“You were right. I’m tired of hating. I’m tired of hurting.”
“I know. You helped me let go.” The sound of the front door crashing open; the thunder of footfalls. Miranda held out her free hand. “You saved me. Now, please, let me save you.”
“I think you already have. Thank you, Randi.”
As a half dozen officers stormed the room, Summer turned the gun on herself and fired.
EPILOGUE
One night in June
Spring became summer. In the weeks and months that had passed since that night at Ian Stark’s, the wheels of justice had turned. Once Summer’s story became public, women who had been victimized by Richard Stark had begun to come forward. A lot of women. Some—like Jessie Lund—students who had put their trust in the university and a man they looked up to as a mentor; others—like Paula Gleason—who had been fooled by appearances but decided to cut their losses for fear of being stigmatized; and still others—like Miranda and Summer—who had simply been young, foolish, and in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Miranda had spent many a night crying for them—and for the friend she had lost. Through it all, she’d had Jake to hold onto and her brother to lean on. And Summer’s final words—that Miranda had saved her—to cherish.
Miranda stepped out into the hot, still night. The screen door slapped shut behind her. Muggy and as close as a tick on a retriever, she thought, lifting her hair off her neck, hoping to catch a stirring of breeze.
It turned out Summer wasn’t the only victim Ian Stark had paid off for her silence. And not the only one Buddy had used his position to intimidate. Miranda had gone straight to the Sheriff’s Department with the signed confessions. Buddy had resigned and Ian Stark had been stripped of his position. Both would be going to jail, although Buddy, as a public servant, sworn to uphold the law, would serve a much bigger sentence than Stark. Ironic, considering—as Summer said—that Stark fed the monster he could have stopped at any time.
She turned her gaze to the U-Haul trailer parked in her drive, ready to be packed in the morning. She’d always promised herself she would leave this place and head to the west coast, start a new life there.
Then why did fulfilling that promise feel so wrong?
“Couldn’t sleep?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Jake, wearing nothing but gym shorts, his hair mussed from sleep. “Nope.”
He came up behind her and drew her back against his chest, arms encircling her. As the officer with the most seniority on the force, he’d been offered the position of temporary chief of the HPD. He’d accepted but with no promise of running for the permanent gig.
It depended on her, he’d said. On whether she had room for him in her life out in California.
“You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Maybe give it another try?”
A lump formed in her throat, a realization with it. The reason she hadn’t been able to sleep for nights running, the reason she’d felt more dread than excitement about this day coming. She pictured Robby and his wife waving good-bye the night before, remembered little Chrissy’s arms around her neck, and her mother’s tears.
Miranda turned in his arms and met his eyes. “I’m not going.”
“To bed?”
“Tomorrow. To California. I’m returning the trailer first thing in the morning.”
He searched her gaze. “It kills me to say it, but I’m not going to let you stay. I don’t want you to always look back and wonder what could have been. It’s your dream, Miranda.”
“Was my dream,” she corrected. “It’s not anymore.”
“Don’t do this because of us.”
“I’m not.” A smile touched her mouth. “I just realized … I always wanted to leave this place because I wanted to change me. Start fresh, be someone else. But I’ve done that, Jake. I moved on without running away.”
She thought of Robby, of how she was enjoying getting to know him and his family. Of her mother’s continued path back to health, both emotional and physical—and how rewarding it had been to be by her side, helping her.
“You’re sure?”
“I am.”
“You quit your job.”
“I did.”
“I’m pretty tight with the chief. I could see about having you reinstated.”
“I have another idea.” She looked up at him. “I was thinking about turning the Toasted Cat into a coffeehouse. Serve a little food and wine, too. I’d call it Summer’s Place.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “She would’ve liked that.”
Miranda pictured her friend, not as she’d been that last night, but on that first night, smiling back at Miranda, excited to be alive and about the future.
Excited about the future. The way Miranda felt right now. “I think so, too. I think she’d like it a lot.”
Miranda caught Jake’s hand, laced their fingers. “How about we go back to bed? I’ve got a big day tomorrow.”