Epilogue

As the sun rose over the Atlantic Ocean, Diane stood on the sand with the Casino at her back. Anthony had returned to the inn and was, she hoped, sleeping soundly by now. Emily and Michelle had promised her they wouldn’t let him out of their sight if he came out of his room.

She was wired and ready to record her on-camera close. Diane smiled at Sammy and Gary as they made their preparations for the live shot. Sammy was uncharacteristically quiet this morning, as if in respect for what Diane had been through.

Ocean Grove was the lead story on KEY to America this morning. With five minutes till air, Matthew arrived back at Diane’s side, ready to fill her in on what he had just learned from the police.

“We’re golden with the cops.” He grinned. “All of a sudden they’re telling me everything we want to know. First of all, Leslie is all right. She missed her jugular vein, and she’s in stable condition at Jersey Shore University Medical Center.”

“Thank God the police finally got there right after she cut herself,” Diane said softly. “If they hadn’t, who knows what would have happened?”

“Well, surviving physically would seem to be the least of Leslie’s problems. That girl is in for a legal nightmare as well as in need of some major-league psychological therapy.”

Diane nodded. “I guess she will be tried and psychiatric testimony will be admitted in her defense. But if you ask me, Owen Messinger should get his walking papers. Leslie needs more help than he’s been able to give her.”

“You said it, and she’ll be well rid of him,” Matthew agreed, “because here’s an interesting little aside. The police told me it looks like Messinger staged a break-in of his own office. He pretended that his patient notes had been taken. Apparently, he didn’t like how the results were coming out for a new therapy or something he was working on. He was going to get rid of the files with the negative findings so they couldn’t be included in the paper he hoped to publish. That way, only the positive findings would remain.”

Diane recalled the therapist telling her about the burglary when she’d interviewed him at his office. That visit made her thoughts turn to Larry Belcaro. The poor man had tried to tell her about his fears regarding Messinger, but in her hurry she had brushed him off, not just then but again on the phone a couple of hours ago. He deserved better treatment.

“And, Diane?” Matthew was continuing. “Anna Caprie’s fine and at home, and Arthur Tomkins has already been released. Make sure you include that in your stand-up as well.”

Unclipping her microphone, Diane was ready to go back to the Dancing Dunes for a shower and a nap when she felt her cell phone vibrate.

“This call is from a federal prison.”

Philip fired the questions nonstop. “Diane, honey, are you all right? How’s Anthony? I just saw you on TV. How could they make you get out there and tell the story after all you’d just been through?”

“Sweetheart, there wasn’t anyone else they could send in time to do the report, but because I’d just been a part of it, it made the story even better.” She answered his other questions, reassuring him that his family was well and intact.

“This call is from a federal prison.”

“I should have been there, Diane. I hate that I’m not out there to protect you.”

Diane refrained from whispering, I hate that too. She answered instead, “We’re fine, Philip. We really are.”

“If anything ever happened to you or one of the kids, I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve done so much to hurt you already. But if you give me a chance, Diane, I’ll make it up to you. I promise I will.”

“You’ll be out of there soon, Philip. And when you come home, we’ll take it one step at a time. That’s all we can do. But I do love you, Philip, and I know you love me. That’s a better start than many people have.”

“Ready for me to drop you off for a little shut-eye?” asked Matthew. “You can catch a couple of hours’ sleep before you have to work on the piece for Evening Headlines.”

“Yep. Sounds good.” Diane smiled.

Matthew gave the crew instructions about where they would meet up later and then the correspondent and the producer walked over the sand, climbed the seawall, and crossed the boardwalk to Matthew’s car.

“You think we could make a stop before you drop me off?” Diane asked.

“Sure,” said Matthew. “Where to?”

When they arrived at Surfside Realty, the building was still locked up.

“Want to get a cup of coffee to pass the time until it opens?” suggested Matthew.

“Fine. As long as it’s decaf. I want to be able to sleep later.”

They walked along Main Avenue in the direction of Nagle’s. As they approached the scattering of tables in front of the building, Matthew spoke up. “Isn’t that Shawn Ostrander? And isn’t that Arthur Tomkins with him?”

They went up to the table where the two men sat. Diane spoke first. “I’m so glad the truth came out, Mr. Tomkins. I’m so glad you’ve been cleared.”

Arthur smiled his gentle smile as he tapped his spoon three times against the side of his coffee cup.

“From what I’ve heard,” said Shawn, “we have you to thank.”

“We’re just glad that everything turned out all right.” Diane turned to Matthew. “Which reminds me. You still have that envelope from Arthur’s sister to give to Shawn, right?”

“Oh, God, yes,” said Matthew, reaching into his pants pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around since the Stone Pony last night. I tried to find you there, but the bartender said you didn’t come in.”

Shawn nodded. “I drove to Spring Lake to talk to Arthur’s family.” He put his arm around Arthur’s shoulder. “We talked about how it’s time for the family to come together again and heal. We’re going to take a ride down to see them later today or maybe tomorrow, aren’t we, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded his head three times. “If you say so, Shawn. I always do what you tell me to do.”

Larry Belcaro was unlocking the front door of Surfside Realty when Diane and Matthew got back to the building. The real estate agent looked surprised to see them.

“I saw your report on the news this morning, Ms. Mayfield. After the night you had, what are you doing here of all places?”

“I wanted to apologize, Mr. Belcaro,” said Diane.

“Whatever for?”

“For not taking enough time to talk to you the other night in the parking lot, for calling you so late last night.”

“Well, I figured out what that call was about when I saw the news this morning. Poor, poor Leslie.” Larry shook his head. “Owen Messinger messed her up so badly, just like he did my Jenna. But that quack will go scot-free. It just tears me apart.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Matthew, “Dr. Messinger has shown himself to be a liar and a fake.” He went on to explain about the false burglary and the missing files. “When this gets into the papers, I think it’s a pretty safe bet that Owen Messinger’s practice will drop off sharply. Even if he doesn’t serve a prison sentence or get a monetary fine, his punishment will be loss of credibility in his professional community.”

“Well, that’s some good news,” said Larry, brightening. “I’ve prayed that Messinger would be stopped. I guess the good Lord has finally answered my prayers.” The agent looked at his watch. “I have a guy coming in here in a few minutes, and I have to copy off a listing for him. I’ve been working with him for weeks—even had to lie to his wife when she found one of my cards with his things. He lives in one of the tents when he comes down, but he wants to find a house in Ocean Grove and surprise her.”

Diane climbed the stairs to the porch of the Dancing Dunes Inn, tired but satisfied. She was about to go up to her room when Carlos told her that her daughter was in the dining room.

She entered to find Michelle sitting at one of the tables, a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and whole wheat toast before her. Diane sat down and ordered the same thing.

“Are you all right, Mom?”

“Yes, honey, I’m fine. Are you?”

Michelle took a long swallow of orange juice. “Yes. I’m okay. I’ve been thinking about everything, Mom. Emily and I got up to watch your piece this morning. That Leslie Patterson is one messed-up girl.”

“Yes, she is.”

“I wonder how she got that way,” said Michelle before taking another bite of her toast.

“It’s hard to say, honey. I suppose it wasn’t any one thing.”

Michelle looked with wide eyes at her mother. “I don’t want to end up like that, Mom,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to, Michelle. You don’t have to. You, all of us, just have to try to focus on the right things in life. It’s fine to care about your appearance, but it’s unhealthy to be obsessed with it. There’s so much more to life than your jean size, honey.”

By the time mother and daughter finished their conversation and got up from the table, there was nothing left on either plate.