Grandad’s been quiet until now. “Rebecca, what would you do if they were your kids?”
She meets his gaze. “I’d separate them, and let the pressure ease.”
“No,” Charlotte says again.
Ms. Bennett nods, like she expected it. “Then this won’t resolve quickly. Not while things look the way they do.” She closes her notebook. “You should think about that.”
Grandad stands when she does. “Thank you, Rebecca.”
“Of course, Michael,” she says, gathering her notebook and sliding it into her bag. She gives a brief nod to the room. “Contact me immediately if you hear from them again.”
Separated from Charlotte—there’s no version of that I can picture.
Fourteen years of knowing exactly where she is, every second of the day.
I don’t know how to exist without her next to me.
Chapter 33
Charlotte Gallagher
It’s beena month since the detectives sat in our house and questioned us, and the world still hasn’t lost interest. If anything, it’s leaned in further, hungry for more.
The police visit made headlines within days.
Siblings Stranded Together for Fourteen Years Questioned by Detectives.
That was enough to keep it going, one story feeding the next until we stopped being people and became something to be picked apart.
I don’t understand the obsession.
I’ve tried to, turning it over in my head more times than I can count. There’s no sense in it, so I’ve stopped looking for any.
What I do know is that Dane isn’t happy, I’m not happy, and the life we came back to isn’t something either of us can endure for much longer.
I’ve been watching him for weeks. He hasn’t said it out loud, but part of him is suffocating.
Something’s got to change.
There’s a conversation we can’t keep avoiding.
I’ve been putting it off for two weeks, hoping for another answer to appear. One that doesn’t ask anything of us. One that doesn’t hurt.
It never came.
The lawyer said it plainly: separation—even temporary—removes the central concern. It won’t stop the attention, but it will redirect it.
She said it like it was simple.
And she’s right in a way I can’t argue with. I’ve known it since she said it, and I haven’t brought it to Dane because I know what it will cost him to hear it.
He’s at the table with his coffee when I come downstairs. He looks up as I walk in, and something in my face gives it away straight away.
He sets the mug down. “What’s wrong?”
I sit across from him. “We need to talk about something.”
He waits.
