Chapter 28
The door clicked shut behind them as they stepped into Colin’s place. Only then did Kara let out a forceful breath. Colin carried the stack of folders to the table and set them down between them.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “Let’s see what you found.”
The folders sat open on the table between them, their contents spilling out in uneven stacks—photocopies, grainy photos, typed reports with names blacked out and rewritten in different ink more than once.
Kara sat beside Colin, turning one report after another.
The case had nothing to do with King, the murders, or anything they were currently trying to uncover.
Some of the reports were little more than brief statements and faded notes.
Others were pages of detailed interviews, timelines, evidence logs, and handwritten observations in the margins.
Names she had never heard before appeared again and again, connected by dates and places that meant nothing to her.
Colin worked through another folder, his brow furrowed as he studied each page. Every so often, he stopped to reread something before placing it in a separate pile.
Kara moved on to the photographs.
The first showed an abandoned house surrounded by overgrown grass. Another captured the back of the property, a broken window visible beneath the sagging roof. There were photographs of evidence, tire tracks, discarded clothing, and rooms preserved exactly as investigators had found them.
She turned the next photograph over.
They worked in silence, the only sounds coming from the soft rustle of paper and the occasional scrape of a photograph sliding across the table.
Kara reached for another report and scanned the first page before moving deeper into the file.
There was no connection to their case. No hidden answer waiting.
Something was unsettling about seeing how many lives could be reduced to a folder—photographs, statements, evidence numbers, and a final report stamped closed.
Colin placed another stack beside her. Kara looked at it, then reached for the top file.
Kara stared down at the open file. Her fingers had gone numb, then she realized she was still holding the edge of one page, crumpled slightly from how tightly she’d been gripping it.
Her thoughts scattered in every direction. She couldn't tell whether the cold spreading through her veins came from the room or from the quiet terror creeping up her spine.
Colin had already changed posture—leaning in, elbows on the table, pulling the file closer to him as if it belonged there more than it had belonged with her shaking hands.
“I—I was reading that,” she finally managed.
Colin didn’t look up.
His fingers flipped through the first few pages. Flipped through another, pausing on the page she’d been stuck on.
His eyes slowed.
That was the first change. Kara saw it immediately—the way his jaw tightened slightly, the way his thumb stopped moving against the paper.
King, D. - Deceased. 2008.
The folder looked oddly thin for a homicide. Colin opened it.
Photos. A report. A witness statement — redacted in thick black lines. No arrests. No suspects. Official cause: accidental discharge. Case closed.
He kept reading.
"Minor also found at the scene — Kevin H.
. Fatal gunshot wound. Stray bullet."
"K. Nicholls was seen in the vicinity of King's house at 19:42 by Officer R. James. Around the time of the incident. Unclear if relevant."
Then:
"Unconfirmed: confrontation between King and assailant. Ballistics not logged. File closed under Chief Given's discretion. No further action."
Kara watched as Colin’s hands began to tremble. He turned the page. A note scribbled in ink across the bottom:
Clean this up.
Colin tossed the papers onto the table and backed away slowly from the table like they had caught fire.
“You were there, weren’t you?”
She closed her eyes, tears already rising. “I was scared. I thought I caused it.”
“You knew something.”
Her throat started to burn. “I didn’t know everything at first—”
“But you knew something,” he cut in. “And you didn’t say a damn word.”
She looked away.
“Why, Kara?”
“I saw my father’s car speeding away,” she admitted quickly, the words leaving her mouth in a rush. “I was supposed to drop money off at King's. I panicked and left. When I finally came back, the cops were there covering Kevin's body.”
Colin stood arms crossed, absorbing it all for a moment.
Kara tensed on instinct, every muscle bracing, making herself feel smaller.
“Why didn't you tell me? I keep thinking about every conversation we've had since you got back.
Every time you could have told me. I'm offended.
God, this isn't even about my pride.” He let out a deep sigh.
“It hurts because I care about you, and I’ve been standing right here.
But you never stop to think about what it does to the people who love you.
You don't have to safeguard me from your pain, Kara.”
“I never meant to keep this from you. I just wanted to protect everyone,” she told him, her voice breaking.
