He waits until the knife moves again, then spins to the left, steps forward, and punches him in the side of the head. Then again, until the Magpie Man’s legs give way and he falls.

Then Dad is pinning him to the ground, punching him over and over again, taking out ten years of anger on the only person who deserves it.

He looks so big, towering over the man who ruined his life, and I see who he was before Mom died.

“Are you okay?” Jamie says, and I nod, even though I can feel tears streaming down my face.

I should be asking him that, and I touch the cloth covering his broken skin and say, “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

It is. Jamie is only here because of me. But if that was my fault, then so is this. So is my dad tilting his head back, taking deep breaths into the sky as the Magpie Man lies beaten on the ground, his face bloody, his eyes closed.

I stand up and touch Dad on the shoulder. “That’s enough.”

Chapter 139

The sirens drift through the night air, growing louder until they shatter the silence of the cemetery as flashing red and blue lights repaint the scene.

Elliot Farrell is handcuffed and pushed into the back of a police car.

I’ve pictured this moment so many times. But it doesn’t feel like I’d imagined. I don’t feel elation. We don’t celebrate. We just watch as the man who killed my mother is driven away, his eyes focused on us until we’re out of sight.

I used to have nightmares about those eyes, before I knew who they belonged to.

Now I hope he has nightmares about mine.

While Jamie is taken to the hospital, Dad and I sit by Mom’s grave, watching detectives unwind yellow tape, slowly barricading us in.

Dad stares at me, a look on his face I’ve never seen before. It’s a mixture of anger and fear and hatred and sorrow and everything in between.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember the code.”

“Of course I did,” Dad says. “You should be proud of yourself. The show worked.” The smallest hint of a smile flickers across his face before he says, “I was paying more attention than you thought. I always have.”

I don’t visit Mom’s grave enough. Nan does. She comes once a week, removing the dead flowers and replacing them with whatever’s in season. This week, there are bright pink gerberas to keep Mom company.

“We should come here more often,” I say.

“We should,” Dad replies.

I wonder if this is the change I’ve been so desperate for, if catching the Magpie Man will bring my old father back.

The early signs are good.

Chapter 140

It’s not until we’re home that I remember the receipt.