Page 97 of Little Silent Stranger
When I’d last checked in on her a couple of days ago, she looked stronger than I expected.
Not healed.
Not whole.
But working on getting through each day.
She told me she spent most of her free time with Logan now, who was back at home with his parents. For her birthday, he’d sketched a portrait of Audrey, one he had worked on while staying at my house. Talia said she cried when she opened it, then cried again when she hung it on the wall.
It wasn’t closure. It was something else. A reminder that love didn’t vanish just because the person was gone.
Gabriel had been charged with involuntary manslaughter, abuse of a corpse, and failure to report a death, among other things.
As my thoughts shifted to the present moment, I turned onto a familiar street and slowed down as Violet Fontaine’s house came into view. I parked behind Bear’s truck. He had arrived before me and stood beside it now, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, shoulders tight.
In the last month, Violet had learned the truth. Not just about Anne, but about Bear and the possibility that he was her half-brother. A DNA test confirmed it, and she’d asked if the two of them could meet. Bear had kept putting it off, saying he was nervous, so I’d stepped in, offering to make formal introductions.
I got out of the car and walked over to him.
“You know something,” I said. “You’ve never told me your actual name.”
He shot me a wink. “I prefer Bear. It’s a good nickname.”
“Understood. You ready?”
He exhaled, then nodded. “As ready as I’m going to get.”
We walked to the door together, and Bear slowed near the porch, hesitating for half a second. I reached for the doorbell, pressing it before he had the chance to change his mind.
The door opened, and Violet’s eyes landed on me first. Then she saw Bear, and she stepped forward without hesitation and wrapped her arms around me.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick, “for helping make today happen.”
I nodded and turned. “This is Bear.”
Violet studied his face with care, as he swallowed, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on hers.
“I—” he started, then stopped.
She reached out, grabbing his hand.
“Come in,” she said. “Please.”
They entered the house together, still hand in hand. Bear glanced back at me once, his expression one of relief.
I said goodbye, and as the door closed behind them, I remained on the porch for a time, thinking about all that had happened since the case began.
Anne had been brought home at last.
Audrey’s voice had been heard, even in death.
And two lives that had grown in parallel without knowing it had crossed in ways no one could imagine.
Some stories ended with justice.
Others ended with mercy.
This one ended with both.
And as I turned away from the house and walked back to my car, I thought about truth and how it always finds a way to come out in the end. And when it does, it changes everything.
THE END
