Page 139 of He Sees You
"Do you regret it?" I ask.
"Which part? Marrying you? Killing them? Watching my father die badly?"
"Any of it."
She considers, sipping her coffee. "I regret not doing it sooner. I regret the girls we couldn't save, the ones who came before. I regret that Mrs. Barrett died quickly." She sets down the mug. "But no, I don't regret last night."
A car approaching, gravel crunching. Too early for the police—they haven't found the cottage yet.
It's Juliette, looking haggard but satisfied.
She enters without knocking, carrying a box of pastries and a laptop.
"The news is starting," she announces, setting up the laptop on our kitchen table. "Three house fires last night. Judge Hamilton's place, Dr. Wallis' office, and a cottage on the old Lockwood property. Bodies found in all three."
The screen shows aerial footage of the smoking cottage.
The reporter is speculating about connections to Sheriff Sterling's disappearance.
"How?" Celeste asks.
"Thalia's network. They're thorough. Every buyer's house, every piece of evidence that could lead to the girls—all ash by dawn." Juliette pulls out a pastry, bites into it casually while discussing arson. "The official story will be a trafficking ring turning on itself. Sterling caught in the crossfire."
"And the girls?"
"Gone. Scattered to twelve different cities with new names, new histories. They never existed here."
A knock at the door.
Too authoritative to be anyone but police.
"Showtime," Celeste murmurs, and her entire demeanor shifts.
When she opens the door, she's a different person—smaller, fragile, eyes already wet with unshed tears.
"Mrs. Lockwood?" It's Detective Wilges from the state police. "I'm sorry to bother you so early, but there's been a development regarding your father."
"Is he—did you find him?" Her voice breaks perfectly.
"There was a fire at a property on the Lockwood estate. We found remains. We'll need DNA confirmation, but we believe it's your father."
Celeste collapses—not dramatically but the way real shock works, knees giving out, hand reaching for the doorframe.
I catch her, pull her against me, the protective husband.
"How?" she whispers.
"We're investigating. May we come in?"
We let them in, two detectives who track blood we've already cleaned, looking for evidence we've already burned.
Celeste sits on the couch, shaking.
I bring her water with a steady hand while Juliette plays the supportive sister-in-law.
"When did you last see your father?" Wilges asks.
"Last night," Celeste says truthfully. "He walked me down the aisle at our wedding."
