45. Nicole

Red and blue beams dance all through the overgrowth. A sparkling light show reflecting off the raindrops still clinging to branches and leaves. There's lots of shouting, but it all sounds far away, like the volume has been turned down on my life. Casey stands beside me. His hand is between my shoulder blades, rubbing, massaging. He's talking, but I can't hear what he's saying.

My attention is fixed on the gurney being carried across the yard by two paramedics. They load it into an ambulance.

Lucas is seated at the back of another ambulance. One paramedic is wrapping bandages around his head while another is checking his eyes with a flashlight.

"Lucas is going to be okay," Beth says over my shoulder. For some reason her voice cuts through all the fog and registers.

"He is?" I ask.

"Yeah, but they're going to bring him in for an MRI to make sure there's no bleeding or swelling in the brain."

"What about you, Beth?" Casey asks. His thick brows draw together with concern. "Did the paramedics check on you?"

"Briefly."

"You should go to the hospital and have a doctor look you over, the both of you." His eyes shift between Beth and me.

She's soaking wet from the rain, covered in mud. Her skin is a mix of black and blue and dried blood clings to her face. I'm sure I look the same.

We nod and tell him we will.

With the gurney loaded, one paramedic jumps in the back and the other races around the ambulance to the driver's seat.

"How's Michael?" Beth asks.

Casey purses his lips as though he's not sure if he should answer. The doors of the ambulance close with a thud. The lights flick on, and the sirens roar as it speeds up the driveway.

"They don't know yet," he finally lands on. "He's lost a lot of blood and hasn't regained consciousness. They'll have to bring him in for emergency surgery in order to find out the extent of his injuries. Gunshots to the stomach are tricky."

Beth and I exchange a look of fortitude. We did what we had to do. But I think it was me who fired the shot. I can't be sure. It all happened so fast. But it all happened so slowly too. Moments that change us don't play by the rules of time. They're everywhere all at once.

"What are they going to do about the three graves?" Beth asks. She turns her head, looking down at the valley where dozens of cops roam the property.

"They'll excavate the bodies, bring them in for identification, and open an investigation," Casey explains.

"Detective Dunn," an officer calls from the top of the hill.

"Yeah," Casey says.

"Captain needs ya."

Casey nods and tells us he'll be back shortly. He joins the other officer and heads down the valley.

I tilt my head and look to Beth. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she says. "Thanks to you."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did, Nicole. You saved my life."

"You would have done the same for me. That's what sisters do. They save each other."

She wraps her arms around my body and hugs me. It's one of those embraces that heals a part of you. One that serves as a reminder that love truly can conquer all.

"Love you." The words come out so quietly, I almost hope she doesn't hear them.

"Love you too, Nicole," she whispers back.

Tears well from deep inside me, a place I haven't cried from in a long time. They spill out and course down my cheeks. They're tears of relief. Beth pulls away, looking me in the eyes. She's crying just as much as I am. She looks so much like Mom did at her age.

She slides an envelope from her pocket and holds it out. "I found this."

I hesitate for a moment before taking it from her. On the front, written in my mother's handwriting, is the name Michael.

"What is it?"

"It's the letter Mom wrote for you. Michael switched his out for yours."

My bottom lip trembles and I feel my throat closing. I pull the letter from the envelope. It only takes a few words for me to know Beth is right. This is the letter Mom wrote for me. The tears continue to build and fall. I fold the letter.

"You aren't going to read it?" Beth asks.

"Not yet. This isn't the right moment."

She places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "I get it."

"I have something for you too." I reach into my pocket and hand Beth the key for the safe-deposit box.

Her brows shove together as she flips it over in her hand. "Did you open it?"

"Yeah."

"What was inside?"

"Hold on," I say, putting a finger up. I walk to my car parked in the driveway and grab the manila envelope from the front seat. I'll let Beth read Mom's letter before I turn it over to the police.

My hand trembles as I extend it to her. It's withdrawals, my body craving a drug. It used to scare me when my body quaked because I wasn't strong enough to stave them off without giving in. But I'm not scared anymore. I'm stronger than I ever gave myself credit for, and I know chasing the high is the equivalent of running in place. With each stride, dirt gets kicked up and all that happens is you end up digging a hole beneath you. If you dig long enough, you'll eventually get buried in it.

Beth hesitates for a moment before taking the envelope from me. She doesn't say anything about my trembling hand. The flap is already open, ready for her to look inside and get a glimpse of the past.

"What is it?" she asks, briefly looking at me.

"It's everything Mom wanted us to know."

"And what's that?"

"The truth," I say.