Page 42 of You'll Be Sorry

“Which, given the extent of her injuries…” Debs paused thoughtfully. “That was one determined woman.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Theo asked. “Basically, seal up a person alive in an underground pit?”

“That, my friend, I couldn’t tell you. Nor do I have the answer for when. Cuz, let’s face it, evildoers doing evil things, well, that’s been going on for as long as humans have existed. But this is the start. You found her. We’ve brought her to the light. And now her story will be told, whether it’s decades or centuries old.”

“When will you know more?” Mandy asked.

“Oh, all it takes is time and money. First things first—I’ll pack up the bones for transport to Concord, where Pam will deliver to the ME. Then, chances are, I’m gonna end up with all of this back at my lab, as next step will be defining the postmortem interval—are we talking forty years ago, or a hundred and forty years ago? Decisions and budgets will be determined from there.”

Debs returned her attention to the well, peering over the edge at the firefighter still working below. “Hey, look at that. You’re almost done with the first pass!”

“First pass?”

“Oh, Caleb, this is just the beginning of our quality time together. So, let’s talk wet screening!”

Debs grinned, while from below came the sound of Caleb’s muffled groan.

15

The dog wanted to go out. Raquel had tried the back door, but the mutt wouldn’t so much as stick his snout through the opening. Next the front door. He’d peered onto the empty porch, then sat back on his haunches and stared at her pointedly. So apparently the dog wanted them both to go out.

“It’s too cold,” she informed him.

He regarded her reproachfully.

“And people-y. Which you know you don’t like any more than I do.”

Less judgment, same intensity.

Now she regarded her front yard as well. Vehicles remained stacked up along the circular drive, all the way down for as far as she could see. It was nearly half a mile to the main road, meaning the news van could be parked at the very end, just waiting for an unsuspecting soul to emerge. But as long as Raquel stayed on this side of the woods, it should be safe enough.

She sighed, studied the dog, who could be impossibly regal when he chose.

“Fine. But you’re on your own. Are we clear? Stick around, run away, not my problem. Theo is the one who collects strays. I’m more a survival-of-the-fittest kind of gal. Though…” She couldn’t help herself. “Try not to break his heart too much. The man has already been through enough.”

She grabbed her down jacket. Then she and the canine opportunist exited the house, clambering down the front steps. The sun was shining overhead, but based on the weak light and biting chill, it didn’t feel much like working. Raquel shoved her hands into her pockets, hunching her shoulders against the shivering temps.

She’d spent most of her childhood experiencing winters so cold and summers so hot, the temperatures had felt less like passing seasons than grievous wounds stamped into her bones. Even now, she had to remind herself she wasn’t a little girl, huddled against her equally freezing siblings for warmth. She was not a teenager, lingering too long at the local diner because anything would be better than going home. She was not even the sixteen-year-old who’d stood one last time in a total wreck of a trailer, listening to the police sirens grow closer and closer.

What will we say?

Bunny, I’m scared.

Mr. Man scampered farther ahead, nosing at drifts of dead leaves and clumps of dried grass. A squirrel popped up, startling him. He jumped back with a bark of surprise, one of the first truly doglike reactions she’d seen from him, and she found herself smiling.

Small things, that’s what the therapist had told her all those years ago. Focus on the here and now, ground yourself in the present, utilizing all five senses. Trauma had both somatic and psychological impacts. Body and mind. It was not enough to treat one; she must address both.

Even at a young age, Raquel had understood she wasn’t quite like other people. The therapist had seen it, too. The way she could register emotions and yet remain slightly detached. It’d held her in good stead. According to her doctor, even enabled her to survive a situation very few people could’ve handled.

The police had taken her lack of hysterics as a sign of guilt. Butlater, when all the facts had come to light and the therapist had offered his professional opinion, the court system had been swayed in her favor.

Theo seemed to get it—that she absolutely, completely, unreservedly loved him, which was to say she felt for him a fraction of the emotion he felt for her. She could want but never need. She could feel affection but never trust. She could reach for him time and time again in the middle of the night but still always let him go.

A little bit of her, Theo had told her once, was still twenty times better than a hundred percent of someone else.

She hadn’t the courage to ask him lately if he still felt the same.

For all of her cool, calm analytics, she’d never anticipated what would come next.