“As far as you know,” Rocco amends.

  Carolyn purses her lips and returns her gaze to the window.

  I can’t shake the feeling that she’s still omitting something important from her confession. Was she more involved in Marianna’s death than she’s willing to admit?

  I stop the recording on my phone and blurt, “I killed Diane.”

  The tires on the rental screech as Rocco turns sharply around a corner. His gaze flickers to mine in the mirror, filled with endless questions. I give him a reassuring nod.

  “You can’t be serious,” Carolyn says with an eye-roll.

  I hold Rocco’s stare as I continue my confession. “The morning she died…I ran outside to grab a scrunchie from my SUV. I was upset after crying all night and sat in the driver’s seat, contemplating whether or not to hightail it back to school and never come back. Diane caught me in that vulnerable moment, said she was prepared to make my life a living hell if I didn’t break up with the boy next door. She said I was embarrassing her and my father, and it wasn’t right because he was so much older. I was confused when she told me that. I mean, we were only two years apart. Now that I know the truth, I know it’s because, in reality, I was two years younger than what they’d brainwashed me to believe.”

  Rocco’s complexion pales.

  “But neither of us knew the truth then, so it didn’t matter.” I do my best to assure him everything’s okay with a heartfelt smile. “I told her we were in love and planned to spend the rest of our lives together.” I blink away the sting of building tears. “Wanna know what she told me in response to that?”

  “What?” Rocco whispers, his eyes bright with pending tears.

  “She said I was incapable of loving one man.”

  “She was comparin’ you to your momma,” Carolyn summarizes in a righteous lit.

  “Of course, I didn’t understand what she meant back then,” I dismiss with a frail laugh, finally tearing my gaze away from Rocco’s. “I was just furious that she would say something so cruel. After she left, I stewed for a while before I decided it was time to drag myself back inside. On the way out, my sweater caught on the gear stick. I felt it shift into neutral, but I was too worked up to give a damn. I remember thinking I hoped it would smash into the garage and wreck my parents’ stupid house.”

  Carolyn lets out a cooing noise. “Ah, hun. Sounds like it was an accident. No need to beat yourself up over it.”

  “The police agreed it was an accident. Their investigation concluded a faulty gear stick on my SUV was to blame.” I turn to face Carolyn with an eyebrow raised, hoping like hell I’m getting the message across because it’s painful to pick at a wound that has taken decades to heal. “But I’ve always blamed myself for what happened. If I had given a damn…if I hadn’t hated Diane so much…maybe she would still be alive.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Just something for you to think about. I imagine you’ll have all the time in the world to reflect on your past and things you wish you would’ve done differently.”

  As we pull into the PD’s parking lot, Rocco swipes an arm over his eyes. I do, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  BEFORE

  Diane

  The shack was easy enough to find. Marianna had explained its location well. The forest is dark and desolate, far enough from civilization that it would be a waste of time to cry for help.

  I turn to find the girls still fast asleep in the backseat. They had passed out the minute we left the city limits. Elizabeth’s head rests on Josephine’s shoulder as she snores softly. They’re wearing the matching pajamas Marianna made them for Josephine’s birthday. Upon my daughter’s insistence, I had braided their hair the same. They’re so adorable, so pure, that I feel the weight of my decision to bring them along. It was a mistake. Hopefully it’s not one I’ll regret anytime soon.

  But after Marianna had mentioned the damn shack in Elk Neck, I paged through the diary tucked inside Elizabeth’s overnight bag. I had to see what’s happening out here with my own eyes.

  I have to know if Frank was the man Marianna had come here to meet.

  As far as I know, my husband has never been unfaithful. But like the man in the diary, he’s always on the road, selling encyclopedias. And he’s been absent every weekend this summer, claiming to attend classes at an upstate university.

  If the rumors about Marianna are to be believed, she has slept with every man in the neighborhood—including Frank.

  It’s time I confirm whether or not the rumors are true.

