“A version of suicide by cop,” Alex murmured. Kiko was already back. This time, D.D. got the ball. She did her best.
“Sad,” she commented now. “He was just a kid, not to mention as much a victim as Roxy and Lola in all of this. I think he really did believe he was doing what had to be done to save Roxy. That her family, far from being a support for her, was more like an anchor, dragging her down.”
“Tough.”
“Yeah. And too harsh. Because Juanita Baez might’ve made her mistakes, but she really was on the right track. And she was fighting for her girls. Had she gotten a little further with her own investigations, maybe her lawyer would’ve been able to put together a case, and real justice would have been served.”
“Kids don’t think of adults that way,” Alex said. “Especially not teenagers.”
Kiko whined. Alex got busy.
“Shooting Roberto,” D.D. listed off, “then murdering Roxy’s entire family before going after Hector, who’d once abandoned her, and taking on Las Niñas Diablas, who’d threatened her. So many wrongs done in the name of right. Poor kid. Mother Del volunteered to pay for his funeral.”
Alex slid her a look. “Least the woman could do.”
“Exactly.”
“And Roxy?” he asked.
Kiko was back. D.D.’s turn again. She didn’t have her husband’s arm, but she did have her son’s enthusiasm. Who could’ve known this was exactly what she’d needed: Alex, Jack, and now the best spotted dog in all the land?
“Roxy and her dogs have moved in with Hector, believe it or not. I think they’ll all help each other heal. And she does still have Flora and Sarah. I’m not sure what I think of this merry band of survivors. And yet, after everything Roxy has been through, I’m grateful she has that kind of support. Certainly, I can’t imagine being in her shoes right now and facing everything alone.”
“So Flora Dane really is useful?”
“On occasion,” D.D. granted.
“And Phil and Neil?”
“They’ll come around,” she stated, not convincingly.
Alex grinned at her. “Just what you need, a little more chaos in your life.”
“Actually,” she said, as Kiko once again returned with her prize, “I think I’m handling this chaos just fine.”
“And working with a vigilante won’t rub off on you at all?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” D.D. winked at her husband, then launched another tennis ball into the air.
• • •
I FOUND SARAH ALMOST EXACTLY where I expected to: standing inside the historic college square, staring straight ahead at some Gothic monstrosity that must’ve cost a fortune to build in its day and had lasted the centuries since. Wearing a brown leather jacket, Sarah had her arms wrapped tight around her waist and was eyeing the collection of buildings with grim determination.
“I’m going to do it,” she said when I walked up, never taking her gaze off the college hall.
“Okay.”
“It’s like getting back on the horse, right? Everyone’s gotta do it sometime.”
“If you say so.”
“Besides, it’s not like I was attacked on campus. There’s nothing in these classrooms, the library, that should trigger me. Cramped apartments, sure. Roommates, fine. But I have my own studio place now. Not exactly close to here, but that’s okay. Long bus rides, T transfers, are a small price to pay for peace of mind.”
“I would keep your apartment,” I agreed. “It’s your safe zone.” Then I added: “For now.”
She finally looked at me. “Do you think I can do this?”
“I think you’re not the person I met a year ago. I think you’ve already proven you can do most anything.”
Her face collapsed a little, her eyes growing a sheen. “Flora, I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been standing here thirty minutes already. One step. Then another. I need to take them. And yet . . .”
“It’s okay to be scared, Sarah. You, of all people, know how scary the world really is.”
“What if I do it,” she said abruptly, “and it’s not so hard. I graduate. I get a job. I fall in love. I’m happy. What then?”
“Then I think your roommates will be very proud of you.”
She started crying, silent tears rolling down her face. “I’m scared,” she said again.
“I know.”
“Why haven’t you done it? Gone back to school? Something.”
“I am doing something.” I shrugged, tugged her hand away from her waist till I was holding it. “I’m doing this. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but it works for me. Besides, I’ll have you know I’m now a bona fide member of law enforcement, a confidential informant for the esteemed Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren, no less.”
Sarah rolled her eyes at me. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I like it. It’s another way to help. It’s another way . . .” To not be locked in a coffin-sized box all alone anymore. I didn’t say those words out loud, but Sarah nodded, as if she understood. One survivor to another, I bet she did.
“Show me your hands!” she ordered.
I dropped my grip on hers long enough to hold out both palms.
“You’re not wearing a bandage anymore.”
“I’m taking some steps of my own.”
She regarded me somberly. “If I do this, move forward, we won’t see each other so often.”
“I’ll be your friend for as long as you’d like,” I said. But I knew what she meant. Our relationship was more teacher to student. Me, showing the ropes of the whole survival business; her, learning how to thrive again. Which, if she continued on this path, would be mission accomplished. “Know this, I’ll be the one cheering the loudest at your graduation.”
More tears. I started to feel my own eyes well, which surprised me. Four hundred and seventy-two days later, I often felt I had no tears left. And yet this emotion didn’t feel so bad. It felt . . . right. Pride in my friend, and her own bravery, and a job well done.
