But what was the right thing?
The snow fell around her. Flakes clung to her coat, reminding her of the ashes that fell when she had stood beside Janis, watching the time-share burn. I’m free, Gertrude’s daughter had said, her wrists in handcuffs. And so is Mom.
Aubrey thought about her father in his wheelchair, already mummified and so paralyzed by guilt and shame he was unable to do what he needed to. She thought about her mother, reaching for her with bandaged hands. Mama didn’t have the strength to take action, either. She had already been burned once too often trying to help her husband.
The answer came to Aubrey with a gust of glistening flakes. Her parents wanted her to free them. They needed her to free them.
She reached into her pocket for her phone.
“Smolleck,” he said. His voice was strong and emboldening, but she didn’t need his reassurance. She had made her decision.
“Tom. It’s Aubrey.”
A memory brushed her consciousness. A smiling blue-eyed man lifting her high in the air. How’s my beautiful princess?
She blinked back tears and took a deep breath. “There’s something I must tell you about my father.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Whew. Finished the book. I never could have done it without an amazing support system.
My tough-but-always perspicacious critique group: Christine Jackson, Miriam Auerbach, Neil Plakcy, and Kristy Montee. An especially hearty thanks to Neil and Kristy for their in-depth, critical reading of the manuscript and their often-brilliant suggestions.
My technical support crew: Julie Hecht DeMay and David Hecht, for their patience and useful input on psychology in academia. Jack and Marilyn Turken, for their medical expertise. Detective John Perez, Miami-Dade County Special Victims Bureau, Missing Persons Unit, who graciously took time out of his busy day to help me understand police procedures.
My first-readers and cheerleaders: Arnold Weiss, Koula Papadopoulos, and, as always, Delia Foley, who did double duty as my tour guide around her native Coconut Grove, with a memorable lunch stop at Scotty’s Landing.
My enthusiastic champion, Christine Kling, who guided me to the perfect home for Someone Must Die.
My very own visionaries, whose diligence and creativity helped me realize the potential of my manuscript: Mallory Braus, my discerning developmental editor, and my fantastic T&M team, led by the ever-supportive JoVon Sotak.
And finally, my much-cherished family:
Sarah, for her always sharp insights, this time into a twenty-eight-year-old woman’s thinking and perceptions.
Ben, for taking me on a tour of South Beach, with a visit to the Holocaust Memorial and a stroll down Meridian Avenue (including sneaking into a building that looked like a perfect venue for my story).
Joe, for always being there to read, reread, and read yet again. And . . . for always being there.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sharon Potts is the award-winning, critically acclaimed author of four psychological thrillers, including In Their Blood—winner of the Benjamin Franklin Award and recipient of a starred review in Publishers Weekly. A former CPA, corporate executive, and entrepreneur, Sharon has served as treasurer of the national board of Mystery Writers of America, as well as president of that organization’s Florida chapter. She has also co-chaired SleuthFest, a national writers’ conference. Sharon lives in Miami Beach with her husband and a spirited Australian shepherd named Gidget.