Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“It has seemed like you’ve been avoiding us.” Holden nodded.
“Or that you’re mad.” Leave it to Monroe to get right to the point.
Holden cocked his head, studying me in that way only professors seemed to have, and I resisted the urge to squirm. “Are you upset about the podcast?”
“It’s not the podcast.” Monroe shook his head sadly. “It’s my book.”
Holden quirked his lips as he shook his head. “Nah. The podcast is the reason that true-crime addict showed up. And I can’t guarantee she’ll be the last.”
“You guys. Still trying to one-up each other.” I groaned because we’d be here all afternoon if I let them try to answer for me. “It’s neither of those things. I’m not mad anymore, and certainly not at you. I kept my distance because of me, not you.”
“Not sure I buy that.” Holden leaned back in his wheelchair. “She was your mother, and perhaps we didn’t give that enough weight. Treated you more like evidence and less like a friend.”
“When Knox and I saw you in San Francisco, I should have realized you were in crisis. I could have done more. I didn’t need to be so focused on the case.” Monroe sounded rather resigned.
“That focus is what led to the big breakthrough,” I pointed out. “And neither of you were bad friends. You came for me when I was hurting. You called. You texted. You tried. You kept reaching for me, even when I couldn’t reach back.”
“That was Cal’s advice.” Holden smiled fondly. I’d need to remember to thank Cal again the next time I saw him.
“You were all good friends, Knox and Cal included. I…” I started to say I didn’t deserve their loyalty, but an image of Stern Sam glaring at me made me pause and reframe. I’d been hurting. Hurt people deserved kindness, even me. “I was in a bad place.”
“We know. And we don’t blame you for it.” Holden reached across the table to offer a quick pat on my hand.
“And if you were mad, it would be understandable,” Monroe added, tone still measured as if he were on edge about saying the wrong thing. “We called attention to a lot of stuff you probably didn’t want aired publicly.”
“Thanks to you, the case got solved.” I had to breathe between words in order to say what I needed to. “Thanks to you, she’s…home. In Safe Harbor. Where she belongs. Which isn’t to say I don’t miss her…”
That did it. Unleash the waterworks. The heat rose in my face until my eyes burned and overflowed, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“Worth.”
“Buddy.”
“We’re here for you.” Speaking at the same time, Holden and Monroe both reached for my hand, enveloping me in a firm, steadying grip. “Always and no matter what.”
“And if you don’t want me to write the book, I’ll tear up the contract.” Monroe’s voice wavered, almost as much emotion there as my own voice had held. “There will be other opportunities to examine cases that aren’t close friends. Your friendship means more to me than a book deal.”
“Or a podcast. I can stop talking about the case entirely,” Holden was quick to add.
“A few weeks ago, I would have taken you up on that.” I swallowed hard. Honesty hurt, but lying would be worse. “I would have said to hide all my family’s dirty laundry. I wanted to pretend none of it actually happened. And I definitely didn’t want to have to confront the reality of what did happen. The words that come so easily to both of you, I struggle with. Murder. Victim. It still doesn’t seem quite real.”
“I get that.” Monroe nodded. “And the offer still stands.”
“But now, I want you to tell the story.”
“You do?”
“But I want to help.” At the cemetery, sitting with my parents’ graves, I’d finally come to terms with the complexities of their story and the public curiosity about the case. The answer wasn’t to hide away but rather to control the narrative. “I’m not a writer, not even close. I’m a numbers guy. I couldn’t do the story justice. And it’s a story that needs telling.”
“You think so?” Monroe leaned closer, peering deep into my eyes.
“I think it’s complicated. Like life. And that’s the tale I want you to tell.” I closed my eyes as the words started tumbling out, one after another. “Tell about the woman who loved dancing and who married too young, yet she did her level best to be an amazing mom. Tell about that. Prove she was more than simply a victim duped by a calculating criminal preying on her unhappiness.” My voice took on an emphatic edge. “She was a good mom. And I think she did love my dad, and he loved her. Complicated. Not an easy fit, but not the worst either. Tell about how he grieved, how much the blame hurt him.”