"I know why you do it. You convince yourself you're protecting everyone else. That if you keep the weight on your own shoulders, nobody else has to carry it.” Colin shook his head slowly. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
Kara stood then, hugging herself. “I didn’t know how to carry it. I still don’t. You think I’m not struggling with this every day?”
He exhaled, long and heavy. “I wish you trusted me.”
“I didn’t even trust myself then.”
“What about now?”
“Colin—”
The silence stretched between them, thick with everything she hadn’t said. Finally, Colin pushed off the table and moved toward the door.
“I can’t change what happened to you. I hate that I can’t. So don't you dare take away my chance to stand beside you while you figure out what comes next,” he said. “I don’t know what to do with this. George is dead, but Kevin’s parents should know the truth.”
The panic began to ebb.
“What would it do?” she cried. “My father is dead, Colin. Let him stay dead.”
She thought it might ruin George’s name, but that part didn’t matter. It was her name that she was afraid of ruining. She'd been telling herself the same lie for years. That silence kept people safe. It hadn't. It had allowed a man to go free.
If I stay quiet now, I'm still protecting him
Kara swallowed hard, realizing the truth.
She heard the door click shut, and Kara just stood there, staring at the spot where Colin had been.
The lamp illuminated in the corner, its light casting long shadows that seemed to breathe along the walls. Her own heartbeat echoed in her ears, a distant pounding she couldn’t slow down.
Her secret had finally caught up to her, and now Colin carried it too—and the weight in his eyes told her it hit just as hard as she’d feared.
Kevin. She remembered his lopsided smile. His sneakers were too big for his feet. He shouldn’t have even been there that night.
She stood and moved to the window, parting the curtains just enough to look out at the night. Colin would want to tell the truth. People deserved to know. Kevin’s parents deserved closure. Something. It wouldn’t bring Kevin back, but would it repair what was broken in her?
Kara swallowed hard, her fingers shaking as she reached for her phone. A text from Isaac lit up the screen, but she ignored it. She scrolled down instead—until she found Colin’s name.
She wrote four words:
They deserve the truth.
It felt like an earthquake inside her as she pressed send.
Kara walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on her face as if the act could somehow make her feel clean again.
Colin’s reaction replayed in her mind in a loop.
Her outburst about keeping it a secret, but it was time to do what should’ve been done years ago.
? ? ?
She woke up to a note the next morning:
Don't go anywhere. Be back soon. —Colin
She crawled back into bed and drifted off before her thoughts could consume her. When she woke sometime later, the scent of fresh coffee filled the room. Colin's voice reached her through the haze of sleep, warm and familiar, making her heart ache all over again.
Colin handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “Cream and two sugars,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“You okay?” Colin finally asked.
“Not even close.”
“Same.” His face was still sullen from the night before. The tension in his jaw hadn't relaxed, but now, under the morning light, there was something else in his eyes, too—tiredness and something softer.
“You’ve made the right decision. They do deserve to know,” he said, his voice low. “Kevin’s parents. Everyone.”
“I know.”
“They lost their son and were told it was a random tragedy. No one has been held accountable.”
Kara nodded slowly. She didn’t argue. Colin reached for her hand. “Can I?”
She hesitated. Then gave him her hand. His thumb grazed hers.
“This doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
“You don’t even know who I am.”
“I do,” he said. “You got mixed up with King, but it wasn’t for your benefit. You worked two jobs to make sure your sister had everything she needed because your father did jack shit.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“You think that version of you disappeared?” he asked.
“Everything’s changed”.
“I know. But you’re back,” he hesitated, “Back with me”
“For now,” she murmured as she remembered how it was back then, Colin waiting outside the diner for her to finish every shift, who had learned her favorite songs and burned them onto CDs she still kept in her glove compartment.
He carried a much quieter strength; he brought her comfort on the darkest of days.
“I don’t know how to move forward,” she admitted, more to herself than him.
“You don’t have to know anything. You just have to take the next step.”
She looked at their hands—his thumb still gently circling hers—and nodded, then curled into his warmth.
While they were trying to figure out what those next steps were, Colin received a call- an emergency.
