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"How did they find us?" he growled. "Did you tell them about me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, relieved that I had deleted all the photos and texts to Leland from my phone. "I would never tell anyone about you. I'm on your side. I know what you're doing is right."

He yanked the rope around my wrists, tugging me through the forest. My feet sank into the wet ground. Cold air rasped in my lungs. My heart was in my throat, pounding in my ears. Ivan had turned off his flashlight, and we were stumbling through the darkness with only the light of a slim crescent moon that barely shone through the clouds.

"I'm not going to let them catch us, Katya. I'm going to take you away from here. They're not going to take me alive. We'll be together forever."

"Ivan, you don't want to do this. We can get away. Just untie this rope. I can run faster if my hands are free."

"You really think that I'm stupid, don't you?" he said, his tone changing as he whirled on me. "You think that I don't know what you're doing?"

"I know that you just want to do what's right," the words felt like poison on my tongue.

I had to keep him talking. Keep him rational. Make him believe I was on his side. It was my only hope to get away. My only hope to survive. I knew from my own profile that he had a hero complex. He was on a mission. If I played into his deluded fantasy, it might buy me enough time to save my life. The sound of sirens grew closer. My breath hitched in my throat as hope spread across my chest. I knew it had to be Leland.

"Edith, baby," he pulled me into him, holding me close. The smell of his cologne, sweat, and blood filled my nose. I wanted to vomit again. My body instinctively recoiled, but I tried to disguise it as more nausea. I bent over and retched what was left of my stomach onto the forest floor.

He began to stroke my back. "I know you are the one. I knew that if you saw the truth, you’d understand. There is nothing we can't do together. I've been waiting for a woman like you for so long. Ever since I lost my sister. She wanted me to find a woman who was worthy of me. Who understood what a man needs. I knew that was you from the moment I met you."

"That's right, baby," I spoke to the vomit-covered ground, doubled over, my hands yanked to the side by the rope he was holding. "I wanted you from the day we met at the hospital. I prayed every night you'd find me and make me yours. When you showed up at the pub, I knew it was fate that brought us together."

He grasped my chin and pulled me upright, facing him in the murky moonlight. My mouth was on fire with acid and disgust. He wiped my lips with the cuff of his shirt, then leaned forward and kissed me. I took a sharp breath, holding myself still. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. The most will I'd ever had to exert over my own automatic responses.

"I'm going to untie you." He pulled a scalpel from his jacket pocket. It glinted in the dim light of the moon. I sucked in a breath as he sawed through the rope holding me bound. When the ropes fell away, I grasped my wrists and began to rub them, helping the blood flow through my flesh. The sirens drew closer, and then their movement stopped.

Ivan grabbed my wrist and tugged me deeper into the forest, breaking into a run. "They can't find us, Katya. They'll kill us both."

I had no idea what had happened to him and his sister, but I imagined it could not have been good. Whatever triggered him to become the killer he was now, most likely was violent and brutal, and he was reliving those events now. I tried to keep up, but my toe caught on a branch, and I fell headlong onto the ground.

"Hurry, Katya," he gasped, grabbing my arm. He yanked me to my feet, desperation in his voice. "I'm not going to let them hurt you. I swear I'll protect you. If I have to kill us both myself, I'll make sure they can't hurt you again."

"We can outrun them." I shuddered. The last thing I wanted was to run from the FBI who were here to save my life. Ivan was holding a scalpel that I knew full well he could use to kill me in a few seconds. He grabbed me again, and we rushed through the forest.

The sound of banging echoed through the trees. A man’s amplified voice demanded Ivan give himself up. A helicopter flew overhead, illuminating the trees. It sent gusts of whipping wind down to the forest floor. My hair whirled around me, flying in my face. I stopped in my tracks, looking up at the chopper. I gasped, unable to move.

"Katya," Ivan barked, grabbing my hand. "We have to move. They've found us."

"They've found us," I repeated, my muttered words drowned out by the slicing blades above.

"I'm going to end this," he said. He let go of my hand and pulled the scalpel from his pocket. "I won't let them hurt you again. I won't let them rip us apart." He reached for me, but I jumped back and then darted to the side. "Katya," he screamed.

"Freeze!" A gunshot sliced through the darkness.

Ivan groaned and staggered, dropping his scalpel. I whirled around to find a SWAT team closing in on us. Leland stepped out from behind the pack, wearing a bulletproof vest, his weapon at the ready. Ivan grabbed for his scalpel but couldn't find it on the leaf-covered forest floor. He bared his teeth and lunged at me from his knees, blood spurting from the bullet wound on his shoulder.

I screamed and ran away. SWAT demanded he freeze as another shot was fired. I rushed toward them, and Leland caught me in his arms, pulling me into a warm embrace. The group of law enforcement officers passed us, closing in on Ivan. I glanced up to see them cuff Ivan and check his wounds. Ivan was still alive. I let out a ragged breath.

"Are you okay?" Leland said, inspecting me for injuries.

"I am now that you're here."

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Twenty years of secrets. One night of reckoning.

Criminal profiler Dr. Edith Ward thought returning to her hometown of Bain Island would offer a fresh start. Instead, she finds herself thrust into a nightmare when a series of brutal murders rocks the small community, eerily connected to a twenty-year-old cold case.

Teaming up with Sheriff Devon James, Edith must confront the ghosts of her past while racing to catch a killer. As she delves deeper into the investigation, Edith realizes the murders are hitting closer to home than she ever imagined. With her unique insight into the criminal mind, she becomes both the island's best hope and the killer's potential next target.

Balancing her role in the high-stakes investigation with the challenges of single motherhood and her own traumatic history, Edith finds herself pushed to the brink. Can she trust her instincts to unmask a murderer, or will her return to Bain Island be her undoing?

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I twisted and tugged, straining to free myself from the rope around my wrists in the back seat of Ivan’s Range Rover. I was unable to sit up or see where I was. Terror gripped my heart, and it raced like a runaway freight train. Ivan was going to kill again, and he wanted me to see his handiwork. I gasped for breath, sweat trickling down my brow. The prospect of witnessing a murder loomed over me, but I was powerless to escape.

I yanked at the restraint, panic deep in my bones. I didn’t care what Nathan Turner had done. I would not be a party to his death. I did not want to see what Ivan was capable of. My head started to clear from the exertion, and the reality of the past eight months of my life began to sink in. I’d been dating a serial killer. The Seattle Slayer had shared my bed. I planned to become an FBI profiler, but I had missed all the signs. How could I have been so blind?

I attempted to banish self-recrimination from my mind. How could I have possibly known? There had been no clues, no evidence. But that wasn’t true. I had seen his shoes. I had crafted a profile that was a perfect description of the man I was dating, yet I had ignored it. I yanked the rope again, hoping that rage and fear would give me superpowers. It did not. A tear slid down my face. Fear mingled with impotence and utter stupidity.

I sucked a startled breath as footsteps crunched on the gravel outside the car. The back door swung open, and light streamed into my eyes. My mouth dropped and I squinted at the assault.

"Come on," Ivan said in a gleeful voice. He pointed his flashlight under the seat and unlocked the restraint holding me hostage. He grabbed the rope near my wrists and yanked me out of the car. I stumbled, barely able to stay upright on my feet. He then grabbed me around the waist to steady me. "Careful, clumsy," he chuckled, kissing the top of my head.

I gasped with contempt and fear but said nothing. He held me around the waist with one arm and grasped the rope restraining my wrists with the other.

"I think I'm going to be sick," I said, half as an attempt to make him stop, and half because it was true.

"Be brave, Katya. I'm doing this for you. To protect you. You have to understand the lengths that I would go to keep you safe."

"I'm Edith, Ivan. I'm not your sister."

"Edith. My dear Edith. You betrayed me with an FBI agent. You of all people should be ready to see what men like your pathetic friend will never do. Men like that would stop me from making the world a safer place for women. But he can't stop me. He'll never stop me."

I felt myself gagging, dragging my feet as he pulled me towards a single wide trailer with a dim porch light. It was the only illumination anywhere in sight. The world was swathed in darkness, the sky a dull gray canopy. The air was thick and cold, and my breath puffed out in heavy clouds as I tried to resist Ivan's greater strength.

"I…"

My mind spiraled. I knew what I should do. I should try to convince him that I was on his side, so that he would untie my wrists and let me go. But my body wouldn't listen. All I wanted to do was fight and resist. I kept my mouth closed, unable to decide which part of me to listen to. I let Ivan drag me along the gravel path to the front door. He yanked me up the stairs, and I tripped on the third step, tumbling down to my knees. My bound hands couldn't catch me, so I fell on my elbow and screamed in pain as it scraped the splintered wood.

"Oh, my poor dear Katya," he said, pulling me to my feet. He held me around the waist and yanked me up to the landing before pushing open the front door.

I didn't bother correcting him or reminding him that I was Edith. I was in such a dangerous position, it was better for him to think I was his sister. Better for him to associate me with the girl he would see as forever innocent. Edith was the woman who'd broken up with him and betrayed him with the enemy. There was no advantage in reminding him of who I was. He pulled me through the front door, and the scene in front of me shocked me to the core. I doubled over and vomited. Ivan patted my back, speaking soothing words.

"I know it's brutal, darling. But this is what it takes. This is what it takes to protect what's precious. What's mine."

He pulled me to a tattered armchair and sat me down to face the bloody mess in the center of the room. The corpse of a man sat tied to a kitchen chair. His throat was cut from ear to ear. His head was pulled back, so the gaping wound revealed tendon, bone, and muscle. I cringed and tried to look away. Ivan grabbed my chin and pulled my eyes open, forcing me to confront the dead man in front of me.

"I did this for you, Edith," he whispered in my ear. "No other man will ever love you enough to do what I have done to protect you."

"Please, Ivan. I feel sick. I can't look at this."

"This is what you're studying for. This is what you're choosing over being my wife. To run around with the FBI, looking at scenes just like this one. I could give you a nice, soft life of safety, luxury, and ease. This is what you've chosen," he said, grabbing the back of my hair.

He pointed forcefully at the corpse as his hot breath streamed over my cheek. Tears slid from my eyes, and I tried to control my emotions. I didn't want him to know how he was affecting me. I needed to keep my cool, convince him I was on his side, that I agreed with everything he was doing. But I couldn't make my mouth say the words.

"Tell me you love me, Edith. Tell me you're grateful."

"I do. I am." Agreeing with him was easier than coming up with creative ways to convince him to stop. My mind raced, and my heart pounded so hard I thought it might stop.

Then the words just slipped out of me as if I was reading from a script. "You're my hero. I don't know what I was thinking. You're the one for me. You're everything a man should be. I was a stupid, foolish girl to think that I could ever have anything better than what you have to offer. You're the ideal man, Ivan. Strong, wealthy, brave. The kind of man who does what needs to be done to protect what's his." I knew what he wanted to hear. I'd heard it a hundred times from novels, podcasts, and movies. The damsel in distress professing her love for the hero. The strong, independent woman admitting that she'd been wrong.

