Epilogue
Sean sat beside Grace in the Labor and Delivery waiting room at the hospital in Little Creek, Virginia, his hand wrapped around hers as they waited with Bonnie and Dan for the newest Malone to make her debut.
Moriah had been in labor for nine hours. Nine long hours, and still no sign of the next generation of Malones.
She’d woken KC at four that morning, and his frantic text had gone out soon after. By the time Sean and Grace joined the family convoy heading north, the sun had barely climbed over the horizon. They’d arrived just after nine.
Now it was after one. And they were still waiting.
Sean’s thumb brushed across the back of Grace’s hand, his touch almost constant these past three days.
Since pulling her from George Wallace’s makeshift torture room, he’d found himself reaching for her without thinking—his hand on her shoulder, his fingers threaded through hers, or his arm around her waist whenever she stood close enough.
He needed the contact, the reassurance that she was here. Alive. Safe.
Even now, with her seated beside him in the waiting room, some part of him still expected to wake from the nightmare and find himself racing toward that house again, praying he wasn’t too late.
The television mounted in the corner droned through a local news segment, but Sean barely heard it. His mind drifted to the case and everything they’d uncovered since Wallace’s death.
Grace’s account of what the man had said, combined with the evidence recovered from his upstairs lair and the background investigation Philadelphia PD had pieced together, had painted a grim picture of how George Wallace became what he was.
The man had grown up in one of Philadelphia’s roughest neighborhoods. His mother had bounced in and out of jail while George cycled through temporary foster placements. Every report suggested the system had failed him. Time after time, he’d been returned to her despite clear evidence of neglect.
Then there was 1993.
Wanda Wallace’s murder had gone unsolved for years, investigators assuming some client or drug associate had killed her.
Now the truth was obvious. The method matched. The scarf around her neck. The coins scattered around her body.
Through Grace’s interview with Suki, they’d finally understood the significance of the pennies Wallace left with each victim. For reasons buried somewhere deep inside his fractured mind, he’d fixated on them. Suki believed it was because pennies were worth the least.
Sean glanced at Grace. The memory of her sitting across from Suki during that interview flickered through his mind. She’d been composed, thoughtful, and determined to help, but he’d seen the shadows beneath her eyes and the way her fingers trembled when she thought no one was watching.
The nightmares still came. Almost every night, she’d jerk awake gasping, her body rigid with fear until he gathered her close and reminded her she was safe.
He hated that Wallace still had that kind of hold on her even from the grave.
Suki’s profile suggested Wallace had stopped killing for a period because inheriting his aunt’s money and house had offered the illusion of a fresh start. But the compulsion had remained beneath the surface, waiting.
Eventually, it reemerged.
His aunt’s lawyer had come forward after the arrest made the news, explaining Susan Wallace had left instructions in her will to locate her nephew after her death.
Sean shifted his attention to Bonnie and Dan across from them. Like him and Grace, they sat hand in hand, and the sight made him smile. It had taken them long enough.
Watching the quiet affection pass between them, Sean felt a certainty about his own future. He was going to ask Grace to marry him.
Not yet.
First, she needed time to heal.
Matt Griffin had connected them with the psychologist his department used for deputies involved in shootings or traumatic calls. Grace had met with the woman yesterday and, to Sean’s relief, felt comfortable enough to keep going. Three one-hour sessions a week for the next month.
It was a start.
At the clinic, Tim was doing everything he could to keep things afloat in Grace’s absence. With her blessing, he’d brought in another therapist he’d known for years to help for the next week. If it worked out, Grace planned to hire her part-time.
Sean’s own boss had insisted he take the rest of his vacation time after the case officially closed. He hadn’t hesitated. Right now, there was nowhere else he needed to be.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and Sean looked up as Brian entered, carrying several deli bags. Sean’s stomach growled—he was hungrier than he thought.
His brother had barely started handing out sandwiches when KC stuck his head through the doorway, his face split by the widest grin Sean had ever seen. “Anyone want to meet little Megan Malone?”
Bonnie and Grace answered at once. “Yes!”
Everyone rose as KC stepped into the room, cradling his daughter against his chest. Wrapped in a pink blanket with a matching knit cap pulled over her tiny head, she looked impossibly small.
Sean had spent his career facing killers without flinching. The sight of his newborn niece almost undid him.
“She came out healthy and screaming at the top of her lungs,” KC said, pride pouring through every word. “I can only keep her out here for a minute.”
“She’s beautiful, KC,” Bonnie said, her voice catching.
“Adorable,” Grace added, her eyes shining.
KC turned toward their uncle. “We’d like you to be her godfather.”
Emotion washed across Dan’s face, and he swallowed hard before nodding. “I’d be honored, son.”
Then KC looked to Bonnie. “That means you’re going to be her godmother.”
The older woman let out a delighted squeal that made little Megan twitch before she yawned, the tiny motion somehow bigger than seemed possible for someone so small. “Oh, I’d love to, KC!”
Sean stepped forward and clapped his brother on the back, his gaze fixed on the baby’s button nose and impossibly tiny fingers. “You did good, brother. You and Moriah did really good. Congratulations.”
Later that night, Dan walked hand in hand with Bonnie along the quiet stretch of beach behind his house.
The tide rolled in with a steady rhythm, waves folding over themselves before hissing across the sand.
A soft breeze carried the familiar scent of salt and sea grass, and overhead the sky stretched clear and dark, scattered with stars.
It had been a good day. A long one, but good.
After everything the family had endured these past weeks—the fear, the grief, and the tension that had wrapped itself around all of them like a vice—it felt as if the world had finally exhaled.
Little Megan’s arrival had brought something precious with her—peace.
Watching his family gathered in that hospital waiting room and seeing the joy on KC’s face as he held his daughter had filled Dan with a deep sense of rightness.
Beside them, Jinx trotted ahead, his nose to the sand as he investigated every crab, clump of seaweed, and shell he came across. Every now and then, he’d pause to paw at something before deciding it wasn’t worth his attention and moving on.
Dan smiled. Some things never changed.
His gaze drifted upward as they walked, and a sudden streak of light flashed across the sky. He stopped. “Look. A shooting star.”
Bonnie followed his line of sight, and her expression softened. “It must be Annie saying hello.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to?”
A quiet chuckle rumbled through him. Last year, after KC and Moriah had found each other, he’d come down to this same beach and looked up at the stars, certain Annie had been somewhere above, watching over the boys she would’ve loved as fiercely as he did.
He’d thanked her then for helping nudge KC toward his future.
Tonight felt no different.
“I told her last time. You can tell her this time.”
Bonnie tipped her face toward the heavens, her silver hair catching the moonlight. “Another one of the boys is in love, Annie. Now we have to find Brian’s happily-ever-after.”
Dan laughed and gave her hand a fond squeeze.
Poor Brian. The boy didn’t stand a chance.
Not with Annie looking down from above and Bonnie Whitman standing beside him, already plotting.
Somewhere out there, whether she knew it yet or not, the woman meant for his bachelor nephew was living her life, blissfully unaware that a few determined matchmakers—two on earth and one in heaven—were preparing to upend it.
And if Dan knew Annie at all, she was probably smiling.
The Whisper Softly series continues on July 16, 2026, with Seaside Secrets.