  Soundlessly opening and closing the driver’s door, I tiptoe the remaining distance between the car and the shack and gaze into the building’s sole window.

  There’s a woman on the floor, unmoving. I’m unable to see anything beyond a pool of blood and the woman’s feet peeking out from a long wool skirt.

  It’s the same tan skirt Marianna was wearing when she left her daughter in my care.

  I try to stifle my scream, but it’s too late.

  The door to the shack springs open, slamming against the side of the building.

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a minute, certain I’m hallucinating.

  “Bill?”

  There’s something primal in his gaze when my brother-in-law closes the distance between us. It’s the purest form of evil I’ve ever witnessed.

  I drag my gaze down to the object in his hand.

  A bloodied knife.

  Bill’s dark gaze slides to something behind me. “What are they doing here? Why did you bring them?”

  I turn to find Elizabeth huddled against my daughter in the doorway. At first, I assume they’re hugging until I realize Josephine’s eyes are fixed on the sight she’s afforded through the open doorway. She’s protecting her friend from the sight of her dead mother inside.

  “Run, girls!” I cry to them. “Don’t stop until you find help!”

  Josephine’s terror-filled eyes meet mine for a fleeting second before they sprint away.

  Something sharp pierces my side. I cry out, crumpling to the shack’s dirt floor with a blinding surge of pain. Then Bill’s heavy footsteps fall in the same direction as the girls had gone.

  “No,” I pant, attempting to stand. A violent bout of nausea sends me down on my knees. “No,” I wheeze before trying to rise once again.

  I won’t let that bastard hurt the girls.

  I limp after them at a painstakingly slow rate, gripping my wound and wincing with every step. Although I lose track of them a time or two, I’m able to veer in the same direction as Bill’s angry tirade.

  “Come back here, girls!”

  “I’m not going to hurt you!”

  “Lizzy, do not disobey your father!”

  I stumble with his last rant, barely bracing myself against a tree in time to prevent another fall. Bill is Elizabeth’s father? Does Frank know? What about Carolyn? Does she suspect her husband has been having an affair? Is that why she spent so much time becoming involved in charities? How could she not know? They only live a handful of blocks down from Marianna.

  With every bit of progress I make in their direction, my vision becomes mangled with black spots, and I become more light-headed. There’s so much blood seeping from the wound that I know I won’t be able to continue on for much longer. I’m close to losing consciousness.

  A girl’s scream pierces the air, followed by a man and woman shouting.

  “No,” I gasp as I collapse to the ground and close my eyes. “Not my baby girl…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PRESENT DAY

  Josephine

  On the other side of a two-way mirror, I watch Carolyn confess to knowing her husband’s secrets. “He did it!” she cries, crushing a hankie in her hand. “Bill killed Marianna and Josephine, poor things! After all these years of hidin’, it’s a relief to say those words aloud! He threatened to kill me, too, if I came to the police! If it hadn’t been for Lizzy bringin’ me to my senses, I wouldn’t have the freedom to tell you everything I know!”

  Detective Frommie, a willowy man in his mid-30s with a fat Tom Selleck mustache, leans over the interrogation table, relentlessly scowling. “What about the other women mentioned in Marianna Haley’s diary? What do you know about them?”

  Carolyn’s fists pound at the table. “Nothing, I swear!”

  His partner, Detective Carmichael, a petite woman with white-blond hair secured in a tight bun, sets her hand on top of Carolyn’s. “I know this must be hard for you,” she says in a warm, soothing voice. “But if you know anything about the other women that could enlighten us and steer us in the right direction, it would be extremely helpful. Names, locations of where he met them. Miss Haley claimed he took Polaroids of his victims. Have you ever come across any?”

  Resting her forehead on the table, Carolyn sobs, “I’m so sorry!”

  Captain Ruiz, the woman in charge of the detectives, switches off the speaker when Carolyn only continues to wail. Ruiz is stunning with an enviable bone structure, glowing brown skin, flawless black hair, and piercing eyes. Even without the 3-inch heels she’s wearing, she’d still tower over my 5’9” frame. She omits an authoritative presence I’m able to appreciate.