I tasted bile on my tongue and thought I might throw up again. "This is too much for me. You’re right. I can't handle it. I need you to protect me. Can't you take me away from here?"

"Of course I can, baby. Of course I can." He cupped my cheeks and smiled at me, looking into my eyes with what I assumed must be his version of love. All I saw was the terrifying gaze of a sadistic psychopath who wanted to own my life, body, heart, and soul. He pulled me to my feet and helped me out the door. He started towards the Range Rover then stopped.

Sirens echoed in the distance.

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Twenty years of secrets. One night of reckoning.

Criminal profiler Dr. Edith Ward thought returning to her hometown of Bain Island would offer a fresh start. Instead, she finds herself thrust into a nightmare when a series of brutal murders rocks the small community, eerily connected to a twenty-year-old cold case.

Teaming up with Sheriff Devon James, Edith must confront the ghosts of her past while racing to catch a killer. As she delves deeper into the investigation, Edith realizes the murders are hitting closer to home than she ever imagined. With her unique insight into the criminal mind, she becomes both the island's best hope and the killer's potential next target.

Balancing her role in the high-stakes investigation with the challenges of single motherhood and her own traumatic history, Edith finds herself pushed to the brink. Can she trust her instincts to unmask a murderer, or will her return to Bain Island be her undoing?

After testing the shoes and scalpels found in the shrine at Ivan’s apartment, Leland’s team had physical evidence that connected Ivan Kozlov to the killings. It was all lining up. There had been several probable next targets found on Kozlov’s computer.

His team narrowed it down to the top probability—a sex offender and pedophile by the name of Nathan Turner. He was living in a trailer on an acre of land that belonged to another ex-con. Leland and a SWAT team started off to the location.

Nathan Turner was a sicko who deserved to spend the rest of his life in prison. He’d been released early due to good behavior. But Kozlov had been stalking him online and in person for the last few weeks.

Nathan Turner had connections to a man employed in the Industrial District where Hana Cho was dumped by the previous victim. Leland assumed that upon finding Hana, Kozlov had switched gears and began targeting her attacker. Now, he hoped, Kozlov had turned his sights back on Turner.

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Twenty years of secrets. One night of reckoning.

Criminal profiler Dr. Edith Ward thought returning to her hometown of Bain Island would offer a fresh start. Instead, she finds herself thrust into a nightmare when a series of brutal murders rocks the small community, eerily connected to a twenty-year-old cold case.

Teaming up with Sheriff Devon James, Edith must confront the ghosts of her past while racing to catch a killer. As she delves deeper into the investigation, Edith realizes the murders are hitting closer to home than she ever imagined. With her unique insight into the criminal mind, she becomes both the island's best hope and the killer's potential next target.

Balancing her role in the high-stakes investigation with the challenges of single motherhood and her own traumatic history, Edith finds herself pushed to the brink. Can she trust her instincts to unmask a murderer, or will her return to Bain Island be her undoing?

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When I came to, it was dark. I was sprawled in the back of Ivan’s car, my wrists bound. I pulled against the rope, but it was attached to something under the seat. Ivan drove along a tree lined road. He glanced over his shoulder and patted my leg. “You woke up just in time. We’re almost there.”

“Ivan,” I croaked. “Where are you taking me?”

“You need to see what I’m willing to do for you. You need to know how much I love you. When you see it, you’ll never want anyone else. You’ll know that I’m the only man who can protect you.”

My mind raced. I was so groggy, I couldn’t think straight. I needed my full faculties to persuade him to stop, to let me go. But I was far from my best form. It felt like there was an ice pick in my brain. I struggled to keep my eyes open. Even the dim lights of the dashboard pierced my vision. “We can work it out,” I said, trying to pull my wrists free from the bounds that held me.

“Of course we can. I know we will. I’m going to show you. I’m not a child anymore. I can protect you now. I’ll never let anything happen to you again.”

“Ivan. Do you know who I am?” I asked, still struggling to pull myself free.

“Katya…”

“I’m Edith.”

“Edith. You are the one. You know. You are the one for me. We belong together. I’m not going to let anything get between us.”

“You have to let me go, Ivan.”

“I can’t let you leave me. I won’t lose you.”

“I…I want to help you with your mission. You’re right. You’re the only one brave enough to do what needs to be done. I see that now. I should have seen it sooner.”

“I knew you’d come around.” He turned back to me and smiled. His teeth and eyes glittered in the pale light in the car. “It’s going to take time. I need to know for sure that you are prepared to go the distance.” He pulled off the road and parked.

“Where are we?” I asked in a low voice.

“We’ve arrived at the home of Nathan Turner. He raped his cousin from the time she was eight until she turned him in at thirteen. He served five years. Can you believe that?”

“It’s not right,” I said, pulling at the rope around my wrists.

“The justice system is corrupt. The world needs me. The Seattle Slayer is judge, jury, and executioner. Without men like me, the world would fall into complete darkness.”

“Let me help you,” I said.

Ivan picked up a pair of binoculars and peered through the windshield. “I’d love to bring you along. Maybe in the future. But you don’t know what you’re doing yet. I can’t trust that you’ll stay quiet.”

The man Ivan was targeting was far from a saint. But murder was murder, no matter what the victim might have done. “How can I prove to you that I’m on your side?”

“Don’t worry. I know you will come around. Just not today. You’ll have to stay here. I’ll go in first and bring you in later. Then you can see my work.”

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After receiving a signed affidavit from Hana Cho, Leland was able to proceed with what his gut had told him since he’d received those photos from Edith almost two days ago. His office put out an APB on Ivan Kozlov. And he was in the process of obtaining a warrant to search the man’s apartment and track his cellphone.

Since Edith was missing and was believed to have been abducted by the suspect, Leland had been able to request a warrant for her cellphone data as well. He was in his office waiting for the go ahead from the DA to enter Ivan Kozlov’s apartment. The warrant for Edith Parks’ cellphone data came through first and the cellular company quickly sent the information.

Her last known location was at Kozlov’s apartment, but the location just prior was at a burger place in SeaTac. Leland wanted to investigate the location while waiting for the warrant for Ivan’s apartment.

He drove out to SeaTac, pulled into the burger place’s parking lot, and immediately spotted Edith’s 1999 Honda Accord. He pulled up beside it and noticed it had a ticket and a threat to tow tucked under the windshield wipers.

He knew what car she drove from his background checks. It was her license plate number. He got out beside the vehicle and circled around it. He inspected the windshield, glanced at the tickets, and ran his hand over the hood.

Using a trick he’d learned in the military, he slid a metal wire into her driver’s side window and pulled open the lock. It was an easy thing to do with an older model car. The lock popped open, and he slipped inside. He slid on a pair of latex gloves and looked around the car. Finding nothing of importance, he popped open the hood to look inside.

She’d abandoned her car for some reason. Leland opened the hood and looked around. Within moments, he noticed one of her sparkplugs had been removed, making the car undrivable. No wonder she’d left it. Ivan must have lured her to a restaurant too far from the bus line to walk and offered her a ride home.

Leland slammed the hood closed and locked up her car. When he climbed behind the wheel of his own vehicle, he’d received notice that the warrant for Ivan’s apartment had been obtained and SWAT was ready to move in. He sent messages to his SAC and the SWAT team commander, informing them that he was on his way. He then started the drive north to Ivan Kozlov’s Uptown apartment.

The team was there when he arrived, preparing to enter the building. At the apartment, the team leader smashed open the door. Leland wore his bulletproof vest, his Glock held at the ready in his hands. They burst inside, securing each room in turn.

As suspected, there was no one there. Once the apartment was fully secured, forensics teams moved in to collect evidence. Ivan’s computers were taken. Edith’s cellphone was smashed, and the SIM card was missing. The shoes and shrine were found and bagged.

With each move, Leland was getting closer to the killer. But there was still no indication of where the man had taken Edith. He stood in the upscale apartment, taking in the scene, and glanced at the view of Elliot Bay out the living room window.

This was the home of the man Edith had been attracted to. The man she’d been involved with for the last eight months. Clearly, Ivan Kozlov was good at masking his personality. He’d fooled Edith and everyone else around him.

Now that law enforcement was closing in, the man would escalate. If he associated Edith with his sister, potentially the originating trauma that caused his violent behaviors, he would be less likely to hurt her. But that was not a guarantee.

Edith was in grave danger. If he’d been less hesitant, he might have been able to protect her. She’d gone to meet Ivan in a public place. She’d trusted him to give her a ride home. Ivan had then lured her back to his apartment and kidnapped her.

He hoped that the IT teams would find information on Ivan’s computers that would give him some clue as to where the man had taken her. Whatever it was that Ivan wanted from Edith while he escalated would most likely traumatize her for life.

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Twenty years of secrets. One night of reckoning.

Criminal profiler Dr. Edith Ward thought returning to her hometown of Bain Island would offer a fresh start. Instead, she finds herself thrust into a nightmare when a series of brutal murders rocks the small community, eerily connected to a twenty-year-old cold case.

Teaming up with Sheriff Devon James, Edith must confront the ghosts of her past while racing to catch a killer. As she delves deeper into the investigation, Edith realizes the murders are hitting closer to home than she ever imagined. With her unique insight into the criminal mind, she becomes both the island's best hope and the killer's potential next target.

Balancing her role in the high-stakes investigation with the challenges of single motherhood and her own traumatic history, Edith finds herself pushed to the brink. Can she trust her instincts to unmask a murderer, or will her return to Bain Island be her undoing?

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I wasn’t sure how long I’d been chained up in the cabin. I’d phased in and out of consciousness throughout the night and into the next day. I wasn’t even sure what day it was. Ivan had been keeping me drugged, and I could barely get up to use the restroom or drink the water he left beside the bed.

I dreamed of Gran and Summer. Thought of Lilly and Cole. I wanted to see them grow up. I wanted to make the world a safer place for them. I’d failed so miserably at my job. All these years, I’d been studying the criminal mind and hadn’t seen it when it was right in front of me.

I’d never make that mistake again. I thought of Leland. I’d sent him the photographs. Would he understand what it all meant? Would he come for me? I couldn’t expect Leland to save me. I had to somehow save myself. But how? I had no weapons. No handcuffs. I was drugged and chained to a bed. There was nothing I could do.

What I did have was my mind. I had my ability to communicate and to understand motivation. Now that I knew who Ivan was and why he wanted me, I could use that information to convince him to let me go.

I had to get him talking. I needed him to tell me more about his sister Katya. He’d been confusing me for her since I’d woken up in the cabin. Ivan was in the throes of a psychotic break. Perhaps there was nothing that I could do to talk him down. But if there was, I would find it.

I was his stand in for the sister he must have lost. I was his trigger. I rolled over on my side and pulled my knees toward my chest. I hated that I had been the cause of so much death. A bitter taste rose in my throat. At least I knew he was unlikely to hurt me. That would allow me to dig more deeply into his mind. He wanted to protect me, not harm me, but I might not be able to escape his protection.

