Chapter 37-Present
My hands trembled as I gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.
I didn’t start the engine. I didn’t even try.
Instead, I let the weight of it all settle in.
Not just what Betty had said—but what she hadn’t.
What she’d seen.
What she’d chosen to carry all these years without ever saying a word.
And me—carrying it in silence, pretending the past would stay where it belonged.
But now someone else knew.
Someone had always known—
I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to go there.
Not to let it all rush back in.
I’d let the weakness show for one brief moment, sitting there in the parking lot.
But that was it.
That was all it got.
I couldn’t fall apart now.
I had to finish what I came here to do—then get as far away from Shay as possible.
I trusted Mrs. Betty to keep her version of the truth locked away.
But if anyone ever found the key...
I didn’t want to be here when that door opened.
I started the car and pulled onto the road.
As my tires sliced through the wet streets of Shay, I found myself praying—
that this next interview wouldn’t leave me quite so shaken.
I didn’t have a set time to meet with Suzie, but I’d given her a heads-up that I’d be stopping by sometime today.
My heart was still racing as I pulled into the clinic’s parking lot—and it only beat harder when my hand brushed against the plastic bag shoved deep beneath my notebook and recorder.
I decided it was best not to bring the whole bag in with me.
Unlike the last interview, I didn’t plan to stay long—I couldn’t.
I pulled out what I needed, zipped the bag shut, and tossed it into the floorboard, burying what I knew would be waiting for me when I came back.
Clutching my notebook and recorder to my chest, I rushed toward the entrance.
The Kelly-green awning offered just enough cover to keep the rain from soaking me through.
I hesitated for a beat, then pulled the door open.
The smell hit instantly—a sharp mix of antiseptic, wet fur, and old kibble.
It clung to the back of my throat, thick enough to make me adjust my breathing. My stomach was still unsettled from earlier.
The receptionist gave me a polite nod and disappeared down a hallway. A few moments later, Suzie appeared through a side door and waved me back.
She was nothing like Mrs. Betty.
Soft-spoken. Steady. Not one for long-winded stories.
I kept my questions short and let her talk.
She walked me through what she remembered from the day Paul pulled her out of the lake.
It matched what had already been written years ago—no dramatic twists, no new revelations.
I didn’t bother asking if she had anything else to add.
After what happened with Betty, I figured I’d spare myself the risk.
But just as I thought we were wrapping up, she reached for her bag.
A flicker of panic lit up in my chest.
Not again—I thought to myself.
She pulled out a photo.
It was her and Paul, taken at the hospital.
She was propped up in bed, hair damp and tangled.
He stood beside her, smiling with his hand resting gently on the bedrail.
“He brought me a vanilla milkshake,” she said, studying the picture. “I didn’t even like vanilla. But I drank it anyway.”
Then she handed it to me.
“You can use this for the article, if you want.”
I nodded and tucked the photo carefully between the pages of my notebook.
We stood, exchanged a quiet smile and a gentle handshake, and I made my way back out into the rain.
I tossed the recorder onto my bag but kept a tight grip on my notebook.
Slowly, I flipped it open to the page where I’d tucked the photo.
I held it for a long moment.
Suzie—a small little girl—giving a wide, toothy grin.
Paul—handsome and kind—smiling like he’d risk his life all over again to save her.
It was a small photo—a quiet one.
But it carried more weight than I expected.
I slipped it back between the pages and closed the notebook.
And like the rain falling steady on my windshield, the tears came—it was all too much to hold back.