Page 7 of Darkwater Lane

I’m up before sunrise the next morning. I can’t help it. Despite falling into a blissful, dreamless sleep in Sam’s arms, my brain refuses to turn off for long. Snippets fromThe Royal Murderspodcast replay in my head, my heart rate spiking as my outrage and resentment grow.

I close my eyes, running through the exercises my therapist gave me to help me learn to let go. To accept that some things are beyond my control. To move on and let the past stay in the past.

It’s all bullshit. How am I supposed to leave the past behind when it’s an angry mob at my door, pitchforks gleaming, and torches burning?

With a snap of the sheets, I push out of bed and yank on clothes. My first stop is the kitchen to fortify myself with coffee. Steaming mug in hand, I tiptoe down the hallway to my office and close the door.

Even as I’m firing up my computer, I remember my promise to Lanny and the rest of my family. We agreed to no longer live in fear. We promised we’d move on. That promise included me abandoning Sicko Patrol.

Sicko Patrol had begun as an exercise in self-preservation. It was a way to sort through the vitriol against us online and find those threats that might actually be credible. Back then, we were still anonymous and on the run, and it was critical to keep tabs on whether any of the self-styled vigilantes were close to figuring out where we were. More than once some obsessed fan of Melvin’s had gotten too close and we’d had to pick up and run, leaving schools, friends, and even our names behind.

I tried to give up Sicko Patrol. I really, really did. It just wasn’t that easy. Knowing there are people out there targeting those I love is like having an itch under my skin that I can’t scratch.

Sicko Patrol scratched that itch. Even if it was an illusion of control, it gave me something.

I started to resume Sicko Patrol in secret. Early in the mornings when everyone was asleep or during the day when I was the only one home. The relief I felt that first time nearly made me ill. It was proof that somehow I’d become addicted to tracing these trolls on the internet.

I still didn’t stop. I hated lying to my family, but I assuaged my guilt by telling myself I was being vigilant.

It’s part of who I am now—who Melvin made me.

The moment I open my email, I almost choke on the number of messages. Usually, only the hardcore conspiracy theorists take the energy to connect Gina Royal to Gwen Proctor and track down my personal email address. But thanks to Rowan Applegate and Madison Westcott doxing me onThe Royal Murders, they’ve made it easy.

It’s going to take hours to sort through. I check the clock, wondering how much I can get done before Sam or the kids wake up.

Swallowing a mouthful of coffee, not caring that it scorches the back of my throat, I click on the first message. It’s a fairly standard screed about what a terrible human being I am and how my kidsare spawns of the devil. I barely bother skimming through it before deleting it. There are the usual threats and some truly disturbing photos clearly created using artificial intelligence. The rise of easily accessible AI has been a boon to the internet trolls. Before, you needed special skills to doctor torture porn to make it look like my kids were the victims. Now, anyone can do it.

With a sigh, I click on the most egregious threats and forward them on to Mike Lustig at the FBI. Mike’s an old friend of Sam’s who tolerates me because I’m Sam’s partner and the mother of Sam’s adopted kids. He knows I promised Sam I’d stop Sicko Patrol, and he obviously knows I haven’t since I still send him what I find. He only agreed to keep that fact a secret because he understands why I can’t give it up.

Not that there’s much Mike can do with what I send him. Still, it’s better than nothing.

The sun is just starting to brighten the sky outside the window in my office when my cell buzzes with an incoming call from a blocked number. Frowning, I check the time: not even 6:00 a.m. Way too early for a typical call.

I’m automatically on alert. My first thought is the kids: Something’s happened and it’s the authorities or the hospital reaching out.

For a moment, a familiar panic courses through me and I glance toward the alarm keypad mounted on the wall by the door. It’s showing all the doors and windows locked and armed. Still, that doesn’t mean one of my kids didn’t bypass the system and sneak out. Lanny’s been known to do that before.

Heart tripping, I swipe to answer the phone as I jolt from my chair and start down the hallway to check on my children.

I pull up short when I hear a familiar voice. “Gwen, hey, it’s Taylor. I know it’s early, but I saw your computer was online and active so I figured you’d be awake. Is now a bad time?”

I let out a relieved breath and sag against the doorjamb. It’s onlya work colleague, not the cops or the hospital. Even so, I feel a compulsive need to see my kids and make sure they’re okay.

“Yeah, sure. Can you hold on a sec?” I ask Taylor.

I mute the call and slip down the hall. I look into Connor’s room first. He’s curled on his side in a tight little ball, his longish hair fanned around his face. Lanny is the opposite. She’s sprawled across the top of her bed, one foot hanging off the side and half the blankets shoved to the floor.

They’re both sleeping soundly. I close my eyes and take another deep breath, trying to clear the adrenaline coursing through me.

By the time I make it back to my office and close the door, my heart rate has almost returned to normal, but the buzz of anxiety still runs across my nerves. I take a seat at my computer and unmute my phone.

“Sorry about that. Just had to check on something. What’s up?”

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” She sounds genuinely chagrined. “Like I said, I saw that your computer was online, so I thought I’d take the chance you were free.”

It shouldn’t surprise me that Taylor knows I’m online. She’s one of the best hackers in the business. I’m just lucky she works for the same private investigation firm I do. I’d hate to be on her bad side. The things she can do with time and access to the internet are scary.

It’s also useful.

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