The door swung open, and Ivan stood above me at the edge of the bed. “You’re awake,” he said brightly. “I’ve got a surprise for you, my love.”

“Surprise?” My voice was rough and dry.

He pulled me up to sit beside him on the bed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. While stroking my cheek, he looked lovingly into my eyes. “I’m going to show you want I am willing to do to protect you.”

Alarm bells when off in my head, but I tried to remain calm. “I don’t need you to show me. I already know.”

“I know you. You need to see something to believe it, Katya.”

“I’m Edith, Ivan.”

“Of course you are, sweety.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, squeezing me closer to him. “You are so precious to me. I’m always going to keep you by my side. We will be together forever. I wish I’d been a better man for you. I thought I’d been giving you exactly what you wanted. But then I found out about that FBI agent. You want him more than me. But that’s my fault. I made a mistake. I thought you wanted to have a good time. Party. Go on adventures and make love. You wanted something else. Someday, we will have a family together. I should have focused on being the man you would want to spend the rest of your life with.”

“We had good times together Ivan.” I patted his knee. “We didn’t need to try to make it anything else.”

“Oh, that’s a lie, Edith. You know it’s a lie. You wanted to leave me. But I know now that it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I didn’t give you what you wanted. I’ll never make that mistake again. That’s why I’m now going to show you what I’d do for you. You need to understand how committed I am to protecting you from the evil in the world.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I do,” he said, grabbing me and holding me tight. I squirmed in his grasp but the hypodermic needle he’d had in his pocket moved toward me, nonetheless. “I’m going to show you. Then you’ll understand.”

He pushed the needle into my flesh. The drugs entered my veins, and the lights went out on my world for the second time.

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Twenty years of secrets. One night of reckoning.

Criminal profiler Dr. Edith Ward thought returning to her hometown of Bain Island would offer a fresh start. Instead, she finds herself thrust into a nightmare when a series of brutal murders rocks the small community, eerily connected to a twenty-year-old cold case.

Teaming up with Sheriff Devon James, Edith must confront the ghosts of her past while racing to catch a killer. As she delves deeper into the investigation, Edith realizes the murders are hitting closer to home than she ever imagined. With her unique insight into the criminal mind, she becomes both the island's best hope and the killer's potential next target.

Balancing her role in the high-stakes investigation with the challenges of single motherhood and her own traumatic history, Edith finds herself pushed to the brink. Can she trust her instincts to unmask a murderer, or will her return to Bain Island be her undoing?

Leland spent hours poring over the case before returning home for the night. He got a few hours of sleep and was up and out the door again. He hadn’t heard anything from Edith, and he was becoming increasingly concerned about her safety. He called her work went arriving at his office and discovered that she hadn’t shown up or called in.

New data had arrived on his desk from the IT techs. They had traced the Slayer’s last victim’s computer search data to an escort website. Although login credentials had not been recovered. He was able to find contact information for the owner of the escort site. After meeting with his SAC, and obtaining a warrant, he drove out to the site’s primary location in Tacoma.

When he knocked on the door of the beige suburban home, a tiny Asian woman answered the door. She looked like she was about eighteen years old. He flashed his badge and the woman’s eyes went wide. “I need to speak with Harry Chase.”

“Wait here,” she said in a heavily accented voice.

Leland nodded. The woman closed the door and left him waiting on the front step. Escort sites had been the primary vehicle for prostitution in the area for over a decade. With the northern climate and the advent of the internet, sex workers rarely stood on street corners anymore. A moment later, a Caucasian man in his late fifties answered the door. His large belly hung over the waist of his khaki pants, straining his pink striped polo shirt.

“I’m Special Agent Leland Ward. I have a warrant for the client data for Hot Young Escorts.” Leland pulled the warrant from his breast pocket and showed it to Harry Chase.

The man frowned and crossed his arms, still not wanting to allow Leland inside. “We don’t keep client data. What is this about?”

“I’m investigating the Seattle Slayer case. Your site was found in the internet search results of the most recent victim. Can we speak inside?”

The man muttered and opened the door for Leland to step through. The girl he’d seen earlier had disappeared. “What can I do for you?” Harry Chase eyed Leland. “Like I said outside, we don’t keep client information.”

“How do you schedule meetings?”

“The girls do that through an app on their phones.”

“Don’t you vet the men you send them out with?”

“It’s none of my business what they get up to. Clients create a username on the site. Payments go through a third party. Girls connect with clients through an app. Everything is anonymous. I pay for hosting and advertising. The girls get a fifty percent split.”

“How generous,” Leland said.

“All we sell are dates. If the girls sleep with their clients, that’s not my business. They can do what they want on their own time.”

“Right. I’m going to need to contact information for your girls.”

“Let me read that warrant,” the man said.

Leland handed him the piece of paper. Harry led Leland to an office on the bottom floor. He sat behind the computer and woke it up. “All my girls are over eighteen,” he said. “I get ID verification for all of them.”

“Of course,” Leland said, waiting for the information he needed.

Harry sent a spreadsheet document to the printer. The sound of it filled the silence. When it was finished, the man snatched the papers from the printer and shoved them into Leland’s face.

“I don’t have any responsibility for what happens on a date. It’s all in the contract. I included it at the top of the pile.”

“One of these women might be the link to a killer.”

“What do I care? The Seattle Slayer is making the streets safer for my girls.”

“My team will be arriving for the digital files. Thanks for your time.”

Harry Chase grumbled as Leland left the office. The rest of the team had pulled up in a van as Leland stepped out the door. They’d go over the man’s website backend with a fine-tooth comb. But for now, Leland had a lead to go on. One of the women on the list might be connected to the victim. She might be able to ID the killer if he had given her medical treatment.

It was a stretch, but his gut was telling him this was the lead he’d been waiting for. Time was of the essence with Edith missing. They needed evidence to connect Ivan Kozlov to the killings. There was nothing he could legally do until he found it, even with Edith’s life hanging in the balance.

He’d sent the photo of the sneakers to forensics. It was a vague match to the prints they’d found at the crime scenes. But without the actual shoes, it was impossible to get an exact match. The photos of Edith and the other woman were meaningless in the eyes of the law.

He needed something to connect Ivan Kozlov to the latest victim, and he hoped he could get one of the women on Harry Chase’s site to ID him. It was a long shot, but it was all he had to go on at that moment.

He wasn’t going to take any chances with Edith’s life. She believed that her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—was the killer. She was a gifted future profiler. He didn’t believe she would jump to conclusions. Especially about someone she’d cared about. Edith was too proficient and competent a psychologist for that.

He went back to his car as the forensics team walked into Harry Chase’s house. They might find information that the man hadn’t been willing to give up to Leland. Nevertheless, he had a list of potential witnesses.

He sat behind the wheel of his car and read the names on the spreadsheet. There were a few hundred of them. Luckily, there was a field that indicated the date of the woman’s last appointment and the username of her client. IT hadn’t been able to find any login credentials for the victim. But that was not an indication that he hadn’t been a client. Only that he’d successfully concealed it.

Without a specific name to start with, Leland would have to contact all of them. He was about to drive back to the office to start making calls when he heard a knock on the passenger window.

The tiny Asian woman stood on the sidewalk beside his car. He rolled down the window and asked her what she wanted. “I think I know who you’re looking for.”

“Who?” he said, pulling out a pen to circle a name on the list.

“She’s not on there. She’s not in the system. Too young to work. No ID.”

“Tell me.”

“She goes by Hana Cho. Only sixteen years old.”

“How can I find her?”

“She works with a girl who goes by Lana Rose. She’s on the list.” The woman looked over her shoulder and hurried back to the house.

Leland searched the list for Lana Rose. The woman’s last appointment was two weeks ago. Luckily, there was a phone number. Leland dialed it and a woman’s sultry voice answered.

“This is Special Agent Leland Ward with the FBI. I’m investigating the Seattle Slayer case. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your work with Hot Young Escorts.”

“What do you want to know?” the woman said, her tone going flat.

“Do you know someone named Hana Cho.”

“What about her?”

“Has she had any medical issues recently?” Leland knew this contact could bolt at any moment, leaving him with no way of finding her without having to go through a labyrinth of paperwork.

Lana sighed. “Hana got beat up pretty bad a week ago.”

“Can I speak with her?”

“She’s not here.”

“Do you have contact information?”

“I was doing her a favor. Okay. If there’s a problem, it’s not my fault.”

“I’m trying to find a killer, not pin you for anything.” Leland gritted his teeth. This case had become personal. His feelings for Edith were clouding his judgment, but he had to find her. If she was hurt, he would never forgive himself. “I believe the man responsible has kidnapped a friend of mine. If anything happens to her… I need an ID on this guy so we can catch him.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be the reason another woman gets hurt.” She spouted off the address and the phone went dead. Leland sucked a breath through his teeth, entered the address into his GPS and started his vehicle.

When he arrived at the location, he parked in front of the crumbling six-story brick building and climbed out of the car. After holding the door for a mother with three children, Leland slipped inside. He stepped into a rickety elevator that smelled of sweat and urine and took it to the fourth floor.

At the woman’s door, he hesitated. She could be the person who finally broke the case. He had to handle things diplomatically. Unlike Harry Chase, Hana Cho had no obligation to speak to him. If she chose to lie in order to protect herself, there was little he could do to get the truth out of her. His guess was that this woman was either underage, in the country illegally, or both.

He knocked, hoping she was home but prepared for there to be no answer. He heard movement behind the door. It slid open a sliver as an adolescent looking Asian woman with a black eye and swollen lip peered out through the crack. She’d left the chain up, protecting herself from the unknown visitor.

“What?” she asked with a thick Korean accent. She took in Leland’s dark, tailored suit and polished appearance and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hana Cho?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“My name is Leland Ward with the FBI.” He flashed his badge. “I’m investigating the Seattle Slayer murders.”

“I have nothing to do with that.”

“Have you ever interacted with this man?” he asked, holding up a photograph of Ivan Kozlov. Her eyes widened with recognition, and Leland knew that she had interacted with him. “Is he the one who stitched up those cuts on your head?”

Her slim fingers went to the gash that had recently been stitched. “Why?”

“Where you on a date with this man the night you met the doctor?” Leland showed her a photo of the most recent victim. Hana’s eyes grew moist, and she clenched her jaw. “I can help you if you help me, Hana. Do you need papers? Help with immigration? I’m an FBI Agent. I can get you the resources you need to start a better life.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I’m trying to catch a killer. Not destroy the life of a vulnerable young woman. Do you understand?” She nodded once, pursing her swollen lips. “That’s the man who hurt me.”

“How did you meet the doctor?” He held up the photograph of Ivan again.

“The one who hurt me dumped me out of his car. I was bleeding. He did so many bad things, I could barely walk. I couldn’t go to the hospital. No money. No ID. Nothing. This man, he said he could help me. He was a doctor. Cleaned my wounds in his car.”

“Where did he find you?”

