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Back Confess to Me Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Sharon Doering
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58
  64. 59
  65. 60
  66. 61
  67. 62
  68. 63
  69. 64
  70. 65
  71. 66
  72. 67
  73. 68
  74. 69
  75. 70
  76. 71
  77. 72
  78. 73
  79. 74
  80. 75
  81. 76
  82. 77
  83. 78
  84. 79
  85. Author’s Note
  86. Acknowledgements
  87. About the Author

When Alice Paulson was in custody for my mom’s murder, her husband’s health improved. It turned out she’d been feeding him high doses of Valium to keep him out of her way, so she could clean up his mess like she always had. Cliff Paulson was in the thick of lawyers, trouble, and bankruptcy. It looked like Brandon Paulson might be able to walk away clean.

I wondered about the texts Brandon had sent me. He lured me to Hunther so he could blackmail Trevor, but had he also wanted his parents to face justice? He set this in motion; he had to know I would expose his parents.

Desiree got probation. All of her crimes, she claimed, she’d done because Pierce had threatened her. She was still working at Aldi’s. Her attempted breaking and entering charge had been dropped too, like she’d predicted.

Sinclaire mailed me a flash drive, and I passed it along to Holly. She worked with a journalist to tell the Paulson story. Two more of Dr. Paulson’s patients came forward and claimed they’d been manipulated and mistreated.

I wasn’t sure Holly and I would keep in touch once I moved back to Chicago, but I was OK with that and I thought she was too.

My goals were meager. Forgive myself for the trouble I’d caused. Forgive myself for lacking self-identity. Change your narrative. Forgive and forgive.

We have three kittens. Mildy, Ninja, and Jellybean.

“Now that we have pets, you can’t leave me,” Trevor said.

“I never would.”

I wouldn’t divorce you even if your sixteen-year-old self thought my mother murdered your first love and you beat up my brother and painted our house’s windows with deer blood and your current self got blackmailed into smuggling venomous reptiles.

I wouldn’t say this aloud because Trevor was struggling to forgive himself too. But damn, that’s a creative one, isn’t it? Truth was always stranger than fiction.

79

79

After Christmas, Holly mailed me a box. She’d finally finished going through Mom’s stuff. When it arrived, I locked myself in the bathroom with a pair of scissors, sat on the floor, took a deep breath, and opened it.

There were a few ribbons from art contests I’d won, a photo of my soccer team, a few pictures I’d drawn for my mom. A still life of fruit. A curled-up cat. They weren’t bad. Lots of photos. I studied them, brushed my thumb over their glossy surface. There were pieces of torn notebook paper. Maybe pages out of my mom’s journal. Honestly, she didn’t seem like the type. Maybe these were letters she’d written. I started with the paper on top.