  “That’s quite enough of that,” she tells me in a sardonic tone. "I already sent two of my detectives to the hospital to take Bill Kelly into custody. They handcuffed him to the bed until the doctor finishes running a few more tests. I guess they’re debating whether or not hip surgery is necessary.”

  Whatever causes him the most amount of pain, I think with a scowl.

  I shake my head, frustrated. “Carolyn’s still hiding something. She was ready to take herself out of the equation when I pushed her to explain why she left Bill behind. I think she’s lying about what went down that night in the forest. I suspect she knows about the Polaroids, too.”

  “She’s probably overwhelmed by shame,” Captain Ruiz concludes. “All those years of living with a sociopath must’ve messed with her head.” She crosses her arms and gives me a sly smile. “You did an excellent job here, Detective Kelly. If that diary is accurate, you’ve apprehended a serial killer with a higher victim count than Dahmer.” She raises a lone, meticulously-shaped brow. “I don’t suppose I can talk you into moving to Baltimore and working for me?”

  “That serial killer may very well be my biological father,” I remind her with a sharp look. “No offense, but I hope to never set foot in this city again.”

  “I guess I can understand that. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from my department again in the near future—especially if they’re able to uncover your birth mother’s remains.” She relaxes her shoulders with a sharp sigh. “Even once the FBI becomes involved, it’ll be an arduous process of identifying whatever bodies we may or may not find buried on that property in Elk Neck.” She offers her hand, and I shake it. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation, Captain Ruiz.”

  Her grip on my hand tightens before she releases it. “Wait, I almost forgot! You left your rental at the hospital and rode here in a squad car. Can one of my detectives give you a ride back?”

  Remembering how I’d nearly cried when I was forced to leave Rocco behind for the doctors to examine, I dip my chin and smile. “That’d be great.”

  The detective drops me in the hospital parking lot. Rocco texts me, saying he’s waiting in our rental car. I imagine he was eager to be released once they cleared him in the ER. Knowing him, he’d be embarrassed if his girlfriend saw him in a hospital gown.

  My cheeks glow with warmth when I realize I consider myself his girlfriend. How’s that going to work once I return to Chaska? He can’t move away from Nonna. Would I be willing to leave the department in pursuit of something else? Could I return to Ames permanently, despite the decade of bitter memories that linger there? I briefly close my eyes and exhale. One step at a time.

  I slip into the driver’s seat beside Rocco and immediately lace my fingers through his. He ruffles his hair with his other hand and gives me a sheepish grin. Without any bandages, he would appear unscathed to a stranger. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Sore. The doc thinks I might be concussed. She said I’m clear to fly home, but I should take it easy for a day or two once we return.” He gingerly leans the side of his head back against the passenger’s seat. “It’s mostly my ego that hurts. I can’t believe I got knocked out by a senior citizen.”

  I bite down on a grin. “In your defense, she used a pretty big rock.”

  His fingers brush over mine. “I heard they arrested Bill for Marianna’s murder.”

  “How?”

  “There was a big commotion when the officers came. They’d stuck me in a hallway because the ER was so crowded, and I ended up right outside his room. I heard them read Bill his rights.”

  I glare at the monstrous brick building looming ahead. “A part of me wants to track him down in there and give him a piece of my mind.”

  His fingers tighten around mine. “What about the other parts?”

  “I’m too exhausted to give a shit, Roc. Even if he truly is my birth father, he’ll never mean anything more to me than a faceless sperm donor would.” I reach for the steering wheel. “Let’s pack our things and book the first flight back to Des Moines. I cannot wait to leave this city behind.”

  “You’ve always been one tough cookie.” He lifts our combined hands to his mouth and brushes his lips over my knuckles. His expression intensifies. “That stuff you told Carolyn about the day Diane died—was that all true?”