“Industrial District. Near the water.”

“And the doctor just walked up to you out of nowhere?”

“Yes. I don’t know what he was doing. Maybe waiting for something.”

“What kind of car did he drive?”

“Black Range Rover.” Bingo. That was Ivan Kozlov’s car. “He helped me. Stitched my wounds. Gave me a ride home.”

“Thank you, Hana. You’ve been an excellent help. This is my card. I will be in touch.”

Hana closed the door of her apartment and Leland took the elevator back down to the first floor. He had what he needed. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

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I woke up with a splitting headache. The smell of the bed below me was strange and musty. I picked myself up from the lumpy mattress, not remembering where I was. Had Ivan and I gone out the night before and ended up in a cheap hotel?

Memories flooded my mind. The shoes. The photographs. I gasped, my eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. I was in a small rustic room. The windows were pitch black. I slung my feet over the bed, and something clanged on the floor.

I looked at my feet and found one of my ankles was bound to a chain attached to the bed post. My heart slammed in my chest. I blinked, trying to make sense of my surroundings. After standing carefully, I took a step toward the window, wanting to see where I was. The chain dragged along the wooden floor behind me.

I was several feet from the window when the chain pulled taut. I couldn’t move an inch more. I rubbed my pounding head, panic setting in. I couldn’t see anything out the dark window. The dim light of the lamp beside the bed glared in the glass.

“Ivan?” I whispered, my mouth full of cotton.

I remembered the prick of the needle in my neck. He’d drugged me. What did he want? Where was he? I moved toward the door, gripping the handle. It didn’t budge. I let it go, taking a step back. He’d kidnapped me.

I shook my head, trying to straighten out my thoughts. The photographs. I was his dead sister. Jason hadn’t made it up. She had been his original trauma. She must have been assaulted at some point in his past. All the men he’d killed, they were all stand ins for the person or people who had hurt her.

I had to find a way to talk him down. I had to convince him to let me go. But knowing what I did about the Slayer, I didn’t know if there was any chance I could. He clearly had an obsession. That obsession was me. The door swung open. He stood in the doorframe, illuminated by the bright lights behind him.

“Ivan…”

“You’re awake.”

He stepped forward and gathered me in his arms. I was so stunned I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t fight. I didn’t push him away. I knew it wouldn’t help.

“Ivan. Where am I?”

“I brought you somewhere safe. I’m going to protect you this time. No one is going to take you away from me ever again.”

“Protect me from what?”

“There are so many violent men in this world. Men who hurt beautiful women like you. I won’t let them. I’ll destroy them all before they ever get a chance to touch you.”

He held me tighter. My heart thrashed like a frightened little bird caught in a snare. “I appreciate you wanting to protect me. It’s very noble.” I knew now that Ivan had to be the Slayer. All the pieces fit together. I was his trigger. I was what he believed he was fighting for. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless I threatened his delusion.

“You need protection. You need me to take care of you. I can’t let you go, Katya.”

“I’m Edith,” I said. Katya must have been his sister’s name.

“Edith. You’ve been unfaithful. I’m the only one who can protect you. Don’t you understand that? I can’t let you go.”

“Everything is going to be okay. We can work this out. I can help you.”

“We won’t be separated. Everything is going to be just as it should be.” He stood back, holding my shoulders. He looked me straight in the eye. “I won’t lose you again, Katya.”

“Edith.”

His delusion had become indistinguishable from reality. He was sinking into psychosis. I had to play along. If Ivan was having a psychotic break, he would be even more dangerous than usual.

“Why would you leave me?” He pulled me into his arms. “Don’t you understand how much I love you? You need me. I’m the only one who can take care of you. No one else understands. No one else has the courage to do what needs to be done.”

“I know. You’re a true hero. I was foolish.”

“Shh. It’s okay. We won’t be separated now, Katya. I’ll always take care of you.”

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Leland’s cellphone buzzed beside him on the couch. Tapping on the screen, he brought up his text app to find a message from Edith. “I am the dead sister. I am the trigger.”

Leland’s blood buzzed in his ears as he scrolled backward, read Edith’s other texts, and examined the pictures. Her boyfriend had size eleven Adidas sneakers and a shrine dedicated to her at the back of his closet. He rubbed his forehead, realizing that Edith believed her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—fit the profile of the Seattle Slayer. “Where are you?” he typed back.

He watched the screen, praying that the little typing bubbles would come up. Nothing happened. He pressed the call button, and it went directly to voicemail. Fear gathered in his chest. Edith was in danger. He quickly sent all the information to his team, called his contacts in the Seattle PD, grabbed his things, and started out of his apartment.

From his previous research, he’d discovered Edith’s boyfriend’s name. At that point, he’d only wanted to know if it would be appropriate to ask her out on a date. Ivan Kozlov was a surgeon at Swedish Hospital. His age and build fit the profile. Edith was right about that. Leland picked up his phone multiple times on the drive, hoping to find another text from her. She hadn’t responded.

When he made it to the FBI field office building, his phone started to ring with replies from his team. The elevator opened onto his floor, and he stepped out. “Special Agent Ward,” said Thomas Hatch, one of the analysts he worked with almost daily. “I got your messages. These texts are concerning. I’ve started the background search into Ivan Kozlov. The results are interesting.”

“Public information stops at 2001,” Thomas said, clicking through the screens. “Ivan Kozlov legally changed his name upon entering the country. He was previously known as Ivan Banovic. He came into the country in 2000 on a political asylum Visa.”

“Where was he from?” Leland asked, checking his phone repeatedly for texts from Edith. She still hadn’t responded.

“Ivan Banovic is a Yugoslavian native. He came into the country at eighteen years old. After changing his name, he was admitted to community college, were he quickly excelled.”

“What is the back story? Edith believed that the girl in the photographs was his sister. Any information on her?”

“Any information from the region at the time is severely limited due to widespread violence and civil war. I can keep trying though.”

“Thanks Thomas,” Leland said, standing from the chair. He left the analyst’s office and headed to his own down the hall. When he sat in front of his computer, he found new information on the Slayer case from the IT team. As he read over the files, Leland continued to check his phone for information from Edith. There was only so much he could do without evidence to link Ivan to the killings.

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Before leaving work on Tuesday evening, I got a text from Ivan. He wanted to meet at a burger place off the freeway in SeaTac. I had no idea why he’d want to meet at such an out of the way location, but since I’d dropped the breakup bombshell, I decided to humor him. I sent him a text telling him I’d be there in twenty minutes and started off in my car.

Having the mobility of a vehicle was a wonderful change after riding the bus for so long. I was protected from the weather and made it to my destinations far faster. I was humming along to the radio when I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant Ivan had chosen.

Inside, the place smelled of burgers and fries. I was hungry but didn’t want to order any food. We were having a post breakup conversation, and I wanted to keep things as casual as possible. I knew Ivan was upset, and I couldn’t blame him for that, even if his past was still a question for me.

I found Ivan at the back of the restaurant at a booth near the window. There were already menus set out on either side of the table. I took a seat, trying to keep a positive expression on my face. Ivan’s eyes widened when he saw me. He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his back and then pulled mine away.

“I’m so glad you agreed to meet with me. I’m sorry about last night. Let me say, I completely understand where you’re coming from. I have to agree, our relationship probably isn’t built to last a two-thousand-mile distance.”

“I’m sorry I had to do this now. I just thought it would be better to get it out in the open.”

“I get it. I do. If it were me, I’d probably do the same thing. We’re both high achievers. Sometimes sacrifices need to be made.”

“I’m so glad you understand.”

The waitress arrived to take our orders. I ordered a coffee and Ivan did the same. The waitress took our menus and moments later we were both nursing a cup of coffee.

“We had a great time together,” I said. “I don’t regret that at all. You’ve helped me come out of my shell. I’ll be eternally grateful to you for that.”

“We’ve had a lot of good times,” he said wistfully. “I’ll always remember them fondly.”

“So, no hard feelings?”

“Of course not. And I’m sorry about jumping to conclusions about your mentor. That was totally uncalled for.”

The waitress filled our coffee cups, and I stirred in a few packets of creamer. I wanted to ask about his sister because the curiosity was killing me. But the conversation had gone down a positive route, and I didn’t want to change that now. A clean break up would be so much easier to move on from than something messy and tumultuous. It was better to just leave it.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Need to use the rest room.”

Ivan stood and left the booth, disappearing into the restaurant behind me. I scrolled the news on my phone, wondering if there was any more information on the Slayer. The waitress returned with the bill, and I picked up the tab for both of us.

Ivan returned a moment later and slid into his seat. “I’m so glad we were able to work through this like mature adults,” I told him. “It makes a big difference. I really need to get home now though.”

“Sure. I’ll walk you out. Thanks for buying me coffee.” We started out of the restaurant, and he followed me to my car. We said our goodbyes, and I climbed behind the wheel. When I tried to turn over the motor, nothing happened. The lights came on, but the engine was silent. I tried again, panic rising in my chest.

I tried a third time to the same result and smashed the steering wheel with my fist. Ivan knocked on my window, and I rolled it down. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“My car won’t start.”

“Oh, shoot. That sucks.”

“I’m going to have to get it towed. But I can’t afford it until I get paid tomorrow. I am literally on my last ten dollars after paying for parking.”

“Let me give you a ride home. You can deal with the car later.”

“No. It’s fine. I’ll just get a bus.” It had started to rain, and the cold wet air was blowing through my window. Ivan pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head. I sighed and checked my phone for the nearest bus stop. It was over a mile and a half away. I groaned. “I wonder if they’ll tow it if I leave it here overnight.”

“It will be fine. Let me get you home out of this weather.”

I sighed, rolling up the window and opening the door. “Okay. Thank you. You’ve been so understanding about all this.”

“Hey, I care about you, Edith. Just because it’s time to move on from our relationship doesn’t mean I’ve stopped.”

I locked my car, feeling irresponsible for leaving it. I really hoped the restaurant wouldn’t tow it if I left it. I’d have to ask Gran for money to deal with it now. And I really didn’t want to do that.

Ivan opened the passenger door for me, and I climbed inside. It felt awkward to be in his car after we’d just broken up. But we were both adults. We could still be friends even if we weren’t seeing each other anymore.

He got behind the wheel and started up the car. A few minutes later, we were on the freeway headed north. “Since we’re headed that way, why don’t you come over to my place and pick up your stuff?” he asked. “I’ll drop you off at your apartment after.”

“Okay. Why not.” I’d left some of my things at his place. One of my favorite jackets. Some cosmetics and beauty care products that were not cheap. Might as well get them now. After today, I’d avoid seeing him until all the feelings had cooled down. But he was being so agreeable, it didn’t feel awkward to go over to his place right then.

My phone buzzed with a notification while Ivan changed the radio station. I flicked the screen, bringing up the email. It was the background check. I quickly scanned the report. It included all the things I’d expected. But there was no information on him before 2001. No parents. No hometown. No sister.

“What’s that?” he asked, taking the exit to Uptown.

