Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“Good morning.”
I turn toward Colten’s sleepy voice. His messy hair and big yawn stand a few feet behind me with a blanket tied around his waist.
“Colten …” I whisper. “I’m so very sorry.” My gaze affixes to his chest. He looks like a cat attacked him. A big, mean cat. Deep scratches. Speckled areas of dried blood. I curl my fingers and inspect my nails. They’re dark with dried blood as well. When I hug my chest, I feel the rough patches on the back of my arms that probably look like a raked garden as well.
He doesn’t make a single glance at his chest. Instead, he shrugs. “It’s fine.” He takes a step forward.
I stiffen as he kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Colten …”
“My love,” he says adoringly, almost playfully while making his own cup of coffee.
I flinch when he turns his back to me. It matches his chest. I did that. I hurt him. Marked him. And I did it all in the name of feeling. Only … I didn’t feel it. But I’m sure he did because he’s a normal person with real feelings.
“Colten …” I gently splay my palms and my cheek against his back. Closing my eyes, I whisper, “I’m unwell. You have to protect yourself … protect your daughter.”
“Hey, no.” He turns, framing my face in his strong, protective, loving hands.
What did he do to deserve me? Wasn’t having an awful dad enough?
“Baby, what are you talking about? It’s a few marks. They’ll heal. I’m okay. Do you hear me?” Colten shakes his head. “And what are you talking about protecting Reagan? Protect her from what?”
Me.
“Josie, what happened in California?”
I lean into his touch and close my eyes. “I have to tell you something,” I whisper. “And it’s going to change everything. And I need you to promise me that you will walk away like you did seventeen years ago.”
“Josie—”
I open my eyes. “Promise me you’ll remember that your life has so much purpose and meaning. You have a beautiful daughter. And your mom and brother. A job you love. You have everything, Colten. And you had it without me.”
“No.” He shakes his head, eyes narrowing while his grip on my face tightens. “I’m not promising you anything of the sort. What the hell happened?”
His anger pulls a few tears from my eyes. I welcome them. I welcome any sign of human emotion. “The visions, the memories … they’re not from one of the girls.”
Colten nods. “Okay.”
“I was him.” I bite my shaky lower lip. The ugliness of the truth burns in my chest … in my soul. My fucking awful soul.
“Who?”
“Winston Jeffries.”
Colten blinks a few times before his hands drop to his sides. In an unexpected twist, he laughs.
Laughs!
Fist at his mouth, hand over his belly laugh. “No.” He snorts. “That’s an interesting take on all of this, but … no.”
“I don’t want to believe it either, but—”
“Good.” He grabs my shoulders and lowers his face level with mine. “Whoever put that shit in your head is mental. You absolutely should not believe them. Josephine Watts, you are way too smart to do anything short of what I’m doing.” He laughs some more. “It’s beyond ridiculous. It’s laughable. You see that, right?”
I can’t laugh. It’s not in me. No smiles either. I find none of this amusing.
“I never see the person who did it because I’m seeing it through his eyes. I wouldn’t have memories of him burying my dead body. I wouldn’t have memories of times that he buried other bodies at different cemeteries, but I do, Colten. The only explanation is that I was him. A …”
A serial killer.
I can’t say the words. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say them.
Colten’s head stays on an endless swivel like it’s running on batteries. Back and forth. He can shake his head until it breaks from his neck. It won’t change anything. God, I wish it could.
“I need you to let me be Dr. Josephine Watts, Medical Examiner. Our paths will cross with work. That’s it. I can’t marry you. I can’t be your friend. I can’t be anything to you.”
His gaze shifts from me to the window, and he squints just as the sun catches his eyes. “I think we should have a small family-only ceremony in January. After the holidays. We’ll take a week and honeymoon in Costa Rica or Ecuador. We’ll rent a little place near a beach. Sun. Tropical food. Lazy mornings in bed. I’ll book us massages and maybe a rainforest tour. It will be perfect.” The only thing that’s perfect is his smile. It’s perfectly heartbreaking.
“Also, did I mention we found the motherlode of evidence for your favorite chainsaw killer? We had enough for an arrest, but the conviction will be a slam dunk now. He had an underground storm shelter. We must have passed it a hundred times because it was covered in brush and grass. Then Rains heard something squeak under him. I don’t think we would have otherwise found it. Isn’t that crazy? The saw we confiscated before the arrest wasn’t on his property, but it had his prints. Before he lawyered up, he said he found it in a dumpster—he does work for a sanitation company, so it wasn’t implausible. But there was blood all over it, so why would he salvage it and put it in the back of his truck?”