Page 95 of Darkwater Lane

Diakos wouldn’t know my son well enough to recognize the evasive non-answer. Instead, he takes it as a no. I make a note to follow up with Connor once he leaves.

Diakos then looks at Florida, who shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says softly, her eyes on the floor.

He doesn’t seem particularly pleased with the answers but doesn’t press. Instead, he pulls a card from his pocket and sets it on the table. “If any of you guys think of anything else, feel free to reach out.”

None of us takes the card, and it just sits there. Diakos stands and glances toward the other officer. They say their goodbyes, and I walk them to the door. Once outside, Diakos hesitates. “I wasn’t on the force four years ago, but I’ve read the files. I know what happened with Rain Harrington.” She was the first girl they fished out of the lake, the one Lancel Graham flayed alive.

“Then you know I had nothing to do with either of those two girls’ deaths. And while the police were looking at me, they missed the fact that one of their own had gone bad.”

He nods. “I’m aware. I don’t plan on making the same mistake.”

“Which mistake? The police have made many when it comes to my family.”

“The mistake of not keeping an open mind.”

“The same way you did when you were ready to blame Sam for a murder he didn’t commit?”

“If you’ll recall, I was on board with asking the lab to test for preservatives in the blood.”

“That still didn’t clear his name.”

“Not completely. Nor should it have. There was other evidence that implicated Sam in Varrus’s disappearance.”

I think about the speed camera photos of Sam’s truck. We’d always assumed Leo had found a vehicle that looked like his and swapped the plates in order to set Sam up. But now another idea comes to mind.

“You should look into Rowan Applegate. She’s a Lost Angel, the head of it now that Leo has passed. She was Callie’s sister—Melvin’s last victim. She’s a hacker and may have found a way to manipulate the photos in the speed camera that night. And she’s in town. I saw her the other day down at that dock.” I gesture to where the ambulance and police cars sit, lights flashing.

I wait for Diakos to laugh at my suggestion. To anyone else, it would sound like I’m grasping at straws.

Instead, he says, “I’ll look into it. If you think of anything else, you have my card.”

I watch as the two cops retreat to a dusty police car. They back down the driveway, then head up the road to continue their canvass. Their next stop is Madison’s cabin. I notice that she’s already out on the porch, coffee mug grasped between her hands, watching the activity on the lake.

I wonder if she realizes her culpability in this. It was that fucking podcast that started everything. Though if she hadn’t been the one to produce it, I’m sure the Lost Angels would have found someone else to work with. I’m still not willing to let her off the hook for the role she played.

Ultimately, however, I can’t ignore that I’m the common link between all the tragedies. Every single victim was an enemy ofmine, and someone is hunting them down and taking them out. I don’t know who, and I don’t know why, but I do know that whoever it is has a plan. They’ve been working on this for months, meticulously planning, anticipating my every move and response.

I don’t know what their end game is, but Sam is clearly on their list. Why else would they be working so hard to set him up to take the fall? And why would they want him to take the fall if it isn’t to punish me?

I’m their ultimate target.

With this conclusion comes an even more brutal, horrifying realization: if anyone knows me at all, they’d be keenly aware that the ultimate way to destroy me would be to go after my kids.

I have to get them away from me and someplace safe. My only real choice is Kez and Javi’s. I hate asking them, given that Kez is so near her due date, but I don’t see any other options. I pull out my phone and give her a call. She answers immediately.

“Gwen, I’ve been trying to reach you. They pulled another body from the lake.”

I glance out at the police boats still circling in the water, their lights flashing. As I watch, one of the divers surfaces. “I know. Detective Diakos has already been by to ask if we heard anything last night.”

“She was murdered, Gwen. Just like the two women four years ago.”

My stomach sinks. It’s confirmation of what I already suspected.

“Her skin was flayed,” Kez continues. “And her vocal cords were cut. They think she was tied to a cement block, but the rope somehow got severed.” She hesitates before saying what we’re both thinking. “It’s just like Melvin, Gwen.”

“Melvin’s dead,” I bite out. “So is Lancel Graham.”

“They found a bone in her throat. They’re sending it off to be tested.”

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