“Just an email from work.” I put my phone back in my jacket pocket. Ivan’s past seemed to be a mystery I’d never solve. After today, it wouldn’t be an issue anymore. We’d broken up without any fallout. I was getting my stuff from his apartment. It was a clean break, and tomorrow I’d move on.

I had no idea what I’d do with my car. The fact that it broke down so quickly after retrieving it from Baine Island seriously pissed me off. I was still fuming about that. But I was glad Ivan had been around to give me a ride. The rain was really coming down, and I hadn’t worn a raincoat to work. I would have gotten drenched if I’d walked to the bus stop. When we arrived at his building, he parked in the building’s lot, and we took the elevator up to his floor. “I’m sorry about Jason,” Ivan said before the doors swished open.

“It’s fine. He just said some weird things.”

Ivan opened the door to his apartment, and I stepped inside. It felt strange being back here under such different circumstances. The last time we’d been together, I’d been frantic over missing him. I was glad that I’d realized how wrong we were for each other, despite how much I’d miss the thrill of our adventures together.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, stepping into the kitchen.

“Um,” I started.

“Let me make you something. I know how hungry you get after work.”

I drew my brows together. I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to. But I’d eaten the last of the Chinese last night and there was no other food in the house. “Okay. That’s nice of you. Do you have a box I could use to pack up my things?”

Ivan found me a box from a delivery order, and I walked into his bedroom while he started to work in the kitchen. I packed up all my things from the bathroom and then went back into the bedroom. I opened the closet door.

His black Adidas sneakers toppled onto the floor at my feet. I slowly bent down to pick one of them up, my heart leaping into motion. I turned it over in my hand, and something told me to check the size. It was a men’s size eleven.

Pieces of a puzzle slid together inside my mind. His missing past had triggered something inside me. A feeling I should have paid attention to before coming into the apartment. Ivan matched the Seattle Slayer’s profile. He was a big, strong thirty-two-year-old man with a high income. A surgeon who’d earned a minor in information technology. He used his charm like a scalpel on me and everyone else.

When he’d mentioned the Slayer on Saturday morning, I could tell he wanted me to confirm the killer’s hero status. He was disappointed when I didn’t. I gasped and covered my mouth. I looked behind me, the door was almost closed. Ivan was in the kitchen with no view of this room.

I pulled out my phone and snapped several pictures of the shoes. Sweat broke out on my brow. I was in the hornet’s nest. I quickly texted the photos to Leland. “Concerned about my ex-bf. He matches the profile. These are his shoes.”

I replaced the shoes and opened the other side of the closet, hoping to find my coat. I needed to get out of there. My coat was hanging on the end of the rack. I pulled it off with too much force and the hanger flipped off and hit the closet wall.

“Everything okay in there?” Ivan called from the kitchen. I could smell sautéing garlic.

“Fine. Just dropped a hanger.”

I tossed my coat in the box and reached to close the sliding door. The hanger had disturbed a board at the back of the closet. I bit my lip. I tried to pull the board back into place, but it fell away instead, revealing a hollow place behind the wall. I blinked several times into the darkness. There were images that I couldn’t make out in the shadows.

I turned on my phone’s flashlight and pointed it at the space. What I found shocked me to the core. Photographs of a girl with my face were mixed together with photographs of me. I snapped several photos of the shrine and sent them to Leland. “I am the dead sister. I am the trigger.”

My heart raced as I deleted all the photos and texts to Leland. I then turned off my phone. I needed to get out of the apartment. Just as I was about to turn, Ivan wrapped his strong arms around me from behind. I gasped, and a needle pierced the skin of my neck.

“Nighty night.” Everything went black.

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When I got home from work on Monday night, Ivan was waiting at the door of my apartment building. He trotted down the stairs toward me. The streetlights hummed in the gathering dusk. He came to stand in front of me, his eyes flashing. He caught me up with a smile on his lips. “Ivan,” I said, his mouth on my neck.

“Baby,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

“Come upstairs,” I breathed.

“Come to my place.” He held me tighter.

“Oh. I wish I could. I have so much to do.” He continued to kiss my neck and around my ears. “I’ll drive you home in the morning. And I promise I won’t keep you up too late.” His voice purred, sending vibrations through my skin.

“You aren’t making this easy.” I did want to go with him that night. But there was so much going on. We had to break up. I knew it was inevitable. His strange friend Jason confronted me in the street, and I had no idea if Ivan had found out about it. Those were conversations I didn’t possess the energy to have at that moment.

Then there was Leland. My innocent crush was getting the better of me. I’d asked him to lunch as much to spend time with him as I had to talk about the case. Ivan continued to hug and kiss me on the sidewalk. I pulled away, knowing I couldn’t go over to his house tonight. When we talked, I wanted it to be a neutral environment where we could have a rational discussion. Going to his place to party on a Monday night was not that. “I’m sorry, Ivan. I can’t tonight.”

“Then I’ll come up.” He encircled my waist, and we walked together up the steps to my building. I was fine with him coming up for a little while. It wasn’t too late in the evening. Maybe tonight was the night I could tell him about my move.

Up in my apartment, Sarah and Reina were watching TV in the living room. I was glad to see them. They would be a good distraction from the conversation I was avoiding. Everyone greeted each other. Reina’s face lit up when Ivan remembered her name. I pulled off my coat and backpack and put everything away.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked him. I wanted to make this visit quick. I’d been moving fast all weekend and needed to relax tonight. I only had a handful of reports to go over. I could easily do that while eating leftover Chinese and watching survival shows. I hadn’t had nearly enough veg time lately, and my recovery was slowing down.

“Sure. A glass of wine,” he said.

“I’m sorry, babe,” I said, searching the counters and fridge. “There’s no alcohol left.”

“Ah, that’s fine. I’m just glad to be with you.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to his chest. We were partially concealed in the kitchen when Ivan started kissing my neck again.

“I’m sorry, Ivan. I just can’t tonight. I’m so worn out, and the week just started.”

“Right. Of course. I’ll go now.”

“Let’s meet up tomorrow evening for an early dinner. I’ll meet you after work. Can you fit that into your schedule?”

“Yeah. I’ll set something up. See you then,” he said, kissing my cheek. He left the apartment, and the women sitting on the couch gave me pained looks.

“What?” I asked them.

“You sent Dr. Hottie away,” Reina said.

“He’s so into you.” Sarah sighed. “You’re so lucky.”

“I’m tired.” I rolled my eyes. “We just went out a few nights ago.”

“He just wants to spend time with you,” Reina said.

“I know. He’s a great guy. But we’re probably going to break up soon. I just need the right time to tell him.”

“What?” Reina shouted.

“No you aren’t,” Sarah said. “Can I date him?”

“I’m moving next year. I don’t think we are suited for a long-distance relationship. I just think it would be best to face that now instead of waiting or pretending it’s going to last.”

“You’re crazy,” Reina said. “He’s a catch.”

“I adore Ivan. He’s the most fun I’ve had in years. But I can’t see us being together forever. There’s just something missing. Something deeper. Maybe I’ll find that with someone else.”

“Wow, you’re right. Ivan isn’t right for you. He’s right for me,” Sarah said.

She and Reina laughed. “Maybe after I move,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”

I went to my room, reminding myself it was okay to prioritize my career. Reina and Sarah were being so adolescent about Ivan. He was just a man. A good looking, talented, charming, wealthy, intelligent man. Some people might not agree, but I needed something deeper in a relationship I expected to last a lifetime.

The fact that we were even dating was pretty amazing as it was. We didn’t have a lot in common. It seemed like we did in the beginning, but that had just been an illusion created by the love spell I’d been under. I didn’t want us to have a big emotional encounter or to part with hard feelings. What we had was fun while it lasted, but it was time for us to move on.

After I went over my reports for the hospital, I finished off the last of the Chinese I’d ordered on Friday. I had the living room to myself, so I got to watch my survival shows in peace.

One of the players on the show was a highly manipulative person. He managed every single player on the show with the skill of a criminal mastermind. How did they not see it?

Ivan’s caller ID showed up on my phone as it buzzed from the coffee table. I cringed and picked it up. I wanted to send it to voicemail. Then I thought that maybe it was a good time to have the conversation. The phone might be the best way to handle it. “Hello,” I answered.

“Hi, baby. How are you?” His voice dripped sex.

“I’m good. Just vegging out in front of the TV tonight. Getting some R&R.”

“Good. I’m so glad my baby is relaxing.”

“Yeah. Look Ivan. I have something I need to talk to you about.”

“What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I was just selected for a prestigious fellowship in Philadelphia next year. I’ll be moving in the spring. I think it would probably be better for us if we cooled off our relationship now. Maybe see other people. Or just make a clean break. I don’t want us to try a long-distance thing. I just don’t think it will work.”

“Edith. I don’t know what to say. You’ve blindsided me. I love you… I thought you were the one. Now you’re running away on me?”

He’d told me he loves me before. I’ve said it too. But it never felt like real love to me. Just desperation and adrenaline. There are things in my life that mean much more to me.

“Why do you need to go? You can already be licensed as a psychologist. What else do you need?”

“I have goals.”

“Is this about the man you were with at Teriyaki Joe’s on Sunday?”

My mouth dropped and I choked up. “So, Jason did tell you.”

“Who is that man?”

“He is Special Agent Leland Ward of the FBI. He is teaching a criminal psychology seminar for my internship. He was generous enough to meet me in person to answer my questions.”

“Jason said you two looked pretty cozy. Are you seeing him?”

“Our relationship is purely professional.” My face burned.

“I can’t ignore the fact that these two events are happening at the same time, Edith. Have you been cheating on me?”

“Are you suggesting I’m lying?” My voice rose in reaction to his disrespect.

“I’m sorry, baby. My heart is kind of breaking right now. It’s making me think all kinds of crazy thoughts. I really want to see you.”

“We can talk tomorrow after work. I’ve got to go now.”

I hung up the phone, feeling terrible. I sighed and went to my room to find the pint of Gray Goose vodka I kept hidden in my closet. Even workaholic nerds needed to unwind once in a while, so I kept the good liquor hidden from my roommate. I took a swig from the bottle. Fire slid down my throat followed by a warmth in my chest and looseness in my limbs.

I sat down on my bed and took another sip. Leland Ward’s rugged face flashed before my mind’s eye. The warmth of the vodka rose in my chest. That was a man I could imagine spending my life with.

I groaned at myself, taking another small sip from my bottle. I knew I was using Leland as a rebound fantasy to help me get over Ivan. I set the bottle on the bedside table and laid down on my bed. Looking at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraled.

“You look just like her.” The conversation with Jason Baum played back through my mind.

I stood from my bed, grabbed my bottle of vodka and went to my computer. Ivan had never told me about a sister. Who was she? As a civilian, I didn’t have any better access to information than anyone else on the internet in 2013. But I did have my skill as a forensic psychologist. I understood how to follow clues. And I understood human psychology.