It was his staff, and he was needed urgently at the restaurant; she could see the conflict written all over his face: that part of him wanted to stay, to keep watch over her, but his livelihood needed him too.
She smiled and insisted she would be okay until he got back. He eventually gave in and left, promising he would be back as soon as he could. Kara reminded herself and him that she was safe there.
Kara sat alone on the back porch of the house. The sun was dipping low, casting gold across the wooden boards, and the silence around her was thick enough to drown in. In her lap, her phone vibrated again—Isaac.
She let it ring out.
A minute passed before there was another buzz. A voicemail this time. She didn’t listen, already knowing what he’d say.
I’m worried about you. I miss you. Please come home.
She was wrong.
"Don't worry about calling back. I think this is the last message I'll leave."
A strange pressure settled beneath her ribs.
It wasn’t sadness. At least she didn’t think so.
She hadn’t wanted to marry him for months.
Somewhere between wedding plans and the quiet dinner, where they had nothing much to say, she’d been confusing comfort for love. She cared about him. She always would.
What really bothered her wasn’t losing Isaac. It was that he’d let her go. The realization made her skin crawl. Her fear of abandonment was shining in this moment.
With trembling fingers, she finally called him back. He answered on the first ring. “Kara.” His voice was taut with concern, but even from a distance, she heard the edge beneath.
“I’m here,” she said quietly.
“You just stopped answering. And you aren't at the hotel,” he said. “ Are you okay? Are you safe?”
“Yes. I’m safe.”
“Then come home,” he begged. “Please.”
She didn’t answer.
“It’s about him, isn’t it? Fuck, Kara. I knew something was wrong. You were shutting me out, little by little. But I didn’t think—” He stopped himself, voice exasperated. “Is there anything I’m supposed to do to fight for this? Or have you already made up your mind?”
“I didn’t plan any of this,” she said softly. “I swear. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Please don’t do this. What am I supposed to tell my mom?” Isaac asked, his voice strained. “That the life we planned together isn’t happening anymore?”
“You’ve been good to me,” she said. “But I don’t think I ever really let you in, in the way you deserved.”
"What are you talking about?”
“This is the end, Isaac”.
“Kara, don’t do this.”
“I don’t want to lie to you anymore.” Her throat tightened.
A long silence followed. Isaac spoke, voice rough. “I was waiting for you. I won’t beg you to stay where your heart isn’t.”
“I’m so—”
The line went dead.
She hugged her knees and let the tears come, grieving the future she had once imagined with the man whose heart she had just broken.
She had imagined this ending differently. That he was going to fight harder. Show up at her door. Tell her she was making a mistake. Demand that they continue with the wedding. Make choosing him impossible to walk away from.
She was relieved it had ended without a fight, without one last exhausting attempt to convince each other of something they’d both stopped believing.
She couldn’t be sure she’d made the right choice. Her thoughts were reeling, and only time would tell.
The sun had dipped below the ridge of the trees, leaving behind only streaks of burnt orange and lavender across the sky. Crickets stirred in the brush. The world carried on, uncaring, and that somehow made it worse.
Isaac had been safe. Never tried to control her. He gave her space, even when he didn’t understand why she needed it. And for a time, that was everything she thought she wanted.
But what she couldn’t say was that his kindness had started to feel like a mirror she couldn’t bear to look into.
He loved a version of herself that didn’t really exist. She had tried to give him the kind of love that could grow.
But what she had with Isaac wasn’t rooted in anything real.
It was an escape. It was comfortable. It was quiet—but not the kind that ever made her feel whole.
She thought about Colin.
The way he looked at her like he still saw who she used to be—and who she was now. The clench in his jaw when he’d seen the threat she’d kept to herself. The way he reacted came from a place of love. It terrified her to feel this way.
Not just what they could become, but what she’d have to confront to get there.
She exhaled, but it didn’t steady her. Something was still there, coiled in her gut. She didn’t regret telling Isaac the truth and closing that chapter, but she regretted how long she waited. Silence can masquerade as mercy, when in reality it’s just fear.
She had to let him go.
Now she had to learn how to live with that.