Epilogue
… Dreams
Tru
I did it. I pulled the trigger and now he’s dead. Gone forever.
I’m finally safe, at least from him.
The devil no longer has a hold on me. He is no more.
I slide to the ground, the cold and wet soaking through my lounge pants.
The gun falls from my hand, and I expect to feel…free. Completely free.
But since the day I first met Alain Robicheaux, anxiety has been my constant companion.
Even his death—at my own hand, no less—hasn’t brought me peace.
No. The only hint of peace I’ve felt since that godawful day is what I’ve found in the depths of sharp brown eyes. His voice a melodic balm to my constantly frayed nerves. His touch is the only one I can tolerate. No. I don’t just tolerate his touch, I crave it.
The world around me buzzes in a static, disconnected way. And then everything goes still, calm.
Peace rains down on me, swirling like a fog, and wrapping me up in a protective bubble.
The buzz becomes a hum.
The hum becomes a murmur.
The murmur clarifies into words.
But it’s all a trick, a figment of my imagination.
“Truie, come back to me. Don’t drift away, a cuisle . Look at me, come on. I need you here with me.”
That voice.
It’s the one from my dreams.
…The End