I did a deep web search on Ivan Kozlov, using the information I knew about him. His name, address, occupation, the kind of car he drove. His social media accounts. Some of his friends.

After several hours of searching and a few more small swigs of Gray Goose, I paid a company thirty dollars to do a background search. I was limited to what I could find on his social media profiles and what public records were available online. These background check companies had greater access than I did, but it wasn’t instant. After I entered my credit card information, and completed my order, I felt like maybe I was overreacting.

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Samantha made a lot of expensive demands about the funeral. Finally, I arranged to have Atlas cremated, and I booked the funeral parlor in town for the eulogy and reception.

The morning of the event, I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, dressed in black. Atlas hovered around the room, fretting about who was going to be there. "This is going to make it worse," he moaned. "All those people, judging me—good or bad. They’ll make the ooze grow."

"Those are your own fears. You need to forgive yourself."

"That doesn't work."

"Okay. Well, you don't have to come to the funeral."

In the last week, our house started to show signs of haunting. We had creaking stairs and strange voices at night. And I’d started seeing other ghosts. Unfortunately, it was me Atlas had attached to, so I couldn't get rid of him.

I drove Adelaide into town in silence. The parking lot of the funeral parlor was already full when I arrived. I spotted Oscar’s car. He’d come into town late last night. I parked, and my daughter and I walked into the squat square building. There was a chapel straight back and a reception room to the right.

A big photo of Atlas sat on a tripod outside the door of the room where his eulogy would be held. Adelaide and I walked inside. It was filled with Samantha's guests—people I didn't know. The funeral director had saved seats for us at the front of the room, and I found Oscar waiting for us there.

We were in the row across from Samantha and Tim and the rest of the Riggle gang. Samantha wore a wide-brimmed hat with a veil and repeatedly lifted it to dab her eyes.

Atlas’s ghost hovered over the pulpit. He didn’t seem pleased to see his friends. I raised an eyebrow at him. The black ooze was pouring in from the corners of the ceiling and floors. He hovered closer to me and sank behind my chair. "Just be cool, please," I said telepathically.

"This is a nightmare."

"You think? It's not a walk in the park for me either. I don't even know most of these people."

The funeral director climbed to the pulpit and invited the local minister to the stage. The minister opened the funeral, and Samantha blubbered loudly. He said a few words about death and God's eternal abode, suggesting Atlas was listening to the angels sing. I tried not to laugh.

The minister called me up to give my eulogy. I cringed, still not wanting to do it. Everyone had insisted, including Samantha. I was pretty sure she wanted to embarrass me. I climbed to the podium, my ex-husband hovering behind me.

Standing in front of a crowd of strangers, I looked for someone I would recognize. There were a few people: a man I knew from the feed store, a woman from the ice cream place. Even with my memories back, I still had little connection to the town.

As I gave my eulogy, I tried to give voice to the small moments of harmony in our relationship. I glossed over the affair. I spoke of us growing apart and moving our separate ways. Samantha clucked in her seat below me. Atlas moaned and wrung his hands. I closed the eulogy and took my seat.

The next to speak was Samantha. She sauntered onto the stage in high heels and a form-fitting black dress. She lifted her veil, revealing a face streaked with tear-stained mascara.

She launched into a speech about the perfect love that she and Atlas shared. They were soulmates meant to be together for all of time, but "an obstacle" had kept them apart. She said this while staring straight at my face. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Was it really that transcendent?" I asked Atlas telepathically.

"I just kind of live in the moment and do what feels good," he said, hiding behind my chair.

I sighed loudly, and Samantha stopped mid-sentence to glare at me. I quickly dabbed my eyes and made a sobbing sound. She clucked and continued her story about their grand life plans. I shook my head, imagining Atlas engaging in the great adventures she had planned for them.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

This setup was getting old. I needed to find a way to help Atlas move on, if there was an “on” for him to move to. Samantha finished her eulogy and sauntered off the podium. She made sure everyone in the funeral parlor knew I was an undeserving harpy who had destroyed a good man.

After Samantha, Tim took the stage, recounting stories of their extended hunting and fishing trips, which mostly involved running away from home and me. He couldn't just come out and say I was Satan in front of the whole town. I was sure it had been said behind closed doors many times before. Now, I was hearing it out loud.

My son gave his speech, and I couldn't help but feel like he was on the town's side against me. Adelaide took my hand, and we endured the rest of the eulogies. My daughter had chosen not to speak, and the rest of the people involved allowed her to stay silent.

After the funeral, the director invited us to share our stories about Atlas in the reception room where refreshments would be served. There was a buffet table set up against the wall with food and drinks, dining tables and chairs.

I grabbed a can of soda and chugged it down. Oscar went to stand beside Samantha. She glared at me and preened over my son. Adelaide filled her plate with cookies, and Atlas clung to me like his life depended on it.

"Isn't it time to go home?" Atlas begged.

“I think it’s time for you to move on."

"I can't," he yelled.

I didn’t want to hang out any longer, so I drove my daughter home. When we got there, I changed into rubber boots, let Sunny out, and followed her across the gravel yard. The sheep had all been sold, and the fields were empty. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in the past year.

The Weaver's voice echoed in my mind. "Now that you’ve mastered the artificial Tree of Life, it is time to begin cleaning it up."

"Will that help Atlas move on?”

“That will be your first lesson.” Images of the blackhole at the center of the galaxy filled my mind.

Sunny darted away, rushing through an open gate. I called after her, but she didn’t listen. In the months since I’d found her, I’d trained her to be an obedient dog. When she didn’t respond to my commands, I felt a surge of panic and confusion.

I started after her in my rubber boots and black funeral dress, rushing through the field. Sunny was fast and decisive, not looking back or hesitating as she ran toward the forest. I called her again, commanded her to stop, to come, to stay, but she wouldn’t yield.

She rushed under the fence at the back of the field, headed into the forest. I climbed through the fence, tucking my dress around my thighs. Sunny barked in the distance, but I’d lost sight of her behind the trees.

“Sunny!” I demanded, my breath coming in heavy pants. “What are you doing?”

Had she caught the scent of a rabbit or a deer? It didn’t explain why she was ignoring me. I could have her five feet from a group of sheep, and she wouldn’t budge unless I told her. This was very strange behavior.

“What’s going on with my dog?” I asked the Weaver, my feet slipping in my stockings inside my rubber boots.

“She’s taking you back to the beginning,” the Weaver said.

I grunted when I found Sunny in front of Atlas’s cave. She sat and stayed by the entrance, looking back at me for direction. I let out a long sigh as I came to stand beside her. Leaning down to pet her, I asked her what she was doing.

“Why are we here?” Atlas said, hovering beside me.

I hadn’t been back to the cave since Lilith had come to me. The confinement of the interior of the earth made me extremely uncomfortable.

“This is where my journey started,” I said, stepping across the threshold into the darkness.

“I don’t want to go in there,” he said, wringing his hands.

“Come,” I said, waving him forward. “This is where we must now go.”

“Anastasia… I don’t want to.”

“This is the end, Atlas.”

The deep scent of minerals filled my nostrils as I stepped into the mouth of the cave. A wave of understanding washed over me, and I knew exactly how to send him home. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned on the flashlight. Sunny heeled at my side while Atlas hovered beside me.

“Don’t you need to pack?” he whimpered.

Adelaide and I were moving. The temporary storage unit would be delivered tomorrow, and our things would then be shipped across the country where my new home was waiting.

“You aren’t coming with me, Atlas. I need to leave you behind. There is no room for you in my new life.”

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he wailed.

I wanted to tell him he should have thought about that before all the terrible things he did to me while he was alive. I turned to him, his ghostly form hovering near my right shoulder. Atlas was dead. His time on earth was over. And now I needed to put him to rest. “You won’t have to do anything,” I told him, continuing along the rocky ground. “You’ll be at rest where you’re going.”

“Where am I going?”

I didn’t respond, and I could feel his agitation as I continued deeper into the cave. I knew what I needed to do and where I needed to go. The information was downloaded directly into my brain. I came to the nook in the wall where I’d first encountered the Adversary, turned off my flashlight, and waited. The darkness was absolute.

“I don’t like this,” Atlas whimpered.

Sunny sat quietly at my side. “It’s alright,” I told him. “You’re going home.”

He continued to make whimpering sounds as I waited. The muggy dampness of the cave was thick against the summer sweat on my skin. “Show yourself,” I demanded. “I’ve come to make an offering.”

“What?” Atlas moaned.

The black robed man appeared before me. His face strangely familiar. The trident rose from his head as a smile curved on his lips. “This is my husband. My lover. My groom.”

“He never loved you.” The Adversary barked with laughter.

“He belonged to you in life. In death, I offer him to you.”

“I already own him,” the Adversary stepped closer, a wicked smile on his lips.

“I don’t agree to this,” Atlas wailed, hiding behind me.

“Come get him,” I said.

The Adversary reached for Atlas. Sunny barked. I drew my hands together and then pulled them apart, creating a portal between them. As the Adversary grabbed Atlas, I opened the portal wider, calling on the Weaver.

Between my palms, the blackhole at the center of the galaxy swirled with infinite potentiality. Atlas tried to run away, but the Adversary held his overalls in his clawed hands.

I blew out a deep breath, blowing both men into the portal. It began to pull them in. The Adversary screamed. “This isn’t over!”

Atlas stared at me with wide eyes, full of hurt and betrayal. His face and body tore apart as the void sucked him in. “Goodbye, Atlas. I now return you home, to the womb of the Weaver.”

The dark ooze that had been following him was sucked into the portal as if pulled by a high-powered vacuum. The shadows and shame inside Atlas flew into the dark-light of the blackhole. The Adversary lost his hold and went swirling into the cosmic sea. Atlas’s face and body disintegrated as he lost his hold on me and fell into the deep darkness of the Mother of all things.

A tear slid down my face, and I let out a sob. Cold wind blew over my hair and face as I began to close the portal. When my hands moved together, a tiny ball of light emerged in the darkness. It hovered over my hands when I finally slapped them closed.

The tiny light floated before me in the cave, illuminating the walls. It flitted around me, caressing my cheek. I knew what it was—a little spark of Atlas’s pure soul. I opened my hand and let it rest on my palm.

I felt love radiating from the light. More tears poured from my eyes as I brought the light to my lips and kissed it one last time. I could feel his gratitude, his warmth, and the deep love he’d never been able to share with me in life.

The Mother’s womb had removed all the attachments, karma, patterns, and agreements he’d held over lifetimes. His soul was purified.

“You’re free,” I said, lifting my hand into the air.

The little light twinkled, twirling over my palm. It fluttered above me, floating like a jellyfish. Radiating love and joy, it disappeared through the ceiling of the cave. “We’re both free now,” I whispered.

As I emerged into the afternoon sunlight outside the cave, the world seemed imbued with a new kind of light. The warmth of love radiated down from the sun. The trees whispered ancient invocations of praise to all life. I let out a long sigh of relief and contentment.