“Roxy?” she asked now.
“Sadly, our group never runs out of members.”
“But you’ll be there for her.” A statement, not a question.
“You will, too.”
“I’ll do my best. But you know, going back to school . . .”
“Roxy will be okay. You’ve been there. You know what it’s like. She’s not magically going to feel better today or tomorrow, but day after day after day . . . Before we know it, she’ll be standing on a college campus of her own. She’s too bright, too determined, to do any less.”
Sarah took a deep breath. She held out her hand on her own now.
I smiled. Took it. Gave it a squeeze.
“Together?” she asked.
“Absolutely. On the count of three. One, two—” I tugged her forward before she expected it, catching her off balance and forcing her to advance. She laughed, a little breathlessly, and just like that we were crossing the college green.
I thought again of that first night. The scared young woman standing in her apartment, covered in sweat, armed with bear spray, that wild look in her eyes. And I saw Sarah now, composed, chin up, as she strode forward.
Here was the truth of my life: If Jacob Ness had never kidnapped me, I would never have known what it was like to be starved and terrified and abused and isolated. Yet if Jacob had never grabbed me, I would never have had this moment either. Helping this person. And having this day when all felt right.
Was it enough? A gain worth the price? Or did it matter? Because the price had already been paid. At least I’d been able to find this path, make this life from the ruins. And maybe that was the best any of us could do.
“Thank you, Flora,” Sarah was saying.
I shook my head. “No, thank you.??
?
Epilogue
Name: Roxanna Baez
Grade: 11
Teacher: Mrs. Chula
Category: Personal Narrative
What Is the Perfect Family? Part VIII, Final Installment
This is my family:
I had a mom, Juanita Baez. When I was first born, I was all she had. No husband, no boyfriend to write in on the birth certificate. Just her and me. I like to think she held me close. I like to think she loved me very much, and the first time she heard me cry, she promised me the world, the stars, the moon at night.
I know later she would break that promise. But I know after that, she did everything in her power to make it right. And that’s love, yes? Not being perfect, but working hard to fix your mistakes.
I had a mom, Juanita Baez, and she loved me.
I had a sister, Lola Baez. I was three years old when she was born. I remember my mother bringing her home from the hospital and letting me hold her on the sofa. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. And I promised her then, from the bottom of my three-year-old heart, that I would give her the world, the stars, the moon at night.
I worked hard to keep that promise. But like my mom, I made some mistakes. And my beautiful little sister, she made some mistakes of her own. She chose to fall when she could’ve chosen to rise. She chose hate when she could’ve chosen love. She chose not to believe in our family at all, but to take up with some gang in our place.
But when violence came into our home, when she knew what was going to happen next, she also chose to take our little brother into her arms. She held him close. She tucked his face against her chest so he would not have to see his own death.
In that instant, she chose our family again. And she was the sister and daughter we all knew she could be. And that’s love, yes? Not making all the right decisions all the time, but being there when it matters the most.
I had a sister, Lola Baez, and I know she loved me.
I had a brother, Manny Baez. I was seven years old when my mother brought him home, and I was already scared for him. My mother liked to drink a lot by then. Her new boyfriend, Hector, drank as well. I took care of my little sister, and now I would have this baby, too. But the first time Manny gripped my finger with his tiny hand and looked at me with those dark eyes, I knew I would love him forever, and I promised him the world, the stars, the moon at night.
In return, Manny offered smiles and laughs and pure joy from the bottom of his little-boy heart. He was the light of our lives, and nothing that happened next ever dimmed the strength of his devotion to us.
And that’s love, yes? To give generously, selflessly, endlessly. Manny didn’t have to learn any lessons during his nine years with us. He was our teacher instead. A reminder of what the rest of us could achieve, if only we could open up.
I had a brother, Manny Baez, and he loved me so, so much.
I had a friend, Mike Davis. We met when we were eleven. He saw me when no else did. He tried to help me when no one else could. He called me a bright, bright light when I have only ever felt like the ugly stepsister, lost in the shadows.
He would’ve loved me, but I never let him.
He killed for me. He took away the boy who once hurt my sister and me. But he also took away the family who loved me.
He died for me. Opening his mouth, drinking in the pepper spray. The boy with no parents, the boy who’d always been alone, he didn’t believe I would forgive him. He didn’t understand that I, of all people, know love is imperfect, and it’s the trying that matters.
I had a friend, Mike Davis, and I killed him.
I have two dogs, Rosie and Blaze. They are old and blind and prefer long days spent napping in sunbeams. They thump their tails when I approach. They rest their heads on my lap and let me stroke their long silky ears. They provide solace on the days I can do nothing but cry. They give me strength, because I know they remember our family, and miss them, too.
I have friends. Flora, Sarah. I am still getting to know them. They understand pain and loss. They tell me I won’t always feel like this. They remind me that I have the strength to survive. They promise that one day I will learn to live again. They have introduced me to other people who know what it’s like to not be able to sleep at night. And sometimes, talking with all these other crazies, I feel almost sane again.
