But, what if I open my eyes, and sheisthere? A tiny body decomposing, her resting place disturbed because I’ve been lied to.
It’d be like losing her all over again.
I don’t know if I can do this.
“Angel,” Ringo rasps, his voice laced with heartache and love, and knowing he’s here with me, ready to catch me once again, is how I know I can do this.
I have to know, because not knowing will destroy me.
So, I slowly blink open my eyes and look down into my daughter’s casket.
2
It takes me a moment to figure out what I’m looking at. For my eyes and brain to work together and make sense of what’s resting in the white satin interior.
And then, a barrage of emotions rip through me.
Confusion. Betrayal. Agony. Relief.
My eyes flick up, locking with Ringo’s as tears streak down his cheeks, even as his lips quirk up a little.
“Angel.”
I shake my head, another sob lurching from me as I force my gaze back to the casket.
There inside is a small hessian sack of sand. And nothing else.
“Where the fuck is my baby?!” I scream, my hands fisting into my hair as terror and grief slam into me.
Grief that nearly killed me.
Grief that consumed me.
Grief that fundamentally changed who I am.
Gasps echo around me as I lurch to my feet, rage twisting my face as I spin on the spot.
“Where ishe?!” I scream, and Ringo rushes to my side, knowing exactlywhoI’m talking about.
“He’s up in one of the vans.”
Spinning, I storm towards the orchard, figures shifting out of my way, their faces not registering as my tunnel vision locks in.
Daniel Stone better give me answers, or I swear to fucking God, I will make him bleed in ways he never imagined.
Hurrying up the hill, I hear Ringo at my side, and others at my back as I go in search of answers.
“We interrogated him on the drive here,” Ringo updates me as we storm forward. “But he said he’d only talk to you.”
I barely acknowledge Ringo’s words as we reach the top of the hill to find a few vans parked in front of the barn.
“Which one?” I snap, and Ringo’s pointed finger comes into view, gesturing to the van flanked by four Marx security guards.
I head that way, and Ringo orders them to open the door as we near, and as it slides open, my eyes fall on a badly beaten Daniel Stone.
My ex-boyfriend.
And my cousin.