“Well done, initiate. You now have the tools to cleanse this realm of all judgments and contracts, to free trapped souls, and to spread the living light throughout the world.”

“I’m ready,” I said, Sunny at my side. “Let’s do this.”

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"Is he going to be okay?" Adelaide asked as we drove down the road.

"I don't know," I said in a low voice.

We'd squared Sunny away in the house with food and water and packed up snacks and devices to keep us occupied while we waited for news. I still felt responsible for Atlas somehow. And I knew Adelaide would want to be there for her dad.

We pulled up in front of the hospital, and I could tell Adelaide was nervous. We found our way into the emergency department, and I checked in at the front desk. The nurse told me that Atlas was being prepped for surgery. So, we sat in a waiting room that was crowded with suffering and sick patients.

"I'm really worried," Adelaide said.

"Me too.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She leaned against me, and I kissed the top of her head. I hated that this was happening to her.

I closed my eyes and fell through space time until I was looking down from the ceiling of the operating room. Atlas was on the table. The medical crew crowded around him. The heart surgeon held a scalpel over his chest.

The surgeon’s head glowed with translucent white light, emanating from his skull like a trident. I was blinded by it as he sliced into Atlas’s chest. Blood spread from the wound, and I was knocked out of the room. I gasped as I opened my eyes.

Adelaide looked up from her phone. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just worried," I said. "Let's think positive thoughts for your dad."

We held hands and closed our eyes, both of us praying that he would be alright.

"What's done is done," the Weaver whispered. "You cannot change it now."

"What is going to happen to him?” I was worried for his soul. I’d seen the places where people got trapped in the astral realm. It wasn’t pretty. I didn’t want that for Atlas. I had loved him once.

I knew that the parts of him I'd sacrificed so much of myself to love were the real him. Even if his soul hid behind a million lies and illusions, I loved the purity that spoke to an eternal part of myself.

With the world flipped upside down and inside out, the love between our archetypes was nothing but torment. Yet, we had a bond that could never be broken. It was the eternal magnetism of true masculine and feminine polarity. The essence of it would forever remain divine.

A tear slid down my face. I was back in the operating room. Medical equipment screamed and blinked. The crew feverishly tried to bring Atlas back to life. But his spirit hovered in the corner of the room, still wearing his overalls.

He looked shocked and dismayed as he stared down at the medical crew. When he spotted me, he rushed to my side. "Anastasia! What happened? Why are we at the hospital?"

"I think you had a heart attack," I said.

"How can I be down on the bed if I’m up here with you?”

"I think you died.”

The medical crew called the time of death over the corpse. Atlas gasped audibly as the news sank in. "I can't be dead! I'm talking!"

"You’re a spirit."

"I don’t believe in those things."

Black slime began to ooze from the corners of the room. I grimaced, recognizing the calling card of the hell realms. The slime began to seep toward Atlas. "I think it's here for you.”

"You have to help me," he moaned.

I took a gasping breath and opened my eyes. I was back in the waiting room, and the surgeon was walking towards me. I blinked, trying to prepare myself for the news.

"Are you Atlas Morgan's wife?" the doctor asked.

"Soon-to-be ex-wife. I'm his girlfriend. He lives with me." Samantha charged toward us with brash gusto. She crossed her arms and switched her hips, glaring at me.

“Is Dad okay?" Adelaide pleaded.

"I'm sorry to inform you all, Mr. Morgan died on the operating table at 3:33 p.m. Here is the card to the morgue. Funerary services can be arranged through them. I'm sorry for your loss. Father White will come to comfort you in your grief.” The man turned away and walked out of the waiting room. Adelaide burst into tears and fell into my arms.

Samantha bellowed. "Oh, my poor Pookie!" She covered her face and cried. "Since the divorce wasn’t finalized, I guess that means you're giving his funeral." She frowned at me and walked away.

"Mom," Adelaide moaned.

"It's all right sweetheart. It's going to be okay."

I held her tight, and we cried in each other's arms. A moment later, a man in a black suit and a white priest’s collar approached. The horns of the trident crown rose from his head. He held a black book in his hands.

"Mrs. Morgan. I’m Father White. Please allow me to take you somewhere comfortable to mourn."

We followed Father White down a long corridor and into the hospital chapel. Candles flickered under a large cross bearing the bleeding savior. Adelaide and I took a seat in the front pew.

Father White leaned against the pulpit, gazing down at us. He grasped his book as he began to speak. "In this moment of profound loss, we can turn to God our Father for comfort and strength. He knows your pain and holds your loved one in His eternal embrace. Scripture tells us that God's throne in Heaven is a place of perfect peace and joy, where there is no more suffering or sorrow. Your beloved is now in His presence, whole and at rest. Though we grieve here on Earth, we can take solace in knowing that your loved one has been welcomed into the arms of our Heavenly Father. Let us pray for the infinite light of God's peace to surround you and for His love to sustain you through this difficult time."

I stared at the cross. Candles flickered across the priest’s face. When he looked away, I thought I saw him as a woman. The cross was opening like a portal. Cold, hard white light radiated toward me. I stood up and backed away.

“Thank you for your words,” I said. “I’m sure my loved one is at rest.”

On my way out of the chapel, I passed Atlas’s ghost. "You've got to help me," he said, following on my heels. Adelaide and I hurried down the corridor to the exit to the parking lot.

I gave Atlas a side eye as we walked through the sliding glass door. The black ooze followed him. The heat of the summer evening hit me hard after the winter chill of the hospital. I took a deep breath and waited for a beat on the sidewalk, trying to remember where I parked my car.

"I don't know what you want me to do," I said to Atlas.

"You can see me. No one else can."

I guided my daughter through the parking lot, and we got in the car. Atlas was in the backseat. "He's here," I said.

Adelaide dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Who? Dad?"

“He's behind you. He wants me to help him."

"What's wrong," she asked, looking into the backseat.

"He wants to tell you he loves you,” I said, not wanting to tell her the truth. I started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. I felt numb. Everything had happened so fast. I couldn’t believe Atlas was dead—much less a ghost in my car.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Atlas pleaded. "I wasn’t a good husband. I was jealous of you. I never believed I deserved you."

He sniffled and cried in the backseat. As we turned onto the road toward home, all three of us were crying. I pulled up in front of our house as the late summer sun cast long shadows across the farm. Adelaide went inside, and I took Sunny out to relieve herself. My ex-husband’s ghost was right on my tail.

"Are you going to follow me everywhere now?" I asked him, still shocked and numb from the turn of events. Cicadas chirped in the void.

"I don’t know what else to do. When I'm near you, that black slime doesn’t come around."

"This isn’t going to work for me.”

"I never should have cheated. I’m going to hell."

I sighed. I didn’t know exactly how death worked, but I knew souls got trapped in the astral realm. Every soul in this timeline was living in disharmony with its own nature, making it almost impossible not to get stuck in some way. Atlas seemed to be one of them.

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I stood panting and sweating in the sunlight. The cicadas blared relentlessly around me. I covered my ears, wishing I could drown it out.

The swarm buzzed through the trees, thickening the air with black bodies. They flew into my hair, a sickening sensation crawling over my skin. I swatted them away as I ran across the field, into the gravel yard, and up the porch steps to the house.

I closed the door behind me. We were under siege from the insects, and their singing filtered through the walls. I backed away from the door and wrapped my arms around myself. Adelaide came running downstairs.

"Where did all these bugs come from?" she asked.

"It’s a record breaking cicada swarm.”

"It's so gross!" she said and ran back upstairs.

While the cicadas swarmed outside, I grabbed a tub of ice cream from the freezer and turned on the TV. I chipped away at the ice cream while falling through space time with each click of my remote. My face reflected back to me ten thousand times a day. She healed and sang and danced. She led nations. She helped. She screamed. She spit fire. She painted, she saw, she wrote, she spoke the truth.

No matter where I looked, I saw myself, reconnecting the interconnected web of Her consciousness. Women in their homes, at work and on stages, shared their words, their joys, and their collective pain. The voice of rage rang out like a bell, louder than the swarm around me.

It the dam was ready to break. The human spirit could not be silenced. The injustice and brutality of the war machine marched over the innocent every day. I turned off the TV. There was no separating myself from the pain of the human collective. They were like inmates in an eternal hell they couldn’t even see. Who was going to tell them?

Before I realized it, I'd eaten the whole tub of ice cream. It was empty and the swarm had dissipated outside. I wiped the sticky residue from my lips and went outside. There were little roach sized red and black insects lying all over.

But the swarm had moved on. Atlas walked out of the barn and stared at me. Our eyes met, and he grimaced. I squinted in the sunlight and shielded my eyes with my hands, thinking he might finally talk to me. He groaned and clutched his left arm. Atlas fell to his knees and collapsed on the gravel. I rushed over to him and asked if he was alright.

His face was turning blue, and his eyes bulged out. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911. Trying to keep him responsive, I stayed on the phone with the operator until EMTs arrived.

Adelaide hovered beside us, keeping the dog company on the grass. The EMT’s lifted Atlas up on a gurney and deposited him into the ambulance. They climbed inside and closed the doors. Adelaide and I watched the ambulance drive away. What's going to happen to dad?"

“I don't know, sweetheart.”

I did know. It had been coming for some time.

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I was ready to move on with my life, but Atlas was stalling in finalizing the divorce. I was selling several large paintings a month, and the income was high enough that I could support Adelaide and myself. I didn't need the settlement to survive.

I didn't want to stay on the farm. I wanted to go back to Colorado. I brought this up with my lawyer, but she discouraged me from trying to move out of state before the settlement was complete. I decided to let it go. But continuing to live on the farm with my ex-husband coming around every day was uncomfortable.

Communication was strictly by email. If I tried to talk about anything but parenting schedules, he ignored me. The stonewalling was driving me crazy.

But I had a lot more time and privacy on my hands. I had begun to do yoga in the morning before going to the art studio and was fully integrating the knowledge of the Tree of Life.

I began to redraw the placement of the spheres, envisioning them like DNA strands, with the right and left strands spiraling around the polarity. One morning, after a yoga session, the truth of the Tree of Life unfolded in front of me. The spheres represented archetypes.

Human archetypes. They were five personality types represented in men and women. The structure moved from right to left brained. From feminine to masculine, with women on one pole and men on the other. The true hierarchy was the most feminine female leading toward divine flow, with the most left-brained male at the tail, serving as an anchor.

The beauty and symmetry of it blossomed in front of me. The dark and light were never supposed to be separated. The conscious mind was never meant to be separated from the subconscious.

The whole tree was like a battery where the polarity had been flipped and inverted, with all the energy going to holding the center.

The noise of the world was overwhelming. Millions, billions of voices, were begging to be heard. All haunted by the hungry dead in a world gone mad.

I saw the structure of the mental and emotional planes of reality. The entire astral realm opened up to me, and I saw how these dimensions intersected with our own. Each sphere and shell were trapping points, mental hang ups, snares for the soul. The angels and demons were collective thought forms, guarding the archetypes they represented.

