Chapter 44

Murphy glanced toward the path again. The gunshot had come from that direction and the team was mobilizing.

He saw Steve stumble out of the woods with Jennifer in his arms.

The lights in the yard gave him a good look at his young protégé and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Steve collapsed with her on the lawn and Murphy started running.

They were both unconscious and barely breathing when the ambulance pulled in to bring her to the hospital in Concord, and the Life Star Helicopter landed to take him to Boston.

Neither one of them saw the sunrise over Mirror Lake, just as Bill had predicted.

Chapter 45

“Oh Lord, help me get through today,” she whispered. Her voice echoed in the empty chapel. It was the first time Jennifer had been back to Brooksfield since that horrible day two months before.

She slowly pushed her wheelchair out of the small church. The cold, misty day slapped at her cheeks while her black hair hung in her eyes. She rolled toward the gravesite. A wilted rose lay in her lap.

Sighing, she stopped in front of the shiny new headstone engraved with care. A tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the rose.

Picking up the flower, she tossed it onto Tracy’s grave. “I miss you,” she whispered to her best friend’s headstone. “I am so sorry.”

His hand descended on her shoulder, making her jerk in surprise. She turned and looked at him, eyes wide with shock. She hadn’t seen him in two months, since she killed that thing.

It had been a miracle that he’d been able to carry her for over a mile, and still another that he was alive at all. Along with the broken arm resting in a sling, the only visible scar traversed his cheek, and continued down his neck, stretching under his crisp white shirt.

The tailored black suit hid the bulk of his injuries. Bandages wrapped around his torso, immobilizing four broken ribs. Angry red scars from the beast’s claws cut across his chest and back along with the multiple stab wounds, all hidden by the dark Armani knock-off. He’d cut his hair recently, shorter and cleaner than it had been in early September.

“It wasn’t your fault, babe,” he said, looking at Tracy’s gravestone. If I hadn’t called her…

“Murphy said you almost died.”

Steve nodded. “They told me I did. It was touch and go for a while, I guess.” He glanced back at her and her tears started again. “But I was damned if I was going to die and never see you again.”

“When did you get out of the hospital?” she asked through the tears.

“Last week. My parents have been taking care of me and it really sucks.” He offered her a hint of a smile. “This is the first time I’ve been in Brooksfield, though. I heard you were coming.”

Jennifer nodded. “My folks drove me up.”

Steve nodded. “I know. Your mom called.” He took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you come see me?”

Jennifer began to sob and shake her head. “I was afraid to.”

Steve turned the wheelchair toward him and knelt in front of her, trying not to wince. “Why?” he asked, his own eyes welling with tears. He had enough exposure to rape victims to know the answer, but he asked anyway.

“Because you saw, you saw everything.”

Steve took her hands in his and put his head on her knees, grappling with the mental anguish. Hot tears burned the back of his throat. Yes, he saw everything, every nasty vile thing they did to her, but it didn’t alter the depth of his emotion. He loved her and failed her.

He shook his head slowly and looked up, the tears running hot tracks down his cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them,” he whispered. “That I couldn’t protect you.”

“You did the best you could under the circumstances.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp and wiped her face.

Steve looked down at the ground. “I should have taken you into custody when I first realized you were in the middle of this. If…”

Jennifer cut him off. “Stop! There was nothing either of us could have done differently. If we had, we would be dead right now and that thing would still be alive.”

He knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the nightmares or the feeling of responsibility over what happened to Tracy. Steve looked up at her. “Do you still love me?” he asked, deathly afraid of the answer.

Jennifer nodded, tears spilling from her eyes again, lining her cheeks. “Do you?”

“God, yes,” he said, wiping the tears off his face. “You are what kept me alive.” He removed a small box from his pocket and took her hand. “I don’t ever want to wake up without you by my side again. Ever.” He looked at Tracy’s headstone. “This isn’t exactly the grand spectacle I’d originally planned, but Tracy helped me pick these out so I figure she would appreciate being a part of it in some way.” He looked back at Jennifer and slipped a ring on her finger. “Jennifer Ann Curtis, will you marry me?” he whispered, his eyes sparkling with tears.

Jennifer lowered her eyes to her hand and a ray of sunshine broke through the haze hitting the diamond ring he had placed on her finger. A prism of light surrounded them in the lonely graveyard. She glanced into his eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and her throat constricted from the wave of emotions crashing over her.

Overwhelmed, Jennifer couldn’t utter a sound. She closed her eyes to gain control, sucking her bottom lip and taking a deep inhale through her nose.

“Jenny?” he asked, his voice laced with doubt.

“Yes,” she whispered, and opened her eyes.

Steve let a slow smile form on his lips. He kissed her gently and stood, pushing her wheelchair into the chapel. “How about right now?” he whispered in her ear, pushing her up the aisle.

His parents stood at the front of the chapel along with Murphy, and a priest. And for the briefest instant, Jennifer thought she saw Tracy, standing by the altar in a hideous pumpkin bridesmaid dress with a Cheshire-cat grin on her face. With a blink of her eyes, the apparition was gone.

Jennifer laughed softly. “Right now is as good a time as any.” She looked up at him with the first real smile she felt since the night the three of them binged on tequila and dancing.

The End

Acknowledgements

There are so many people I want to thank, first and foremost, my husband and kids. Without their patience, I could never have come this far.

Special thanks to Todd Cyboron for taking the time to show me the differences between a .22 caliber, .40 caliber and a 9mm and teaching me to shoot all three. Hell, I’m amazed I hit the bull’s-eye but I guess that’s a direct reflection on the teacher. Thank you.

I also need to send a special thank you to my son’s Jukido instructor, Master Joaquin Betancourt, thank you for your help with a couple moves outlined in this and subsequent Steve Williams’ books. And while I’m on the subject of Jukido, I need to give a shout out to Mike and the other Jukido parents for their tireless interest in poking holes in my plot lines and planting the seeds for some interesting future ideas.

Next is the small subset of beta readers/editing partners who waded through multiple edits of Mirror Lake (former title of Dark Reckoning): Allison Pang, Melisa Holden and Tamara Girardi. Thank you for your very shrewd feedback on what worked and what didn’t. I definitely wouldn’t be here without your input!

In addition to my beta readers, I have a handful of faithful readers who saw the rougher cuts of the book and offered their honest reactions: Darren Houle, F.H. Taylor, Judy Taylor, Bill Monroe, Sarah Hughes, Kathy Denis and Steve McVey. Thank you.

Last, but not least, I want to give a shout out to those not listed above that push me to be a better writer to dig deeper and I thank you from the bottom of my heart: Lynette Ekland, Ty Drago, Ryan Bruner, Margie Lawson, and to all the folks over at Backspace (bksp.org), props to Karen and Chris for building the best writing community on the web!