First Girl Gone(110)

“Anyway, I forgive you,” Charlie said, shrugging. “If that’s what you want to hear.”

She turned away, heading for the elevators. Inside, she jabbed a button with her finger, and the doors eased closed, sealing her away from the lawyer in the hallway.

“Damn. That was ice-cold, Charles,” Allie said. “I kind of love it, but… ouch.”





Epilogue





Two weeks after Todd Ritter entered his guilty plea, the snow that had blanketed Salem Island melted all at once. An unseasonably summery day descended upon eastern Michigan. It seemed to thaw the land itself.

The clouds parted, and the sun erupted in full force. The local weatherman, jubilant and almost breathless, made sure to use the graphic of the little sun cartoon character smiling beneath a pair of black sunglasses in every single one of his segments that day.

The first two days after the melt were a soggy mess. Every yard looked more like a swamp—brown grass swimming in a muddy soup. Standing water along most of the curbs, pools of it collecting atop the clogged storm drains.

But the sun remained. Persisted. Did its work. And on the third warm day, the ground dried out. The grass even started its journey back toward green.

When Charlie went for a walk that day, it felt like everyone in town was out and about. Enjoying the strangely pleasant run of weather. Most went without coats. The bravest of the lot even sported shorts.

“Actual sunshine on a January day?” Allie said. “What demonry is this?”

Charlie sniffed more than she laughed at the comment. Allie sometimes repeated jokes too often. She’d really run the “demonry” thing into the ground recently, slowly draining it of any comedic power.

Charlie fell in with the teeming masses out for a stroll. She walked down to the park, as did much of the crowd, it seemed. Usually the bustle might kill the joy in a walk, but not today. Today it felt good to be out here no matter what. Maybe it even felt good to be with other people, instead of cooped up in a building by herself. Not apart from everyone like she so often was. Not alone.

Ramsett Park itself wasn’t so busy, at least considering the crowd of foot traffic leading up to it and streaming past. Most of the picnic tables stood empty. All but one, in fact.

Charlie veered into the park when she saw who was there. She almost missed the turn, cutting off an older couple and apologizing as she stepped onto the sidewalk sloping down toward the trees.

She slowed as she drew closer to the two women occupying the picnic area, not wanting to get too close. Eventually she ambled out among the pines. Finding a spot where she could watch them among the boughs, for just a moment, without being seen.

Kara and Misty Dawkins ate sandwiches and talked. Mother and daughter reunited.

Charlie had visited Kara in the hospital, of course, and Kara and Misty had also stopped by Charlie’s office to thank her for all she did. But this was different. Seeing them out in the world. Living their lives. Carrying on.

Together again. Made whole again. Their wound already healing.

Charlie watched for no more than a minute, seeing this tiny snippet of their life, this tiny moment of simple warmth, simple lightness. She witnessed the little smiles that passed between them. Saw Misty dig a bottle of Pepsi out of the cooler for Kara.

And then Charlie was moving on. Away. Picking her way back through the pines to return to the throng of people heading out of the park and moving toward downtown Salem Island.

Charlie thought maybe Allie would make some joke about the situation. Some sarcastic remark or non sequitur to take the air out of the moment somehow, to degrade the reverence of it just a bit. Instead her sister went the other way with it.

“That was nice,” Allie said. “Seeing them together, I mean. A moment of light in a dark world, you know?”

Charlie could never have that with Allie. Justice. Reunion. The broken pieces made whole again. But she could help other people find it—not all, but some—and that seemed like something worth fighting for.

No one knew like her how badly people needed it.

She pressed back into the crowd, walked once more among the people. In some ways, she felt apart from them, but she wasn’t alone.