I have a guardian, Hector Alvalos. Manny’s father, my mother’s former boyfriend. He lived with us when Manny was born, and once he was the closest thing to a father I’d ever had. He had to go off to fight his own demons for a while. And yes, he’s made his share of mistakes.
But he came back. And that’s love, yes? He returned for Manny, and to make peace with my mom, and to get to know my sister and me again. Now, he and I are family. We live in his little apartment with Rosie and Blaze and so many pictures on the wall. Manny when he was first born. My mother twirling happily in her new red dress, the day she brought us home from the courthouse. Lola rolling her eyes at something silly. All of us piled together on a sofa.
Captured moments to help Hector and me through the bad nights. Frozen images to remind us of the good times.
These photos of our perfect family.
Acknowledgments
People always ask me about where I live. Yes, it is a small New England town in the mountains of New Hampshire, with a red covered bridge, white steepled church, and stunning views. Postcard perfect, I believe is the term. It’s also filled with some of the nicest, most interesting people on the planet, and for the making of this novel, I’m indebted to quite a few of them.
First off, Darlene Ference. After retiring from teaching, she decided to get involved with CASA as an advocate for children. Then she made the mistake of telling me all about it at a neighborhood barbecue. I’ve always been fascinated by CASA and the great work the volunteers do on behalf of kids. Immediately, I wanted to understand more, which, of course, led to this novel. Roxy’s story is entirely fictional and not based on any particular case, and yet much of what happens to her family isn’t atypical. My deepest appreciation to Darlene for sharing her experiences, and to all the CASA volunteers for their hard work and dedication. Please know that any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Next up, Lieutenant Michael Santuccio with the Carroll County Sheriff’s Office. Over the years, Lieutenant Santuccio has become adept at handling my numerous and often bizarre texts. Hey, would you consider a missing teen a suspect or a victim? Would you launch a search for missing dogs? And of course: If you wanted to stage a shooting to look like a suicide, what would you do? Thank you, Lieutenant Santuccio, for once again helping make my fictional crimes sharper and, of course, enabling Sergeant Detective D. D. Warren to always get her man. Again, any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
My deepest gratitude to Dave and Jeanne Mason. At a fund-raiser to support our local animal shelter, they bid high and bid often to win the right to have their Brittany spaniels, Blaze and Rosie, included in this novel. Both rescues, the dogs are now living out their days in canine bliss with two of the nicest people. Thank you, Dave and Jeanne, for all you do for our community. And, Rosie and Blaze, congrats again on your forever home.
Which brings us to Kiko, D. D. Warren’s new dog. The best spotted dog in all the land, Kiko was the beloved pup of Conway Area Humane Society’s executive director, Virginia Moore, and her partner, Brenda Donnelly. Sadly, Kiko passed away last year, but tales of her love, loyalty, and mischievousness live on. Virginia and Brenda, hope you enjoy Kiko’s new adventures in fiction.
Locals will also recognize the name of coffee barista Lynda Schuepp. Thank you, Lynda, for your support of our local child service agency, Children Unlimited, Inc., and hope you feel the buzz.
Some readers may have recognized the name Anya Seton, who in real life was one of the great Gothic novelists and one of my all-time favorite authors. Yes, th
is was my homage to a brilliant writer. For those of you unfamiliar with her works, I highly recommend Green Darkness.
In the just-for-fun department, congratulations to Kaytlyn Krogman, winner of the Kill a Friend, Maim a Buddy Sweepstakes at LisaGardner .com. She won the right to have her mother, Tricia Lobdell Cass, included in this novel. Also, Heidi Raepuro is the winner of the international edition, Kill a Friend, Maim a Mate, choosing her own grand end. The contest is always a huge hit. Hope you all love the book!
The idea of bringing back Flora Dane was first proposed by my former editor, Ben Sevier. He then went on to a new position, leaving me and my new editor, Mark Tavani, to see it through. Thank you for your years of brilliance, Ben. And thank you, Mark, for effortlessly taking over the reins. May this be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
On the other side of the pond, I was equally sad to lose longtime British editor Vicki Mellor. But I look forward to working with Selina Walker, whose brilliant comments definitely helped make this a better book.
Closer to home, thank you to my proofreading crew. Yes, all those mistakes really were mine. Again! Thanks for making me look good. And to my beautiful daughter who’s now become my brainstorming partner, plot fixer, and overall partner in crime. An avid reader, she’s an excellent in-house editor. Thanks, love.
Finally, to the real-life Mike Davis. As the school counselor says, what everyone needs to survive high school is that one person who has your back.
About the Author
Lisa Gardner is the number one New York Times bestselling author of nineteen previous novels, including her most recent, Right Behind You. Her Detective D. D. Warren novels include Find Her, Fear Nothing, Catch Me, Love You More, and The Neighbor, which won the International Thriller of the Year Award. She also received the 2016 Silver Bullet award from the International Thriller Writers for her work with at-risk children and homeless animals. She lives with her family in New England.