Page 2 of Darkwater Lane

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GWEN

Three Months Later

Sometimes, I think of the woman I used to be and laugh. Gina Royal was naïve, compliant, boring. She had dinner on the table by six, never talked back, and kept the house clean and in order. Except for the garage, of course, that was my ex-husband Melvin’s domain and strictly off-limits to me and our two kids.

Gina Royal was also afraid of guns. A fact that I find laughable now—especially given that shooting has become its own form of therapy over the years.

When I’m shooting, it commands my entire focus. I’m able to forget about everything but the feel of the grip against my palm, the balance of my feet on the floor, the shifting of my weight, the tension of the trigger under my finger, and the coiling explosion that ricochets through my body after the firing pin strikes the primer, igniting the powder and forcing the bullet out of the cartridge and toward the target downrange at a rate of twelve hundred feet per second.

It’s only after the last bullet is fired and the slide locks back that the rest of the world comes flooding in. I notice the slight draft of air across my skin from the negative pressure pulling gun smoke downrange. I hear the deepwhumpof someone shooting a 460 Magnum in another range bay, even through my ear protection.

My thoughts return as well, despite my best efforts to shut them out. The first episode of the Royal Murders dropped today—a new podcast about my serial killer ex-husband, Melvin Royal. I’ve been expecting it—they’ve been advertising it for weeks.

Against my better judgement, I listened to it the first chance I got.

Now, I regret that decision. Snippets keep playing through my head over and over as I secure a new target to the clips and send it downrange before methodically reloading the magazine.

The first episode focused on Melvin’s last victim: Callie Applegate, the woman I’d seen hanging mutilated in my garage. It was gutting. The co-hosts, Madison Westcott and Rowan Applegate, walked listeners through Callie’s early life, from being separated from her brother after their parents died, leaving them orphans, to Callie being adopted by the Applegate family and growing up with her sister, Rowan.

It’s the interview with Rowan that keeps repeating in my head. Madison had asked Rowan who she blamed for Callie’s murder. There’d been no hesitation before she said, “Melvin and Gina Royal.”

Madison: You blame Melvin’s wife, Gina, as well?

Rowan: Absolutely. There’s no question Gina Royal was involved in my sister’s murder.

Madison: Even though she’s been tried for it and acquitted?

Rowan: Juries can get things wrong. There was evidence thejudge excluded. Had the jury been able to see everything, they would have convicted.

Madison: Evidence like what?

Rowan: Conversations she had with a therapist while she was in jail.

Madison: But you understand why those wouldn’t be admissible.

Rowan: I’m just saying, the jury didn’t have the full story.

Madison: You have a family connection to Gina Royal, don’t you?

Rowan: She’s not family. But yes, there’s a connection. Callie had a biological brother named Sam. They were separated as kids, but Callie found him as an adult and reached out to him. They were reestablishing their relationship when she was killed. Sam Cade is, in everything but name, married to Gina Royal and has adopted Melvin’s children, Brady and Lily. Though they’ve all changed their names. Gina goes by Gwen Proctor now. They’re all living in Knoxville like some normal, happy family.

Madison: How do you feel about that?

Rowan: It’s disgusting. It’s horrifically disrespectful to Callie and her memory. I mean, my God, he’s sleeping with the woman who murdered his sister! His own flesh and blood. She was found strung up in Gina’s garage for [bleep] sake. How can you even explain something like that?

With a sharp exhale, I lift the gun, adjust my grip, and line up my shot before pulling the trigger, finally silencing the podcast looping through my thoughts.

There’s a shift in air pressure when the door to the range opens, and I know without looking who it is. Everything about Sam Cade is as familiar to me as my own body. I keep pulling the trigger, my focus on the target but my situational awareness paying keen attentionas Sam ambles to the shooting lane next to me and stops to wait while I continue. I make my way through the magazine, barely pausing between trigger pulls.

When the clip empties, I sigh as the world around me floods back in once again. I set the gun down, ejection port facing up and muzzle pointed downrange.

“I take it you listened to the podcast,” Sam says without preamble. He raises his voice to be heard through my ear protection.

“How did you find me?” I ask by way of answering.

“Where else would you be? This is where you go when you’re upset and need to work things out.”

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