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NINA When I greet Cecelia at her camp, it’s the happiest I’ve seen her
He nods. “Her name is Kathleen Connors. Actually, small world—she and your husband were engaged a long time ago.” I blink at him. Kathleen. The fiancée who Andy broke up with before the two of us got together. The one I tried to find so many times, but kept coming up empty-handed. Kathleen is this man’s daughter. But what does that mean? He lowers his voice several notches until I have to strain to hear. “The breakup was rough on her. She wouldn’t talk about it. Still won’t. She moved far away after that and she even changed her name. She hasn’t been out on a date with a man since.” My heart
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had been locking you up in the attic, but nobody could verify your story was real. Although truthfully, it looks like nobody did very much to try. The Winchesters used to have a lot of pull out here before they moved down to Florida, especially with some of the cops.” He pauses. “But not me.”
“If you ask me,” he says, “that attic is a hazard. Seems like it’s far too easy to get locked up there.” He leans back again, his voice returning to a normal volume. “It’s a shame that happened to your husband. I’m sure my buddy in the coroner’s office will also agree. It’ll have to be a cautionary tale, won’t it?” “Yes,” I finally manage. “A cautionary tale.” Detective Connors gives me one last long look. And then he goes back upstairs to join his colleagues. And I realize something incredible. I’m not going to walk out of here in handcuffs after all.
Detective Connors made good on all his promises. Andy’s death was ruled an accident, and neither I nor Millie was ever investigated. The story was that Andy accidentally got locked in the attic while I was away and died from dehydration. None of that explains the bruises and the missing teeth though. Detective Connors had friends in the coroner’s office, but the Winchesters are one of the most powerful and influential families in the state. Do they know? Do they have any idea I’m responsible for his death?
son’s face, at his long eyelashes, closed forever. She purses her lips. “I always told him,” she says, “how important dental hygiene is. I told him he had to brush every night, and when he didn’t, there would be a punishment. There’s always a punishment when you break the rules.”
“Evelyn…” “If you don’t take care of your teeth,” she continues, “then you lose the privilege to have teeth.” “Evelyn?” “Andy knew that. He knew that was my rule.” She lifts her eyes. “When I pulled out one of his baby teeth with pliers, I thought he understood.”
breath away: “It’s such a shame,” she says, “that he never really learned. I’m glad you stepped up and taught him a lesson.” My jaw is hanging open as Evelyn makes one last adjustment to her son’s white shirt collar. Then she walks out of the funeral home, leaving me behind.
