“I went to her funeral,” she said, finally going on. “I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I felt like I needed to go. I came in after it started and sat in the back row. The church was full, but I could still see the family. The mom couldn’t stop crying. She was almost hysterical, and the father and the brother were just… white. I was sick to my stomach and I wanted the whole thing to be over. But it wasn’t.”
She turned toward him. “It… destroyed the family. I mean, all of them were a little strange, but it turned into a catastrophe. A few months after the murder, Cassie’s mom committed suicide, then the father had his medical license suspended. I always thought there was something a little weird about the brother… anyway, that’s when these terrible notes started to arrive. They came to my apartment and the office, in different envelopes, usually just a sentence or two. They were awful… calling me names, demanding to know why I hated Cassie or why I wanted to hurt the family. The police talked to the brother and the notes stopped. For a while, anyway, but when they started arriving again, they were… different. More threatening. Way scarier. So the police talked to him again, and I guess he just… snapped. Denied that he was responsible and insisted that I was out to get him, that the police were in cahoots with me. He ended up in a psychiatric hospital. Meanwhile, the father’s threatening to sue me. The police theorized that Cassie’s boyfriend might be responsible for the notes. Of course, when the police talked to him, he denied sending them, too. That’s when the panic attacks started. I had the sense that whoever was sending those notes would never leave me alone and that’s when I knew I had to go home.”
Colin said nothing. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make her view the events she had just described in a different light.
“I should have listened to the family. And the officer.”
Colin stared out at the waves, their rhythm ceaseless and soothing. When he didn’t respond, she turned toward him.
“Don’t you think?”
He chose his words carefully. “It’s hard to answer that question.”
“What do you mean?”
“By the way you said it, it’s clear that you already think the answer is yes, but if I agree with you, you’ll probably feel worse. If I say no, you’ll dismiss my answer because you’ve already decided that the answer should be yes.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. “I’m not even sure what to say to that,” she offered.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
She sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “I should have lobbied the DA and insisted that we charge Laws with a felony.”
“Maybe. But even if you had – and even if Laws was in prison longer – the outcome might still have been the same. He was fixated on her. And if you’re curious, if I’d been in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing.”
“I know, but…”
“Have you talked to anyone about this?”
“Like a therapist? No.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“You’re not going to tell me that I should?”
“I don’t give advice,” he said.
“Ever?”
He shook his head. “Then again, you don’t need my advice. If you think therapy might help you, try it out. If you don’t think so, don’t. I can only say that in my own experience, it’s been beneficial.”
Maria was quiet, and he couldn’t tell whether she liked his answer. “Thanks,” she finally said.
“For what?”
“For listening,” she said. “And not trying to give advice.”
Colin nodded, studying the horizon. More stars were evident now, and Venus glowed in the southern sky, bright and constant. A handful of people had wandered to the beach, their laughter carrying into the night air. Sitting beside Maria, it seemed like he’d known her far longer than the hour or so they’d spent together. He felt a distinct stab of regret that the evening was about to end.
But he could sense it coming in the way she suddenly sat straighter. He watched as she drew a long breath before finally glancing toward the boardwalk.
“I should probably get going,” she said.