could say that was the end.
It wasn’t.
The real ending came three weeks later.
I had moved back into the house.
Claire was staying with a friend.
Derek’s gym temporarily closed while accountants sorted through its finances.
The bank froze several accounts.
Charges were likely.
I didn’t ask which ones.
I spent my evenings repairing things.
A loose cabinet hinge.
A leaking outside faucet.
The porch light Claire had hated because she said it was too bright.
Ordinary things.
There is enormous comfort in ordinary things after your life collapses.
Then one rainy Thursday evening, someone knocked on my door.
A woman stood beneath the porch light.
Early forties.
Brown hair.
Thin.
A scar beneath her left ear.
I knew her immediately.
Not because I had seen her recently.
Because there had been a photograph of her on Claire’s parents’ mantel for years.
Melissa Ward.
The dead sister.
Alive.
