of course, Diane was there, but she won’t be tellin’ a soul now, will she?”

  I don’t doubt she’s a skilled marksman. The only way out of this is to keep her talking until I catch her at opportune time. “Diane was there that night?”

  “She suspected ol’ Frank was out here with Marianna, came here to confront him. Her daughter and Marianna’s were sleepin’ in the back of her car.”

  “What happened to Josephine?” I practically whisper. “Did Bill murder her, too?”

  She looks away as her chest heaves with a sharp breath. Fat tears simultaneously slip down both cheeks when her gaze returns to mine. “It was an accident.” She slightly lowers the gun when she sniffles. “Josephine was a sweet little thing…didn’t deserve to have that happen. It came down to a matter of bad timin’.”

  I hold her gaze. “Does that mean I’m Lizzy?”

  With a firm nod, she flicks a wrist over her tear-streaked face. “I told Bill you’d figure it out. I don’t know why he insisted on carryin’ on the charade that you’re Josephine.”

  “Why did Diane and Frank take me and raise me as her?”

  “By the time Diane found Josephine, it was too late to save her, and your momma was dead. She figured Bill was dead when she found him unconscious near the girls, so she grabbed you and fled. Diane told Frank she’d promised Marianna that she’d protect you, no matter the cost. They decided it was easier to pretend you were their daughter than explain the circumstances of that night.”

  A lump rises in my throat with the echo of Diane’s last words. “She was protecting me from Bill.”

  “Damn straight. They were afraid he’d kill you, too.” She sniffles again. “Little Josephine may not have had it comin’, but your momma sure as hell did. After Bill knocked her up, she slept through the entire neighborhood—got involved with every married man in Federal Hill.”

  Sickness swells through me. “Bill’s my father?”

  “It sure as hell wasn’t ol’ Frank!”

  “Because he’s infertile.”

  “Diane never told a soul—one of the ladies from church overheard her talkin’ with her doctor at the clinic when she was first pregnant. The identity of Josephine’s real daddy died with Diane. Course it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if Bill had fathered her, too.” Her lips pucker as if she’s eating something sour. “I would’ve left him as soon as I learned he’d gotten Marianna pregnant if it weren’t for the oodles of money Bill had embezzled from that bank in Switzerland.” Now smirking, she throws me a wink. “Keepin’ his little secrets made me a wealthy woman.”

  “By doing so, you’ve made yourself implicit in his crimes. And there’s nothing little about cold-blooded murder.” I point at the journal near my feet. “Have you read the things Marianna alleged he’s done? Did you know about the Polaroid of a dead woman she found buried in his suitcase?”

  Something sparks deep inside her gaze. I suspect it’s guilt tinged with denial.

  “You do know,” I accuse her. “Were there more?”

  She snarls her lip at the journal. “Hand me that. Those pictures, too.”

  I refuse to move. Once I give the items to her, it’ll be game over. It’s best to stall. Maybe Rocco will come around. Please, God, let him be okay.

  “What’re you going to do, Carolyn? Shoot me and leave me here for dead? I told the Baltimore PD everything I know about Bill and Marianna. They’re aware this place exists.” It’s a bluff, but in hindsight I wish I had filled them in. “If you kill me, they’ll find forensic evidence to put you away for the rest of your life. Do you know what they’d do to a pretty little thing like you in prison?”

  “Stop talkin’ like that. They won’t find nothin’ on me.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever worked a crime scene. There’s always hair or fiber to be found. How are you going to explain your presence here?”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re lyin’.”

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” I say, inching closer while her eyes remain closed. “Why did you knock Bill out when you realized I was coming to confront you about what Eddie claimed? If you’re protecting Bill, why did you leave him behind and flee?”

  Her eyelids pop open, revealing enlarged pupils. “You know what? I’m through with this nonsense.” She raises the weapon. “Tell your daddy to rot in hell.”

  Before she can press it to her temple as intended, I spring forward to disarm her. The gun glides across the shack’s floor as I tackle her onto her stomach.

  “Stop!” she screams, kicking and thrashing her head. “Let me go!”

  “Quit fighting me,” I warn. “I’m twenty years younger than you. I can take a beating. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

  “What are you gonna do with me?” she shrieks. “You have no authority in this state!”

  “I may not have the authority to arrest you, Carolyn, but I’m taking you in so someone else can.”

  On the short ride to the nearest police station in a town called Elkton, I make Rocco drive the rental while I ride in the back with Carolyn. He was in tough shape once I’d roused him and will need to see a doctor upon our return to the city. At least his head wasn’t bleeding from the large rock she bashed against his skull. Still, I couldn’t let him be responsible for Carolyn’s detention. He’s in no shape to fight anyone off, even if she is only a buck fifteen soaking wet. At the very least, I’m worried she’ll try to throw herself into traffic.

  She doesn’t deserve a simple ending.

  Without any zip ties or handcuffs available, I’d used the laces from Rocco’s boots to bind her hands behind her back. Her pistol rests between my thigh and the door, easily accessible in case of an emergency. I’ve also activated the recorder on my phone. Although it won’t be admissible in court, it may aid the Baltimore PD during their interrogation of Bill.

  Ever since I practically stuffed Carolyn into the car, she’s been staring out the window with a blank expression.

  “How long have you and Bill known about Marianna’s journal?” I ask.

  Her shrewd eyes dart over to me. “Diane and Frank sent a letter shortly after they’d moved away. Said they’d be keepin’ a close eye on Bill, claimed they possessed hard evidence from Marianna regardin’ the things he’d done. They even told their neighbor woman where to find it in case anything unfortunate happened to them.”

  Rocco’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

  Nonna.

  “Why didn’t they just turn Bill in?”

  “They were using the diary as a kind of in-surance. They threatened to hand it over to the authorities if he dared to come after Elizabeth or hurt another woman.”

  I’m oddly touched by my parents’ actions and almost empathic to Diane’s situation. Despite being bitter and cold-hearted, she was forced to raise the daughter of a woman who may or may not have been her husband’s mistress. I don’t know if I could’ve done something so noble.

  I do know for certain that if I had been in their situation, I wouldn’t have let a murderer walk free. They should’ve turned the journal in when it fell into their possession.

  “Did Bill stop hunting other women?” I ask.

  Carolyn releases the smallest of smirks that doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s almost like she’s sickened by the thought of him. “Matter of fact, he did. Stayed loyal to me after that, too.”