“What tipped you off?”
“It was actually a fluke. One night, when he wasn’t home, my computer was out of battery, and I couldn’t find my cord. So I got his laptop out of his briefcase. He has a PC and I have a Mac. We don’t normally use each other’s computers—I find it too frustrating that everything is so different. But I just needed to download some notes my editor had sent me via email and print them out.”
“His laptop wasn’t password protected? I’d be damn sure mine was, especially if I was hiding creepy things like that.”
“It was, but he was so used to me minding my own business—and being prejudiced about using a PC—that he’d grown a bit lax. I knew what passwords he used for his ATM cards and bank accounts and was able to break it quite easily. That’s when I found the files he’d downloaded, because when I downloaded what I needed to print out, they came up in the same folder.”
At first, Reagan seemed speechless. Then she rallied and said, “That must’ve been the worst moment of your life.”
Even after eighteen months, Serenity could feel the revulsion that had welled up then as strongly as if it had just happened. “It was, especially because we were planning to start a family.”
“No kidding? I’m sorry. You’re lucky you found that crap when you did. But you can’t blog about that. Even if most people will sympathize with what you went through, there’ll always be those internet trolls and agitators who try to cause problems—or think like that commentator who said what she did about BTK’s wife—and, at the very least, make you feel like shit.”
“But I write about criminal cases involving other people. How can I be such a coward as to skip myself?”
“Easily. You come up with another topic, and you keep posting about other topics until you’re whole and healthy again and what Sean did has been forgotten. Trust me. I’m in advertising.” She frowned as she corrected herself. “Or I was. Advertising isn’t quite public relations, but it’s close, and I’m telling you, it would be a mistake to give others a forum in which to criticize you.”
Serenity thought about how thin-skinned she’d become, how sensitive. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I am. You’d be so busy trying to deal with the blowback you wouldn’t be able to write for months.”
The idea of scrapping such a daunting blog post—of giving herself permission to do that—brought relief. She deleted the title to make it official. “Okay. So what should I write about?”
“Write about discovering two sisters you never knew you had. Most people will find that interesting.”
“I can’t. My other siblings follow my blog.”
“Then write about BTK.”
“BTK is old news.”
“What about the dark web? I can’t be the only one who doesn’t understand much about it.”
“If I do, someone will bring up how Sean used it—and who knows where the conversation will go from there.”
“True.” She paced to the windows and back. “What’s your next book about? That guy who killed his wife and kids, right? Isn’t that what you told me on Facebook?”
“That’s what it’s supposed to be about.”
“What do you mean? Are you changing cases?”
“No, I’ve done a lot of the research, gathered a ton of information and made notes. But...”
“But?”
“I haven’t actually started the book.”
Reagan stopped walking. “When is it due?”
The panic Serenity had been trying to hold at bay rose a little higher, as though she was marching steadily into the deep end of a pool and the water was now nearly over her head. “It was due last month.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. If I don’t get started soon, you might not be the only one who’s unemployed.” And since Sean had used all their reserves on attorneys, she didn’t have the financial depth she needed to last very long, not without going to her folks for help—which was something she didn’t want to do at thirty-five.
“Then you’re going to get started,” Reagan said firmly. “You’re not only going to get started, you’re going to finish that book and turn it in by the end of the summer. Can you write it that fast?”
“If I was the old me. But I’m not, Reagan. I can’t seem to find that capable person.”
“You still have the skills. That hasn’t changed. Just forget about blogging or doing anything else besides writing the book.”
“I can’t drop my blog. I’ll lose all the momentum I’ve gained there.”
“Then I’ll write it while you focus on your book. I’ll pick subjects that relate to your work—like why parents sometimes kill their children. There’s a name for that, isn’t there? What’s it called?”
“Filicide.”
“Fine, filicide. Most people will never have heard that term, even if they’ve read stories in the media about parents murdering their children. It’s such an unnatural act, so horrifying that they’ll be curious about the reasons. You can edit what I write, or simply name me as a guest blogger while you’re on deadline.”
Serenity couldn’t believe Reagan would volunteer to help that much. “But...why would you do this?”
“Because you need it, and I don’t mind. I don’t have a job right now. This will be new, it’ll be interesting and it’ll free you up to put your energy and creativity where it needs to be. You’ll write for four hours every morning when you first wake up and you’re fresh. After you take a break to hang out with us and Finn and his brothers, you’ll read what you’ve written to Lorelei and me once Lucy goes to bed at night. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get rolling, and we’ll march steadily forward through the summer.”
Dumbfounded, Serenity stared at her. “You’re planning to hold my hand all summer?”
“You’re damn right I am. You’re too good a writer to fall into an abyss of doubt and shock. We’re here to pull you out.” She took Serenity’s laptop and closed it before handing it back. “So we’d better get some sleep, because we start early in the morning.”
15
lorelei
LORELEI WOKE UP thinking about Finn. She’d gone to sleep thinking about him, too. She’d found him attractive from the start, but now she knew he was much more than a handsome face. He was kind and funny and warmhearted. And Lucy seemed to love him.