Crash & Burn (Tessa Leoni, #3)(118)

“Only because you thought it would make me happy. After all, I spent most of my time in her company. And God knows my other aliases hadn’t worked out. You’d already tried love and acceptance. Twenty-two years later, I can understand you going with a more radical approach.”

“I didn’t know Marlene had sold Vero,” he tells me urgently, squeezing my hand. “Your reaction to the quilt, followed by your need to track down Vero’s mom . . . I thought you needed her, that maybe, somehow, her love might finally make you whole. Given you knew so much about Vero’s life and were so mentally muddled from the first two falls . . . I figured if the police identified you as Vero, confused or not, you’d accept her name. And maybe, just maybe, you’d find some peace.”

“Except the police didn’t just ID me as Vero; they pursued you as the primary suspect in the car crash, leading to you burning down our house in order to cover your tracks.”

“I didn’t want to leave you. But in the end, it seemed the only way to keep you safe.”

“I can’t be Vero,” I tell him quietly. “I can only be me. But I understand what you did and why. And I understand why you took me back to the house that night, because if I couldn’t be Vero, then I had to find a way to face what had happened once and for all. That’s why you brought the shovel, right? You were going to take me to her body. You were going to dig her up, and then together, we’d finally do what we should’ve done twenty-two years ago. Bring her to the police. Get justice for Vero.”

“I remember, too, Nicky. That night . . . I remember it always.”

My turn to squeeze his hand.

After another moment, Thomas not looking at me, Thomas speaking quickly: “I still think you should go. I’m sole heir to that stupid house. Family property, meaning all these years later, the land, burned ruins, all belong to me. At least the state already cremated my mother’s remains; otherwise, I’d have to deal with that, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Thomas: “It’s a f*cking legal nightmare. Could take me years to sort out. Nicky . . .”

“I like that name. I think I’m going to keep it. Nicky Frank. It’s a strong name. Fitting for a woman twice returned from the dead.”

“Is that the concussion talking again?”

“Maybe. So will you be Thomas Frank? Will you be my husband?”

Thomas not saying anything at all.

Me: “You’re not answering.”

Thomas: . . .

Me: “Are you crying?”

Thomas: “For God’s sake, lean closer so I can kiss you.”

Thomas is going to remain my husband. We will live here, and maybe it won’t be happily ever after. I still have nightmares. And headaches and problems focusing and good days and bad days, not to mention years of physical and mental recovery before me.

But we all bear our scars. That’s what makes us survivors.

Now Wyatt tells me that using DNA testing, the skeletal remains recovered from the woods have been positively ID’d as Veronica Sellers.

Furthermore, Marlene’s family has already claimed the body. They plan to bury Vero next to Marlene. Mother and daughter together again.

Even knowing what I know, I can’t argue with that.

Home; that’s what Vero wanted. What all of us wanted. To go home again.

Tessa tells me she and Wyatt are getting a puppy. She seems more relaxed than the last time I saw her. I catch her and Wyatt smiling at each other several times. When they leave, he takes her hand and she lets him.

I think they’re a cute couple. I’m glad they sit closer, knees touching. I can’t wait to meet this puppy.

And now . . .

Thomas is resting in the back bedroom. He won’t need me for a bit.

So I get out the quilt. I get comfortable on the sofa.

I close my eyes . . . and Vero and I share a cup of tea.





Author’s Note and Acknowledgments


It takes a village to write a novel. Or in this case, a small army of medical specialists. I started Crash & Burn with the premise of a female who’d suffered some kind of head trauma, which had turned her into a stranger even to herself. Being a sucker for happy endings, I wanted an injury that would be serious, even life altering, but still hold out the promise of recovery. Enter my favorite pharmacist, Margaret Charpentier, and one of her students, Christine D’Amore, who promptly loaded me up with tons of information on traumatic brain injuries, their treatment and long-term impacts.

Given all the possibilities, I also consulted with one of my good friends and fellow thriller author, Dr. C. J. Lyons, who helped focus my search on post-concussive syndrome, a medical condition broad enough to cover just about anything I needed my heroine to do, while retaining the possibility of a positive future. In real life, Nicky would most likely require years to recover from her multiple concussions. Again, being a sucker for happy endings, I like to imagine her already headache free.

Once I’d selected my heroine’s injury, next step was to actually maim her. Enter Eric Holloman, accident reconstruction specialist. I like to feel he enjoyed the experience of creating his very own wreck from the ground up, instead of his usual job of analyzing what someone else had already done. Not many guys into physics get to that level of artistic freedom.