Chapters (57)
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Hear More from Gregg
- Books by Gregg Olsen
- A Letter from Gregg
- Acknowledgements
“Shhh… I don’t want to cover this ground ever again. We can be sorry and wallow in our own self-pity or we can move on and love each other forever. It’s what we chose to do, babe. Remember? We chose love.”
Amy didn’t say anything more.
Regina stayed quiet too. She had said everything that truly mattered. Their love was stronger than any disagreement ever could be.
Eighteen
This is how my brain works. Little things spark big things. It would be far easier for me if I could just forget. Forget who I am. Where I come from. That my brother hates me. That I haven’t had a boyfriend for three years—and that’s being generous. A one-night stand from a Tinder pick-up doesn’t really count, right?
Make that five years.
I think of Maxine Jacobson and all those cats. I think of Joshua and Sarah. The case is spooling through my head. The sweet potato vine. I grew one just like that when I was a girl.
I text Sheriff a reminder that we’ll need a search warrant.
We need to find the hammer.
DNA results will be all we need. Have a good night. Enjoying a bowl of rabbit food for dinner, wishing for a taco.
Your wife wants you to stick around. We all do. Good night, Bugs.
I reach for the next tape and slide it into the recorder. Dr. Albright is telling me to lie back and tell me what happened after we got off the ferry.
Me: Okay. I remember seeing the front page of the Seattle Times. It was right there, you know. Staring at us. It was our house. Our photographs. I remember the headline: “Port Orchard Murder Mystery Stuns Neighborhood. Father Dead, Mother and Children Missing.” (pause: noise of static on the tape) Sorry. Just thinking of how real it all became. I knew it was real, of course. It was that by seeing our photos and Dad’s name and Mom’s and reading what the neighbors thought of us. Just made it real.
Dr. A: I’ll need to turn the tape over now.
Me: Okay.
As I do the same, my mind wanders back to that time. How I looped through the ferry collecting all the newspapers and tossing them in the recycle box. I knew that I looked different than the photograph. Hayden too. But I wasn’t about to take a chance.
The tape starts playing again.