Chapter 33
Katherine
I was sitting in the cottage living room, reading a book, when everything started to shake.
The windows rattled, and pictures fell from the walls.
I carefully got up and walked over to the large picture window that faced the ocean.
The water that had always been serene and calm now crashed violently against the shore.
“What the hell?” I whispered. I called for my husband. He didn’t answer. Maybe he was still out in the garden.
The cottage door blew open, and I saw Sunny and The Librarian standing on the porch, staring at me.
“Katherine, it’s time.” Sunny held out her hand.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Dahlia needs to be stopped. She’s risking the entire system,” The Librarian said. “And you’re the only one who can stop her. It’s time to go back, Katherine.”
“Why me? Let the others go instead. I like it here. I’m happy.”
“You’re the only one Dahlia won’t fight,” Sunny said. “You need to front and take control. It’s the only way to stop her.”
“When you wake, I’ll make sure you remember,” The Librarian said. “Do what you want with your memories. But the killings must stop. The walls are closing in on Dahlia, and the entire system is going to collapse.”
I stepped onto the porch, and the cottage door slammed shut. My white dress blew in the wind as I walked toward the ocean. I stopped and turned my head, staring at The Librarian and Sunny, who stood there and nodded.
My eyes flew open, and I looked around the room.
My heart raced out of my chest as my head felt like a jackhammer.
I slowly sat up, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.
I was back, and Dahlia was bound inside the cottage.
I climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom.
Gripping the edge of the sink, I stared at myself in the mirror.
My hair. Dahlia had dyed it blonde. I would have to fix that.
I headed downstairs. I stopped in the living room and stared at the painting that had haunted me for years.
I stepped into the kitchen and looked around, noting the missing chef’s knife from the wooden block.
“It stops here, Dahlia,” I whispered.
I made myself a cup of coffee and took it to the table.
I could hear the faint voices in my head.
The Librarian kept her word, giving me the memories I needed to survive.
Detective Walker believed I, Katherine, killed those men.
And I would be on the run, looking over my shoulder, for the rest of my life.
I didn’t want that. I was sick and needed help.
Dahlia’s phone pinged on the island. Glancing at it, there was a text from a woman named Tess.
Are you coming to the gallery today? You were supposed to be here two hours ago?
I picked up the phone and replied.
I’m sorry, Tess. I’m ill today. I won’t be in.
I ran upstairs and packed a bag, tossing in the clothes Dahlia wore and toiletries. Grabbing the car keys, I stepped out of the house. Before shutting the door, I took one last look.
“Hey, neighbor.” A woman next door waved. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I have to go on a business trip for a few days.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Los Angeles,” I lied. It was really none of her business.
“Have fun. I’ll keep an eye on the house while you’re gone.” She smiled.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
I climbed into the car and drove out of Key West. I stopped at a café in a place called Marathon.
“What can I get you, sweetie?” An older woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun asked.
“Coffee and oatmeal, please.”
“Coming right up.”
After I ate, I climbed back into the car and started my journey, following the GPS. Along the way, I saw a hair salon. Pulling into the lot, I climbed out and walked inside.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m hoping a stylist is available for a color.” I smiled.
“Let me check. Yes, Miranda is available. Have a seat, and she’ll be with you in a few.”
A couple of hours later, my hair was back to its original brown color, and I felt like myself again. Except for all the time I’d lost here in the outside world.
It wouldn’t be long before the police started looking for Dahlia, if they hadn’t already.
I needed to get rid of her car. So, I got off the expressway and found a car rental place.
As I pulled down the road, I took off the license plate and tossed it into a nearby dumpster.
I went to the car rental place and rented a car with MY driver’s license.
Thank God, Dahlia had the sense to keep it in a safe place while I was gone.
I headed back on the road, following the way out of Florida and to New York City.
The highway stretched endlessly ahead of me.
Mile after mile. State after state. I’d been on the road for sixteen hours already and had another nine hours before I reached New York City.
I pulled into the parking lot of a Motel 6 in Petersburg, Virginia.
It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it was the type of place where I could rent a room, pay cash, and give a fake name.
I entered the office. A bald, oversized man, wearing a dirty white tank, smoking a cigar, sat behind the glass.
“How many nights?” he asked without looking up.
“Just one,” I replied.
“Sign the register.” He pointed. “I take cash and no questions. If you pay by credit card, there’s a three percent fee, and I ask questions.”
“Cash,” I said as I signed the register with a fake name.
I handed him the cash for a one-night stay, and he handed me the key to room 210.
“Out the door, second level, on the end,” he said.
“Thank you.”
I opened the door and stepped inside. It wasn’t too bad.
I threw my keys on the table and set my purse down.
This would be the last day of my freedom.
Come tomorrow, after a nine-hour drive to New York City, I’d become a prisoner of the State of New York.
I’d tell Detective Walker everything. Would she believe me?
Probably not. But turning myself in had to count for something.
This was the only way to put an end to Dahlia for good.