Killing once in a blue moon satisfied his urges. But it was never enough. Before long, he was hungry again, yet his mother held him at bay. Her needs, the burden of caring for her in the beginning, was enough to keep him occupied, though he still thought of the girls.
Then, she was admitted to the nursing home and gradually deteriorated. Still, she kept him busy, insisting he visit every day. This left him no time for his girls.
When his mother finally passed, Lester sought solace in the arms of Ceeli, who was eager to give it to him—when Mack was out of town.
The hunger ate away at him. And when he killed, he tasted the lust in his mouth, and he killed again. It was easier. When his mother died, he realized he could finally do as he wanted. He could become the man he’d always wanted to be—the mask had always hidden his true self. He knew that soon he wouldn’t need it.
The darkness grows, yawning wide to swallow him whole. Ida lets go, watches him fall, screaming, consumed by the black until there is nothing of him left but the echo of his voice.
A tether snaps, a filament to which Ida was connected with the monster. She is pulled back out of the darkness as surely as he falls toward it.
To the dark ether. Silent and cold. Endless.
Now his scream has faded and there is no sound, nothing but the light growing around her as she surfaces.
Ida remembers telling Harper that death was warm sunlight from that other place . . . brighter and brighter until there’s nothing else.
But, as she wakes on the floor of the house, Harper asking if she is alright, the smell of gunpowder, death, and sweat filling her nose, the sound of approaching sirens in her ears, the sound of her heart . . . she knows she was wrong. The warm light that pulled her back from oblivion was not death.
It was life.
EPILOGUE
Captain Morelli surveys the scene, John Dudley at his side, coordinating the officers who have arrived to prevent anyone going anywhere near vital evidence.
Morelli looks at where Stu lies in a puddle of his own blood, and he cannot help but feel his heart sink. “Shit.”
“He was a good man, sir,” Dudley offers.
Morelli glares at him. “I don’t think you’ve got a right to pass comment, son, after what you pulled.”
Dudley looks at his shoes. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Look at me.”
Dudley does as he’s told.
“I hear Durham has a spot open. I think you’re gonna take it. It’d be best all round, don’t you think?”
“I—”
Morelli points at Stu. A crime-scene photographer is snapping away, trying to catch the detective from all angles. “That is the price you pay for causing what you did. Be thankful that’s all that’s happening to you.”
The color drains from Dudley’s face and he walks outside. Morelli treads carefully around the blood and mess on the floor and hunkers down next to Stu.
“I’m sorry, Detective,” he mumbles.
“Harper!” a familiar voice says. She feels someone take her hand, looks down, and sees Albie at the side of the gurney. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Albie.”
“I’m so sorry about Stu,” he says. His eyes are rimmed with red, glassy with tears. “I can’t believe it.”
The paramedics wheel Harper’s gurney into the back of the ambulance, jostling her slightly in the process.
“Talk soon,” Harper calls to him.
Albie blows her a kiss. Ida elects to travel with her, sitting next to the gurney. The paramedics shut the doors, and the ambulance heads for the hospital, siren wailing.
“You okay, sugar?”
Harper looks at her. “I guess. I can’t stop thinking of Stu, though.”
“I know,” Ida says, taking her hand and squeezing it. “But it’ll all make sense tomorrow. And it’ll get easier. That hurt you’re feelin’ right now? You’ll get used to it. I did.”
“Thank you. Through this whole thing, you’ve been great.”
Ida smiles. There are tears in her eyes. “Don’t mention it. Had to be done.”
“Hey,” Harper says in a hushed voice. “What did you see? When you made the connection with him.”
Ida considers telling her, but rethinks it. “Let me tell you in a couple of days, when you’re on the mend . . .”
“No, really. I need to know, Ida. What did you see at the end? When he was dying?”
Ida’s gaze burns into her as she speaks. “The darkness smothered him like a blanket. I guess he was only darkness all along anyway. That’s what he became in the end.”
“You saw it?”
Ida nods slowly. “Saw him sink into the black, saw it take him and make him disappear. For people like that, I like to think death is a dark corridor . . . and there ain’t no light at the end of it for ’em. Only silence.”
The breath seems to catch in Harper’s throat and she starts to sob. “And Stu?”
“No, no, no!” Ida smiles, patting her hand. “Trust me, sugar, that boy is surrounded by sunlight. He did good. And maybe I shouldn’t tell you this . . .”
Harper frowns. “Tell me what?”
Ida lets go of her hand and reaches over, resting her open palm where Harper’s stomach is. “Tell you about the part of him that grows inside you.”
Realization dawns on Harper’s face.
Ida nods. “You know what I mean.”
Harper shakes her head. “I don’t believe it . . .”
“Well,” Ida says, sitting back and folding her arms. “You better start.”
Harper doesn’t say anything for a long time. The ambulance bounces on the rough backstreets of Hope’s Peak. After the silence has stretched out, and what Ida has told her has sunk in, Harper speaks up. “What will you do now?”
Ida smiles. Her eyes shine. “Sugar, I’m gonna do what I should’ve done a long time ago. Start living.”