Epilogue Ken
Epilogue
Ken
Ken was in a foul mood when he pushed through the front door of his efficiency apartment.
He’d had a hell of a day in court. He’d gained bail and had a good defense against the criminal charges against him, but his lawyers would bleed him dry.
His law firm had dropped him. Long-standing clients, too.
Still, he’d make a comeback. No one could prove anything. Pete’s death—that was self-defense. As soon as he beat the other charges, he’d stage his return. Clients going forward might not be as reputable, but the money would still be green.
The furnished apartment was small—one bedroom, a kitchenette, bathroom. Not much. But one he could afford until his accounts were unfrozen.
He uncorked yesterday’s bottle of red and loosened his tie. He filled a large glass and took a liberal sip. The woodsy, oaky flavor tasted good and eased the edge off his nerves. He took off his jacket, draped it over a chair, unfastened his cuffs, and rolled them up.
Too warm. The room was warm. He crossed to the thermostat. Had he left it on high this morning?
He ignored it, sipped more wine, and scrolled his phone. He found the number for the Italian restaurant that delivered. He sat on the used couch and called in an order for pasta with extra meat sauce and garlic bread.
As he stared out the window toward the small, enclosed patio, he imagined the stars in the endless sky over Hale House. It could still be his. If he played his cards right.
His vision blurred. He blinked it away.
The stress was getting to him. An ankle monitor meant no Caribbean vacations, but a spa day would ease the tension. Another sip.
His head spun, and his breathing hitched. Again, his vision went out of focus.
He set his glass down on the coffee table.
Suddenly, his heart jackhammered against his sternum. His phone slipped from his hand. He fell back and sucked in a breath. His windpipe had constricted to the size of a straw.
The muscles in his neck tightened. His breathing became more labored.
Fuck.
What was happening?
Panic flared. Poison. Had Maria reached from the grave and attacked him?
He lurched forward and, through a blur, searched for his phone. As his fingers skimmed it, a booted foot kicked it away.
Ken looked up. He barely registered the face when another spasm gripped his belly. Edith.
“It won’t take long,” Edith said.
“How?” His voice was garbled and almost unrecognizable.
“It wasn’t just Maria,” she said.
She carried the glass to the kitchen sink. Carefully, she washed it out, dried it, and replaced it in the cabinet. She put the corked bottle in a bag.
He tried to speak, but his tongue felt thick, useless.
“Maria was clever. But I saw how she looked at Gabe. Such hate. She wanted him dead. I didn’t think she’d do it. But she surprised me. And Amy. She had it coming after the attic fire with Molly.”
“No.” The word rasped from him.
Edith wiped the counter with gloved hands. “I’m sorry about Gabe. But my son, God love him, would’ve spent the rest of his life screwing things up. He’s in a better place now. They all are. And Molly is safe. With Raine.”
He pushed against the cushions but couldn’t rise.
“Raine was right. Prison won’t hold you. I can’t risk you getting near Molly. Don’t worry, you’ll be in a better place soon.” She laid a computer-printed note on the coffee table. “Your explanation to the world.”
His muscles slackened. His body was betraying him. “No.”
“Your death will look like a suicide.” She packed up the dish towel. “People will say you cracked under the pressure. That it finally caught up to you.”
She removed a stack of cash from her bag and placed his hand on the top bills.
She tucked them in an end table drawer. Out of sight.
But easy to find when the apartment was processed.
She also brushed his fingers against the note.
“From Gabe’s hiding space. The money he took out of his account with Maria.
Physical evidence. Raine says it and a note helps close cases.
Your fingerprints are all over these now. ”
He tried to lift a hand, to clench a fist, but no muscle answered.
“Raine isn’t perfect, but she’s good for Molly. The child is thriving. Calmer than I’ve seen her in years. I don’t want that ever ruined.” She nudged the phone just out of his reach. “Goodbye, Ken.”
The world narrowed. Darkness closed in. The last thing he heard was his front door opening. Footsteps toward him. Through the haze he saw Edith. And her.
Raine.
Neither smiled. Grim determination.
“We need to go,” Raine said.
“Another second.”
And as he slipped away, he heard Raine say, “He’s finished.”