Page 122 of Rising Waters

“Who did it?”

“You’re never going to believe it. According to reports, you’re right by definition. The perp is a serial killer, responsible for four deaths and two assaults.”

“Who?” Kenzi asks.

“The first person who should have been suspected in the coach’s death.”

Kenzi gasps. “Not the wife with the little boy.”

“Yep. I wonder if she also killed her husband.”

“Or maybe his death was an accident as the Blue Gil Sheriff reported.”

“That’s a mystery that may never be solved,” Ali says. “Hang on for a commercial announcement and when we come back, we have news out of Iron Falls, Massachusetts.”

Epilogue

After long days of perfecting the visual effects for a scene depicting a fatal injury, I sit on my balcony watching the sparkling waves of the ocean. The tide is up, lapping the large rocks near the shore. Earlier today, the ocean water was far from the rocks.

The 50/90 rule comes to mind: an hour after slack water, the rate of flow is fifty percent of the maximum, at two hours it’s ninety percent, at three hours it’s one hundred percent, at four hours it’s ninety percent again, at five hours it’s fifty percent, and at six hours it’s slack.

The waters rise and recede. There’s nothing that can be done to change the pattern.

As of late, lemonade is my drink of choice. My new obsession is dark chocolate. Eating an entire bag of dark chocolate won’t result in a blackout.

I often wonder if Serena knew of all the girls who were involved with Craig through the years.

Where are they?

Who are they?

Are they alive or are they unsolved homicide cases?

My phone rings, taking me away from my thoughts. I stare at the screen.

Keith.

Like rising waters, my past returns.

I lift the phone…

THE END