Chapter 34
Sloane
I was making tea when Knox appeared in the kitchen doorway later that month.
My hands only shook slightly now when I was alone. Progress. According to my therapist, all steps toward peace, big or small, were worth celebrating. I tried to celebrate whatever I could these days. “Hey,” I said, glancing up at him when he didn’t speak or approach me. “What’s up?”
“Walter Senior is here,” Knox said.
The kettle slipped from my grip. Hit the counter with a metallic clang. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
Knox caught the kettle before it hit the ground. “He wants to talk to us.”
My muscles clenched, and my ears rang. Images of the day a serial killer choked me inside my home and held a knife above my battered body returned in a nauseating flash. “Why?”
“I don’t know. But he asked to talk to us. Both of us.”
“What? Why?” My voice came out sharp. Defensive.
“You don’t have to,” he said quickly, setting the kettle down and moving closer. “I can send him away. Or I can talk to him alone.”
I rolled my shoulders back and raised my chin. “I can’t promise I won’t get up and leave.”
He nodded. “No one will blame you if you do.”
Knox set his hand against the small of my back and led me outside. A small blessing. I didn’t want that man to step foot across the threshold.
The father of the monster who’d tried to kill me stood on Knox’s porch. It seemed ridiculously unfair for him to ask anything of me.
My throat ached with phantom pain. The barely healed bruises throbbed. I felt the gloved hand pressing against my skin, stealing my oxygen.
We moved to a set of chairs together. Knox stayed close, his hand in mine. Protective. Ready to intervene if I needed him.
Walter Senior leaned against the handrail. He looked terrible. Hollow-eyed. Gray-faced. Like grief had carved him out from the inside.
I let my thigh touch Knox’s leg beside me. Drawing strength from his presence.
“I won’t ask for forgiveness,” Walter began. His voice was hoarse. Broken. “I don’t deserve it. But I need you to know... I need you to understand.”
My eyebrows snapped up. Knox brushed his thumb across the back of my hand.
“I suspected Junior was up to something bad for some time. For months. Maybe longer.” Walter’s hands knotted together in his lap. “I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t have much more to go on than a gut feeling, so I didn’t do anything to stop him.”
The world fell silent except for the distant sound of waves and gulls.
My chest tightened. He’d known. He’d suspected his son was killing women, and he’d done nothing.
“It started small,” Walter continued. “Things I could explain away. Junior would come to the island during tourist season. Said he loved the crowds, the energy. I believed him. Why wouldn’t I? It’s paradise on earth.”
Walter swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Then women started disappearing. And the timing... the timing was always when Junior had been here. But I told myself it was a coincidence. That the island gets thousands of tourists. That correlation isn’t causation.”
His voice cracked. “I told myself a lot of things so I wouldn’t have to face the truth.”
Anger burned beneath my ribs. Hot and bitter.
“When did you know?” Knox asked. His voice was hard. Unforgiving.
“Claire.” Walter’s eyes filled with tears. “Your mother. She came to me. She thought Junior spent too much time hanging around the shop, just watching. Then she noticed him following a woman, and it made her uncomfortable. She said she thought he took photos of women while he was hanging around.”
Knox went rigid beside me.
“What kind of photos?” His words came out clipped. Dangerous.
“I didn’t know. But I was upset with her for the accusation.
I sent her away. One night when he left his phone unlocked and fell asleep watching something online, I looked through his camera roll.
Claire was right. It was all women. Always alone.
None of them seemed to have a clue they were being photographed.
He had dozens of pictures like that. Hundreds maybe.
” Walter’s hands were shaking now. “I told myself taking photos wasn’t the same as hurting anyone. ”
Walter’s face crumpled. “I promised Claire I’d handle it, but she terminated my contract. I told him to stay away from Island Adventures and the customers.”
“Did he?” Knox asked.
“Yes, but he didn’t like me telling him what to do, so he started spending more nights somewhere else.
He called it camping. I wouldn’t see him for days.
And I kept making excuses. Hoping I was wrong about the missing hikers and him.
Then that woman went missing. Jessica Hammond.
” Walter met Knox’s eyes. “I recognized her from his photos.”
The guilt in his voice was devastating.
“I still told myself that both things could be true without them being connected. Just because he’d taken her photo didn’t mean he took her.”
My hands curled into fists. The scabs on my palms pulled tight.
“I confronted him after you were attacked at your party,” Walter said, turning his attention to me now. “He said I was being paranoid. That he’d been on the mainland all week.”
“But you didn’t believe him,” I said.
“I wanted to, but it was all adding up in my mind. I didn’t want to point the finger unless I knew. How do you tell the sheriff your son might be taking women, unless you know it’s true. What kind of father would I have been?”
Understanding crashed over me. The strange encounters. Walter appearing at odd times.
“You were watching us because you were watching for him,” I said.
Walter nodded miserably. “I needed to know I was wrong. He’s my only child.”
“People died, Walter,” Knox said. His voice was hard as stone. “Because you wanted to protect your son instead of holding him accountable.”
“I know.”
We sat in heavy silence.
My throat burned. My eyes stung with tears I refused to shed in front of him.
Finally, Walter stood. “I’m leaving the island. Selling my property. The FBI can do whatever they want with it. And I’m testifying against Junior. I’ll answer whatever questions I’m asked, and I’ll be honest about it all.”
He moved toward the steps, then paused. Turned back.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Knox stood and watched as Walter retreated down the stairs. I stayed seated, unable to move. Unable to process everything I’d just heard.
Knox returned and sat beside me, pulling me against his chest.
I pressed my face to his shoulder, breathing in his scent. Letting the solid warmth of him anchor me.
“Come on,” he said. He took my hand and led me to the back porch. We sat together as the sun set, and I thought about Claire. The courage it took her to confront Walter. And the burden she’d carried until the day she died.
“Your mother tried to stop him,” I whispered. “She tried to do the right thing.”
“I know.” Knox’s voice was rough. “She always did.”
I lifted my head, meeting his eyes. “Like mother, like son.”
Knox closed his eyes and inhaled.
We stayed like that until darkness fell, and the weight of the day finally lifted.
When Knox carried me upstairs to bed, I reminded myself that the nightmares would fade. And our love was enough to heal the parts of me that had been broken.