“My dad… he wouldn’t want me to be here, but I had to talk to you.” His voice wavered. Becca hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was piss off Paul Wilson. She wasn’t sure Aidan could help. He was a child when his mother left.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Becca said.

“I heard you talking about my mom. She hurt someone else, hasn’t she?”

“She hurt a lot of people. But we don’t have any proof.”

Aidan gestured to his scarred face. “I’m the proof, don’t you think?” Becca couldn’t imagine what it was like to wake up every day and see them—a permanent reminder of his mother’s cruelty. She wished they were proof.

“I wish that were enough. The only witness that knows what Mo… Maureen… did is my daughter Ash, and she’s in the ICU, unconscious and fighting for her life. I know what you’ve been through, but without eyewitness testimony, or a confession, the police don’t have enough to build a case. They need something to establish a pattern, something that says Maureen’s responsible.”

Aidan shifted from foot to foot, nervously kicking at the sand with his flip-flops. “Dad’s not a bad person. He’s pretty awesome. Gave up his career, all the money and stuff so we could have a simpler life. He’s just scared. I’m not. Not anymore. I just don’t want her to hurt anyone else.” Becca was impressed. He was so matter-of-fact, so resilient in spite of everything he’d been through. Aidan opened his backpack and pulled out a manila folder.

“What’s this?” Becca asked, reaching for it. She opened it up to find a stack of letters inside.

“It’s the proof you need to show everyone that my mom is a total fucking psycho.”

BECCA

BECCA

Becca studied the envelope, Aidan’s gaze watchful and a little uneasy. “I don’t understand. What is this?” He sighed, twisting his hands nervously, darting glances across the parking lot as though any minute his father might come racing over and rip the envelope from her hands.