Epilogue
Three Months Later
I stand back to admire the plaque on the trail-marker post after Russell and Emma drive it into the ground at the Grave Creek Trailhead.
Emma moves beside me, placing her hands on her hips, as we both read the words Russell had etched onto the metal plate.
In loving memory of Courtney Vance, lost to these woods but never forgotten.
“Thanks for coming with me.” Russell folds his arms, his gaze fixed on the trail marker. “I know my sister had her faults, but it means a lot to be able to remember her with the people who were closest to her.”
“I’m glad we came.” I turn and gaze at the dirt parking area, vacant aside from our three vehicles, just as it was twenty years ago.
“Me too.” Emma shades her eyes with her hands and looks in the direction of the river.
After Russell and I were rescued by the cruise ship’s pilot boat, Emma was helicoptered to an Oregon hospital for emergency surgery.
Once we were checked out by the ship’s nurse, Russell and I were taken to the nearest seaside town to recount the events of the trip to the police.
Russell finally admitted to forging the note from Courtney and spraying her old perfume on the boat, hoping it would make us confess what really happened to her.
In the days following, another search was conducted for Courtney’s remains by a dive team in the Sol Duc, but no trace of her was found.
Beth, too, was never found, despite the Coast Guard’s thorough search for her in the waters where the rest of us were rescued.
I cast a sideways glance at Emma. You would never know by looking at her tanned, toned self that she nearly died from the bullet wound two inches below her heart. I gaze up to see a red-tailed hawk soar above us, wings outstretched beneath the blue sky.
Russell lifts his tool bag and looks between me and Emma. “Ready?”
“Yep.” I turn to Emma, who takes a last look at the trail, and follow her gaze.
“Ready,” she says.
After loading his tools into his truck bed, Russell puts his hands on his hips. “You two up for a drink?”
“Sorry,” Emma says. “I’ve got to film a video of my current renovation project tonight for my YouTube channel.”
After Target dropped her housewares line during our trip, Emma started filming her house-flipping projects on YouTube. In only three months, she’s grown over one million followers and has offers from three department stores to carry her line.
Russell turns to me. “What about you?”
“Sorry, I have to pick up my girls from my mom’s in Sequim and then head home.” When I told Mom about Matt’s leaving, she was incredibly supportive, moving in with me over the summer to help take care of the girls while I returned to work.
You don’t seem surprised about Matt, I’d told her. I thought you’d be devastated.
She waved her hand through the air as if swatting a fly. Good riddance. I never wanted to intrude, but I always thought you could do better than him.
Once Matt realized he’d been duped and that Sydney hadn’t been the one who’d been messaging him online, he asked to move back in with me, begging for my forgiveness, assuring me that it would never happen again. I told him to pound sand.
“I have an early shift tomorrow in the ER,” I add.
My initial fears about returning to work after my mistake paled in comparison to everything we went through on the trip, making my return to work surprisingly easy.
In fact, I felt bored working on the surgical unit.
After discovering how calm I could be in emergencies, I had a newfound desire to help save people who’d been through trauma.
“Well, thanks again for coming out.”
The three of us hug goodbye before Emma and I turn our separate ways for our cars. I climb behind the wheel of my Bronco and sink against the seat, thinking of Courtney, Beth, and everything we went through on that sailing trip from hell.
“Hey, Palmer!”
I lean out my open driver’s door to see Russell jogging toward me.
“How about Friday?”
I must look confused, because he adds, “For a drink. Just you and me.”
“Oh.” I rack my brain for an excuse, but Matt will have the girls on Friday, and I have the day off. I don’t even work on Saturday.
“I’m starting my own tech company, a modern take on the software my dad built, and it’s based out of Bellevue, so I’m not far from you.
” He rests his muscular arm on my doorframe, and I think how Beth was right.
He does look like Chris Pratt. “I mean, you did kind of save my life. Seems like I owe you a drink. Or two.”
I bite my lip.
“Well?”
My pulse quickens. I can’t date him. He’s Courtney’s brother.
He smiles. My heart flutters. What would be the harm in just one?
“Friday would be great.”
On my drive back to my mom’s house, I find myself turning down the street Beth grew up on.
I’d driven slowly through Sequim’s quaint downtown, taking in the familiar buildings.
It’s the first time in twenty years that I’ve felt at peace with this place.
That I can drive through town with my head held high.
I park in front of Beth’s childhood home where her parents still live. The shades are drawn, and I can’t tell if anyone’s home.
My phone chimes with a text. I lift my phone from my purse, seeing it’s from my sister, Kate. How did it go? I type a quick reply. It went good. I’ll call you on my way home.
I drop my phone back into my bag and survey Beth’s old house.
Beth had a point—after Courtney died, I did hold people at arm’s length, even my own family.
Since returning home from our nightmare trip, I’ve made an effort to keep in better touch with my sister.
Now, we hardly let a day go by without at least texting.
My gaze settles on the red front door. Beth’s house has hardly changed in twenty years. I want to knock on the door and embrace Beth’s grieving parents in a hug. But I’m not sure they want to see me.
Beth’s confession of killing Courtney made the national news after I told detectives everything that had happened on our trip, including my clubbing Beth with the binoculars in the ocean to get away from her after shooting her with the flare gun.
I pull onto the street, looking back at the familiar home in my rearview mirror. My heart goes out to them, what they must be going through, along with Gigi’s parents. Although, finding out that Beth was a murderer must’ve felt like losing their daughter twice.
I brake at the stop sign at the end of the street and wonder if they’re clinging to the hope Beth is still alive, despite learning she was a killer. A dark-haired woman walks beside my car on the sidewalk.
I draw in a sharp breath at the sight of her dark wavy hair. Sitting frozen behind the wheel, I study the woman from behind as she rounds the corner, pulling a bulldog on a leash. Goose bumps prickle my arms. Beth?
Behind me, a car honks. The dark-haired woman startles at the sound, whipping around.
I heave a sigh, collapsing against the back of my seat.
It’s not Beth. I see now that, aside from her hair, the woman doesn’t look anything like her.
She appears to be close to fifty and is heavier and a few inches shorter than Beth.
The car behind me honks again, and I turn left, away from the woman I thought was my late best friend.
I fix my gaze on the Olympic Mountains in the distance, with my hometown at their feet, as I speed away from the street Beth grew up on.
It wasn’t the first time since our deadly sailing trip that I’d thought I’d seen Beth. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.
While there’s a part of me that will always miss her, there’s a part of Beth that will always haunt me.