Page 79 of Darkwater Lane

She laughs, incredulous. “You think I’m involved?”

“I think someone is trying to set me and Sam up. You’ve made your hatred of us clear. You’d stop at nothing to get revenge, and it’s not going to work.”

She stalks closer, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t want you dead, Gwen. I want you miserable. Sam too. I want the world to hate you as much as I do. I want you to live a long life, and every minute of it I want you to suffer.”

Her words send chills down my spine. I remember looking into Melvin’s eyes after he’d been arrested and no longer felt the need to hide his true self from me. He carried so much hatred inside. It burned through him, just like it does in Rowan.

“And my kids?” I ask her. “Do they deserve to suffer too? Do you have any idea what your podcast has done to them? The kind of hate they’re getting online? It wasn’t enough for you to come for me and Sam in your podcast, but you came after my kids. You used their names. You made them targets.”

“Their father made them targets,” she spits.

I throw up my arms. “They didn’t get to choose who their parents were!”

She steps forward, finger pointing. “Yes, but you chose who you married. Who you had children with.”

“I didn’t know he was a murderer!” I shout. My hands clench into fists at my sides. I’m so tired of these fucking accusations. I’m surprised by the rage coursing through me. I force myself to take a step back and put distance between us.

“You know what I think, Gina?”

I bristle at her use of my old name. She’s doing it on purpose—refusing to acknowledge who I am now. I clench my teeth and say nothing.

Her eyes narrow. “I think you’re still Melvin’s Little Helper. I think you haven’t stopped killing. I think you have an enemies list and you’re working through it one by one, killing them all. And I think you leave one of Melvin’s bones behind as a calling card. As a sick way of honoring him.”

“If I had an enemies list, Rowan, you’d be at the top of it.”

“Is that a threat?”

I hear a car engine behind me and turn to see my SUV pulling out of the driveway and onto the street. Lanny is at the wheel, Conner in the passenger seat. I’ve forgotten to text them the all-clear and I kick myself for the panic I see etched on both my children’s faces. It only adds fuel to my anger.

I wave to indicate that everything is okay, then motion for them to pull over so I can hop into the car. Lanny drives half off the road, and I heave open the back passenger door. “Leave us alone, Rowan,” I call back to the woman. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

She laughs. “Why would I care about your lawyer? Don’t forget, truth is an absolute defense to a defamation claim. You can’t run from the truth, Gina!”

Her voice echoes behind me as I slam the door and tell my daughter to drive.

“Who was that?” Lanny asks. There’s a slight quaver to her voice, though she’s trying not to let it show—remnants of the adrenaline dump from having to grab Connor and run.

“Rowan Applegate,” Connor answers before I have a chance. “Sam’s sister Callie’s sister.”

“The woman from the podcast?” The sudden rage in my daughter’s voice makes me worried she might slam on the brakes and turn around to go after the woman. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Probably wants to keep ruining our lives. It’s what the Lost Angels like to do,” Connor says. There’s a dullness to his voice. It almost sounds like exhausted complacency. It worries me. He’s been less animated lately. Less engaged. I worry that his scars from what happened in Gardenia last fall are more emotional than physical.

He’s become withdrawn, and I desperately want to find some sort of normalcy for him. Something for him to look forward to.

There’s so much I should be doing right now. There’s a potential serial killer out there targeting people who have been stalking me. I have to tell Sam, we have to figure out his alibis, we have to alert the FBI. We have to figure out what to do about Rowan. We have to record more of the podcast for Madison. We need to be figuring out who’s trying to set Sam up and why.

Then I think about what I told Lanny earlier about how we can’t let these things dictate our lives. That Melvin wins when we live in fear. If I want her to believe that, then I need to embrace the same philosophy.

“Why don’t we go ahead and head over to that barn we were going to check out?” I suggest. “We can stop in town and get a slice of cake at Kathy’s Kakes on the way home.”

Lanny’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Do I get to drive?”

I smile at her. “Absolutely.”

22

GWEN

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