A dog barked.
Someone’s children were arguing about a basketball.
Ordinary sounds.
Beautiful sounds.
Life.
Howard was sentenced eight months later.
Life without parole.
Kessler received seventeen years.
The investigation exposed enough corruption inside the agency that several families had cases reopened.
Denise received four years.
Before sentencing, she asked permission to write Vicky letters.
I said no.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because Vicky deserved the right to grow without adults forcing complicated feelings onto her.
When she’s older, she can choose.
That decision belongs to her.
Denise accepted it.
For once.
A year after everything ended, I stood outside my first college class.
Twenty years old now.
Backpack over one shoulder.
Terrified for an entirely different reason.
My phone buzzed.
Vicky.
I answered.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“So are you.”
“Good point.”
“Did you go inside yet?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’m considering dropping out.”
“Michael.”
“I’m kidding.”
