Chapter 40
The news broke immediately that Hazel had been found alive.
Thomas “Tommy” Dearling was arrested for the murder of Alexandria Hopely, and Suzannah Dearling arrested for the kidnapping and imprisonment of Hazel Dearling.
From what Pullman told my parents, Suzannah had given them a full confession in exchange for a lighter sentence.
She presented the same story as Hazel, including more details, like the fact that she had been the one to load Hazel’s bike into her SUV and return it to my father’s house before he got home from work.
In the days she had kept Hazel hostage, she had never told Tommy the truth.
He really had no idea where she was. That part, at least, brought me some comfort.
That Tommy hadn’t been lying about his concern for her. He really had been looking.
The media latched on to the story. Reporters crowded outside of the hospital, Tommy’s house, my parents’ house. We couldn’t step outside without a camera being thrown in our faces or someone shouting at us.
And Will was once again in the public eye. The detectives had gone to the prison the same night Tommy and Suzannah were arrested and updated him on the case. He was so upset that they’d had to sedate him. He spent twelve hours sleeping it off in the prison infirmary.
The district attorney held a press conference a few days later, promising to do everything she could to expedite the process, ensure the real perpetrator was brought to justice, and secure Will’s release.
Tommy had made it easy. He was going to plead guilty.
There would be no massive trial. None of us could have taken another one
The media coverage on me was mixed. Sure, I had been technically correct: Will was innocent.
But one of my brothers had killed Alex. Nothing I did to the Hopelys in the wake of Alex’s murder could be excused, especially accusing Gary, which had now been proven completely untrue.
And until I shared what he had done to me with the rest of the world, no one would forgive me.
My brother was still the monster, and so was I.
Four days after Tommy’s arrest, I was at the house alone.
My parents had taken Hazel to a counseling center for therapy.
Steve and the kids had gone back to Tampa, and Mom was going to follow once the dust settled here.
From the whispered conversations I’d overheard, it seemed she was planning on taking Hazel with her too.
Even with Tommy out of the picture, Loxahatchee felt cursed.
I had not seen or spoken to my niece or nephew yet, who were now living with Suzannah’s parents.
I spent half the day wandering in and out of the rooms of my father’s house thinking about all the happy memories we made here. Before any of this had happened.
I answered my phone only for calls from Flannery or Marta, both of whom had been frequently checking in.
I found a bottle of vodka in the freezer.
I took it to the backyard, over to the Adirondack chairs we had near the fire pit.
From here, I had a good view of the Hopelys’ house.
There had been a flurry of activity over there the last few days, as they were preparing to reacquaint themselves with their grief. We had all caused them so much pain.
I took a long gulp straight from the bottle, closing my eyes, letting the sun beat down on me. It reminded me so much of childhood: The feeling of Florida’s heat never leaves you.
“You’ve got the good stuff,” a voice said.
I kept my eyes closed. I recognized that voice, even though it had been years since I had heard it. Despite the fact that it sounded older, and weathered.
I opened my eyes to look at her.
“Hi, Cassandra,” I said softly.