Timothy realized that right now he had no way of knowing. He could figure all that out later—if the guy really had been there. Right now, here in the basement, he had to take care of this body at his feet.

Before beginning to dig, Timothy rested the shovel on the ground and crouched by Julianne’s side. “Why did you have to die?” he asked her softly. “Things are going to be different now. You shouldn’t have died.”

He nudged her shoulder. Not hard. Not hard enough to leave a bruise. Just like you might do with a friend you’re messing around with.

And then he heard her response: “I would have stayed alive if you would’ve let me. I’d still be here, if only you would’ve stepped back, not held on to my neck so long.”

“But I didn’t. I—”

“Yes, you did. Why did you hold on? Even when you could see it was hurting me?”

“I don’t remember holding you. I don’t remember any of that.”

“You choked me just like Lonnie choked Rose. It was just like in your novel.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Timothy took her hand in his. Her dead, flaccid hand.

He was shaking as he tenderly kissed her wrist, but it wasn’t like in the fairy tales. She didn’t come back to life. She didn’t magically awaken.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Though he spoke the words aloud, his voice was pained and quiet, a child speaking.

“I can’t help you clean this up,” Julianne told him. He was surprised at how clearly she spoke without ever moving her lips. She just lay there and didn’t open her eyes and didn’t move her jaw, but yet he heard her as clear as day. “You’ve made a mess of things. You’ll have to take care of it yourself.”

“Alright, Julianne. Alright, I will.”

He found a freshly washed bedsheet and laid it over her so she wouldn’t get dirty while he was digging and so he wouldn’t have to look at her looking at him as he worked.

Then he drove the shovel into the dirt floor and began to dig Julianne Springman’s grave.

40

We convened at the Field Office for a briefing.

Sasha rode with Greer, Ralph met us there, and after introductions, the four of us headed down the hall toward DeYoung’s office.

On the way, Greer slipped off to the restroom, and a few moments later I received a call from Christie. Although I kept walking, I hung back from the team to answer it.

“Hey,” I said warmly. “How are you?”

“Good. I’m good.”

“And your weekend? Do you feel refreshed?”

“I think so. Refocused, at least.”

“That’s what you wanted, right?”

A pause. “Yes. Listen, is Tessa okay? I just listened to the message you left the other night. You mentioned she was upset?”