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MADELINE
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Mason’s visit was the last time I spoke to anyone in my family. That visit from my brother leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. They were all in the courthouse when I was finally allowed to attend my own trial. Sitting on the opposite side, never glancing at me. Not even side-eye. I know, because I watched them. My eyes never left them, not even when the judge addressed me. Not even when they exhibited all the articles about my supposed death.
I did not get to hear everyone speak, but I read through some of the trial documents when my careless court-appointed attorney left me alone for way too long one day.
Everyone and their damn brother came in to speak their peace. Berkley and Dr. Pratt might have been the only two people who had anything good to say. The others went out of their way to make me sound like a loon.
Still, no one has bothered to visit me.
Dr. Haque was my saving grace. He volunteered to treat me, as long as they housed me in a residential facility in which he could practice. He presented a solid case, and the judge went for it.
So, here I am. Locked up in a padded cell, under constant watch, fed three times a day, and not allowed to fraternize with the other crazies.
***
Six months later, I get my first letter.
Dear Madeline,
I know it has been a while, but I needed time to cool down. We all did. I want to apologize for so many things that have happened since the truth came out, but I’m not ready. I might never be ready.
We grieved for you, Madeline. Every day for the last ten years, I have missed you. Whatever happened to you, whatever made you feel the need to kill your sister and take over her life; I am sorry for that.
I am sorry if anything that I did made you do that. Your mother and I were never the same after that day, but we had to stay strong for the two children who still depended on us. These last few months have me reflecting on the weeks following that dreadful day in Mexico. Our world was turned upside down. Memories sometimes become clearer upon reflection, and I see it now. I thought you were mourning the loss of your sister, along with the rest of us. Now I see you were withdrawing.
You dressed like Mallory, talked like her, ate the food she would eat. That must have been hard for you. Holding on to that act day in and day out for a decade. You didn’t want us to see any cracks. You distanced yourself further and further every year so no one would know.
Now we are left with an unbearable pain all over again. Losing sleep, unable to eat. A melancholy has graced this house once again as we mourn the daughter we lost so many years ago, yet thought we still had.
I don’t know how your mother feels about you at the moment. It may be a long time, if ever, before you will hear from her. Please allow her that space. I know it seems like we do not care, but we do. You just made it a little harder for us.
I keep up with your doctors as much as possible, and from what they tell me, you are making progress. You are getting the help you need, and that’s all that matters right now. Stay focused on that. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to see you again.
Praying for you, Dad
Praying for you? I don’t think I have ever heard those words leave my father’s lips. Still haven’t as this is just written word, not spoken. This is good, it could work in my favor. I haven’t lost him yet.
With enough time and communication, I could get him on my side. Maybe he will even spring for a real lawyer. One that can get us the hell out of here.
“What do you think, Mal? Do you think it will work? Might take some time, but I’m up for the challenge if you are.”
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THE END
Acknowledgments
Some people who know me in real life might have some questions. Yes, I have a broken sister. We are not twins; we look or act nothing alike. However, this book is complete fiction. None of the characters or situations are based on real people or real incidents that have happened in my life.
Now that we have gotten that out of the way, I would like to first thank my fans. Without you readers, I would have probably stopped publishing a few books ago. To all my Hellions, you mean the world to me.
A special thanks goes out to Candice Perkins. She won a contest and got to create a character for this book. Thanks to you, Candice, Berkley was born. I hope you love her as much as I do.
To my family—all of you. Mom, siblings (even the ones I don’t talk to), my husband, and my three boys. Okay, guess I’ll throw the dogs and turtle in there too, even though you cause more of a distraction than anything. Thank you so much for your continued support and encouragement.
To my editor and friend, Mandy Farrar. With each manuscript I send you, your feedback gets more and more brutal. Keep firing those shots. Not only do I need them, I love them. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I am so glad to be a part of it.
I would also like to thank Killer Nashville. The feedback and praise I received for this book was overwhelming. Thank you to the agents and editors who took the time to listen to my pitch and read my work.