Epilogue
It turned out that putting all of one’s effort into framing other people for their crime left a person with very little remaining time to cover their own tracks if the cops eventually decided to look in their direction.
Raina had previously informed the police that she had been at home at the time of Savannah’s murder.
She’d even secured an eyewitness to confirm her arrival home, with whom the police had not even bothered to speak until they were encouraged to do so by Amie’s accusation.
Raina had not, however, accounted for the eyewitness who saw her exiting her apartment soon after via the fire escape.
Her story quickly fell apart after that.
About six months after the fall festival, Amie and Ziya flew to Iceland.
“I’m gonna want to do a bunch of stuff you’ve already done,” Amie warned. “Is that okay?”
“I can handle some repeats,” Ziya assured her. “Watching you experience it all for the first time will be worth it.”
“It’ll be worth it because you’ll enjoy it,” Amie corrected her.
“That, too,” Ziya conceded, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. “Especially if we see the northern lights.”
By the night before their departure, Ziya’s confidence was clearly wavering as they looked at the weather forecast for the week ahead.
“We could get a partial refund,” she offered as they looked sadly at the line of cartoon clouds. “Try again next month.”
Amie shut the laptop. “No,” she said firmly. “We’re doing this. Northern lights or no, this is going to be a good trip.”
The sky was overcast for almost the entirety of their time in Iceland. A brief, hopeful Monday of sun had gone cloudy once more by the time evening arrived. But that didn’t deter the two from enjoying themselves.
They were preparing to go out on their final night when David called.
“I just wanted to say there’s no rush to look at the pages of the new book draft I emailed you,” he said.
Amie put him on speakerphone so she could finish pulling on her boots.
“Also, I sent you two newer versions in the past three hours. So ignore the first two. And possibly the third if I send another within the next hour.”
“I received every version,” Amie confirmed, shoving her foot into the snow boot. “We just finished reading the last one. It was great! I would have called you, but I thought you were with your family.”
“Everyone’s out of the house for the afternoon, thank god,” David said. “I’ve been using this beautiful peace and quiet to edit.”
“Don’t act like you haven’t been enjoying yourself,” called Ziya from across the hotel room. “You sent us, like, a hundred photos of your niece at the zoo.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying myself,” David argued. “I can enjoy my family while still appreciating some silence when I can get it. How’s the weather looking tonight?”
“Clearest it’s been,” Amie reported, pulling on her other boot. “We’re keeping expectations low.”
“Just remember,” David said, “there are thousands of photos and videos of the aurora borealis online that you can look at for free—”
“Noted,” Amie said, cutting him off. “Thank you so much as always for your sage wisdom.”
“Happy to help. Have fun, kid.”
They left the hotel soon after saying goodbye to David, getting on a shuttle that drove them and several other people out to a location that advertised a near guarantee for viewing the northern lights.
Two hours later, the word “near” held a lot more weight than when they’d first seen it.
“Last shuttle leaves in ten,” Ziya said, returning their empty thermos to her bag. “We can go now, or we can wait and risk getting honked at by the driver.”
“I’ll risk a honk,” said Amie, shifting in her camping chair. She’d had her eyes glued to the sky as soon as they sat down, occasionally stretching her neck to avoid keeping it in one position for too long.
“I’m sorry,” Ziya said. “I should’ve taken us more north. Or booked the trip earlier in the season. Or—”
Amie took her hand, keeping her eyes on the sky (she wasn’t going to let sentimentality get in the way of her mission). “Z. This was the best trip I’ve ever been on. Thank you.”
Ziya squeezed her hand, her thumb running over the scar on Amie’s palm. “You haven’t actually been on a lot of trips.”
“Okay, well—” Amie stopped, squinting at the sky. “Do you see that?”
“You saw a light?”
“I mean, it’s just …” Amie framed the sky with her hands. “Doesn’t it look kind of pinkish to you?”
Ziya was quiet for a moment. “It’s definitely pinkish,” she confirmed. “And you’re gonna think I’m making this up, but I see a little green, too.”
“No, I see the green.”
They stared at the sky for another few minutes, waiting to see if the whispers of color would grow any louder.
“I think that counts,” Amie said finally.
“Oh, that for sure counts.” Ziya reached over and squeezed Amie’s face between her gloves. “We saw the northern lights!”
Amie echoed her cheer, pulling Ziya into a hug that caused them to topple backward off their chairs and into the snow, screaming with laughter.
They kissed under what may or may not have been the northern lights, it didn’t really matter, until the blare of the shuttle’s horn sent them both scrambling to gather their belongings.
“So now what?” Ziya asked, pulling the strap of her chair over her shoulder. “What’s next?”
Still breathless from the laughter and the kiss and the lights, Amie took Ziya’s gloved hand in hers as they trudged through the snow. The words on her lips filled her with a tingling anticipation—still a little uncomfortable, but not at all unpleasant.
Amie smiled. “I don’t know.”