  “Every word,” I ruefully admit.

  “I hope you know by now what she said about you being incapable of loving one man was a load of shit. Especially when she never made an effort to know you the way I do.” His Adam’s apple skips over a lump before he continues. “When’s the last time someone told you they loved you?”

  Tears sting the back of my eyes. I quickly blink them away. “I have a few really good friends who tell me that every time we get together or speak on the phone.”

  He reaches out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger against my jaw. “I love you, Jo. I never stopped. You were always it for me.” He leans his forehead against mine. “You can do whatever you want with that information, but I’m tired of holding back.”

  Although I’m closer to returning the sentiment than he probably realizes, I simply lean into him and accept the kiss he offers.

  Two days later, I’m pleasantly surprised when I step into Noelle’s office in downtown Ames. Her bedroom as a teenager had been grossly chaotic. Several decades later, her professional space is neat and orderly, with a rustic bookshelf and modern streamlined furniture in soothing shades of tan and gray.

  “Josephine!” she squeals, jutting from behind a glass desk to meet me in a steel-tight embrace. “My God, I’ve missed you!”

  Laughing, I squeeze her back. “I’ve missed you, too. I just wish I was here under different circumstances.”

  Her chunky bracelets clang against her wrists when she releases me and draws back. I may not have recognized the stunning woman standing before me if I hadn’t seen her hyphenated name on the door. Long, straight hair still as dark as a raven and skin as smooth as a 30-year-old’s, no one would ever guess we graduated high school together. And, as I’ve recently learned, I’m biologically two years younger. After her third child, her hips remained slightly thick, and her breasts increased by two sizes—so she informed me one night years ago during a video call. She wears a black pencil skirt and a white turtle-neck sweater with tall boots with the ease of a seasoned supermodel.

  “I’m glad Roc pressured you into coming,” she admits. “You’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Her smile drops. “I’d tell you I’m sorry to hear about your dad’s passing, but I won’t waste my condolences.”

  I nod in gratitude. The day after Bill’s arrest, I received a call from the nursing home. Frank had passed peacefully in his sleep. I felt nothing aside from immense relief. I won’t have to endure another painful conversation with Frank ever again or pretend my childhood was normal.

  She points a manicured finger at the chair facing her desk. “Have a seat.”

  Laughing nervously, I gesture to the leather couch in the corner. “Don’t you want me to lay down on that?”

  “Only if I truly believed it’d make you more comfortable.” Snorting, she rolls her eyes. “I know you too well. You don’t like feeling vulnerable.”

  “That’s fair,” I say, easing down into the chair facing her.

  “Have you ever had any experience with hypnotherapy?” Noelle asks, her magnetic blue eyes skipping between mine. “There’s no scientific evidence that it works, but it’s yielded favorable results with a few patients in the past. It helped one survivor restructure their actual memories of abuse as a little girl.” She folds her hands and sets them on the desk between us. “I can’t guarantee whatever you come up with will be reliable, but it might jar something loose in that hard noggin of yours.”

  “If you truly believe it’ll help…” I run my teeth over my bottom lip. “You’re not going to ask me anything inappropriate while I’m under, are you? I completely trust you in your professional capacity, but you did want me to tell you the details of what it was like to sleep with Rocco again.”

  “Nah. I’ll save those questions for after we’ve had a few margaritas.” She waves me away. “Now I need to you to lay on the couch. Relax as much as humanly possible.”

  Huffing, I follow her to the corner and spread out along the couch. Closing my eyes, I envision myself melting into the couch.

  “I want you to pay attention to my voice,” Noelle instructs me in a smooth, calming tone. “Niiiiiice and easy, Jo. I want you to go back into that forest in Maryland with me. Try to remember the sights, sounds, smells, thoughts, and feelings you experienced that night. There’s nothing to be afraid of…we’re in this together. We’re in that forest alongside your friend. It’s the night your birth mother was murdered.”