My mind reeled from the data download. Deep fear frosted my bones, clanging like a bell. Speaking the true divine name of God was forbidden. Her eye was forever pointed at herself, keeping her still, enthralled as the forever potential. But it was her principle that ran through all life.

I became so overwhelmed with the flow of information I left the house and started running. I ran through the sheep fields, past the fence and into the forest. I needed to stop the stream of information flowing into my brain, screaming at me to save the souls of the living and the dead.

I was only responsible for myself. I had lost so much time to forgetting. I felt like a joke. I couldn't take on the burden of the rest of the world.

I ran out of breath and slowed down in the middle of the humid summer forest. Cicadas chirped in an overpowering medley. Movements circled me. The forest was alive.

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After my attorney started the divorce process, Atlas hired his own attorney and moved out of the house, only returning in the daytime to tend to the farm. The chore breakdown was delivered by email, and he didn't speak to me at all.

Adelaide had a birthday party at the house. Three of her friends spent the night watching films and laughing. Atlas gave her a gift certificate. His attorney had countered my lawyer’s initial demands, asking for full custody of our child and all the marital assets. The judge threw out the counter and scheduled another hearing in June.

I had moved back into the bedroom and was getting much better sleep. My angel and demon portraits had really taken off on social media. I had gained a decent following, and people were asking to buy my paintings. I had another art show coming up the same week as my next hearing.

Atlas's lawyer was stonewalling. Emily told me this was a common tactic to wear the other parent down. I wasn't going to let it work. I had more important things to think about.

Sunny had grown to nearly full size. Her strangely symmetrical markings turned heads whenever I took her out. I was teaching her to work sheep when Atlas wasn't around. She was a sharp and subtle dog, fierce but gentle. I loved her more each day. Keeping her was the best decision I could have made.

Adelaide spent Wednesday afternoons and Sundays with Atlas. He was living full-time with Samantha. When Adelaide was out of the house, I didn't have to make dinner and got a lot done on my business.

A week before the art show, I spent all day Sunday working on my website. When it was done, I announced it on social media. As I grabbed my purse to go pick up Adelaide, I had a notification in my inbox.

I stopped and read it on the way downstairs. It was for a sale of a painting of Lilith at a rather substantial price. It was more than the lawyer's retainer fee. I was astonished.

After I picked up Adelaide from her dad’s house, I went to my studio and began to pack up the painting. As I looked at Lilith’s gorgeous face one last time, I had a memory of the first night she’d come to me.

It was the night I’d pinned Atlas underneath me in bed and had started to consume his soul. I’d run away from it, terrified of what she would do to him, terrified of myself. I’d grown a lot since then. I understood her so much more now.

She represented the repressed divine feminine. She was free and unrestrained sexual power. She was the unmarried female who wielded her sexuality as she saw fit, for her own pleasure and for her own reward. She was predatory like a snake, always seeking her own fulfillment.

As I wrapped the canvas in packing material, I closed the door on that chapter of my life. I was done taking the fall for my own nature as a woman. It was no one's business how or who I fucked.

I wrote the address on the back of the package and then waited to print out a shipping label. I took the package down to the post office the next day and shipped it off to the buyer.

The next several weeks, I spent painting and preparing for the art show. The hearing was the day after the show, but I didn't want to miss the opening this time. I couldn't help but be nervous about all of it coming down on me at once.

On the drive into the city, the summer cornfields were lush and green. I followed the GPS to my hotel and carried my bags inside. I hoped I would meet other artists and art patrons there.

I dressed in black slacks, a burgundy chiffon blouse, and pulled my hair back into a loose bun. I wore mother-of-pearl earrings and a gold necklace with an ankh pendant resting on my chest.

I walked down to the art gallery, the evening sunlight bright on the horizon. When I arrived, I was greeted by the curator. She took my hand and thanked me for coming. She then introduced me to several other artists, and we began to converse about our work.

The show featured a lot of surrealism, modernist pop art, and stylized portraiture. After talking with the artists about our various methods and styles, we began to mingle and merge with patrons of the gallery. A young woman asked me about my portrait of Astarte.

"She’s really a personification of a universal mother goddess that dates far back into antiquity and human evolution."

"You should be ashamed of yourself," an older woman said over my right shoulder. I turned around, feeling instinctively that the barb was aimed at me. The woman stared me in the face. Her white permed hair jiggled as her husband stood resolutely beside her.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Your demon paintings are vile. God will punish the wicked."

"Most of the entities called demons are just the gods of other people," I said.

She glared at me as she passed and made her way out of the gallery. I felt baffled by the incident and had to take a moment to myself in the bathroom afterward. When I came out, several of the other artists came to support me. The curator then introduced me to a buyer who was interested in several of my paintings.

I left the party that night with six sold pieces and interest in several more. I fell asleep in the hotel bed, feeling happy and satisfied. But I couldn't help thinking about the woman who had cursed me in God’s name because of my paintings.

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I considered calling Atlas to ask him what I could expect, but I knew I was better off letting him talk to my lawyer. The more time he spent away from the farm, the better case I had for continuing to live here. He had a girlfriend to go to, and he seemed to spend every other night there already.

The next day, when he still wasn’t home in the morning, I tended to the sheep. I got Adelaide ready for school and saw her off on the bus. I cleared out the barn, checked all the feed stores, and reviewed the calendar for shipments.

After a full morning on the farm, I went inside to get ready for the appointment with my attorney. I cleaned myself up, put Sunny in a safe place in the attic, and hurried to my car.

On the way up the road, the springtime air was cool and bright under the afternoon sun. The sky was a soft blue with scattered clouds as I passed the blossoming cherry trees. I listened to a song on the radio that triggered a memory from before the accident. My body was on high alert from the emotions rushing through me.

In the memory, I was awakened at night to the sound of a car stereo, loud voices, and feet stomping downstairs. Atlas came into the room, stinking of alcohol, and put his hands on my body. I recoiled and pushed away the memories of the old me.

How had I ended up like that?

Atlas and I met at the stock show in Denver. I was working at a hotdog stand and he gave me a five-dollar tip. His eyes were so soft, like pillows I could sink into.

We bumped into each other after my shift when he was going for more hot dogs. He asked if the stand was still open. When I told him it wasn’t, we walked back to his family’s livestock pens in the barn. He showed me the sheep and introduced me to his family. He then walked me to my car.

He asked if I was working the next day and if I wanted to hang out after. I said yes. For the next three days, we spent hours walking around the conference grounds and city. On the last day, we kissed, and he asked if he could call me.

I got to the lawyer’s office, trying to clear my mind of the past. There was no point in giving in to those memories now. All it would do was distract me.

I climbed out of my car in the parking lot and hurried inside as it started to rain. I went inside and was directed to find Emily waiting in her office.

She was a brunette woman with straight brown hair to her shoulders. She wore a dark blue blazer and black pants. Gold wire-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose. She had papers laid out on her desk. She rose, and we shook hands before sitting back down.

“We’ll go over these, and then I’ll have you sign,” she said.

She explained everything involved in dissolving my marriage. She’d also drafted a preliminary parenting plan and proposed a fifty/fifty division of assets. Everything seemed fair to me.

Emily handed me each paper, and I signed as she explained it. When I was done, I felt lighter than I had in a lifetime. “Be prepared for pushback,” she said on the way to the door. “He may try to downplay your contribution or refuse to divide assets. Not to mention possible custody disputes.”

There was always the possibility that he would make this as hard as possible and drag it out as long as he could, just to make me suffer.

I left the office with my head held high, knowing I was doing what was right for my self-respect. On the way home, I was overtaken by more memories.

I remembered Atlas and I on our wedding night. It wasn’t the first time we’d made love. We’d spent days in bed when we visited each other the year before our marriage.

But there was a magical quality to our wedding night, as if two halves of a whole were coming together. A tear slid down my face, thinking of the tenderness and lust. I found out I was pregnant with Oscar soon after.

A flood of memories opened up as I pulled onto the road leading to our house. I had to stop the car in the driveway of the neighbor’s property to let the visions pass.

Years of time downloaded into my brain—the birth of my children, the pressure of in-laws, the slow dissolution of my individual identity.

I’d always been an artist. I’d been on my way to transfer to a four-year college to study art when I met Atlas.

College was expensive, and I didn’t want to take on all those loans. Besides, an art degree was useless in the job market. Better to self-teach and save the money while working on the farm…

I set out to enroll in courses in Missouri, take more classes at the YMCA, or spend my time creating. I loved the idea of living on a farm. It felt so wholesome to me, like it would be a place for me to get in touch with nature and my creative spirit.

Of course, that’s not what happened. I never took any more classes. The baby, Atlas, the farm, and housework took up the rest of my time. When Oscar was a baby, my in-laws still lived with us. His father was getting up in age and died when Oscar was still a year old.

Atlas’s mother lived with us for five more years after that, always criticizing me. She and Atlas would gang up on me for no reason. I was always being torn down for one thing or another. She finally went to live in an assisted living home and passed away ten years ago.

After Oscar started school, I took some online classes, mostly to help run the farm more efficiently. But I also took an art class. When I started painting again, I remembered who I’d been before I met Atlas, and I started to ask for more. More time, more respect, more space for myself. There were several blowups, but finally, I converted the attic into an art studio.

Atlas and I grew apart. His drinking became more pronounced. I smelled the scent of other women on him when he came home at night. When Oscar was ten, we conceived Adelaide on a night like that—him drunk and me half-asleep. I should have stopped it, just like I should have stopped the whole thing before it started.

I was alone, an orphan whose parents had never been satisfied with me. They wanted my gifts to be more impressive to their friends. They wanted a performance. I was a disappointment.

After Adelaide came, I poured all my love into raising her. I let myself fall into the routine of trying to keep her world safe instead of making it safer for myself.

I placed my hands over my eyes, begging for it to stop. I didn’t want to see anymore. I didn’t want to know what I had been through and how much of myself I’d lost.

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I dropped my paintbrush into a jar of water and rubbed my face. There was a painting of Astarte as Venus on my easel, and I'd barely started. I knew the next angel would be coming on her heels: the archangel Haniel, the angel of love.

The thought of it reminded me what I meant to do today—call a divorce lawyer. Love meant a lot of things. Haniel was supposed to represent the love of God. Which I now knew meant loving myself.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number of a local divorce lawyer. The phone rang, and I was greeted by a receptionist. "I'd like a consultation regarding my dissolution of marriage," I said with confidence I didn't feel. My hands were numb, and my heart hammered in my chest. I gave the woman my name and number, and she told me the attorney would call me back. When I hung up the phone, I turned back to Sunny.

"You want to go out?" I asked, knowing she must be ready for a bathroom trip. We walked down the stairs, Sunny bravely navigating the steps at my heels.

I was missing something deeper about the Tree of Life. What did it represent? It seemed to be a representation of the pathway of the human toward God. But God, or Keter, or Metatron, was clearly a man. My mind swam, thinking back to the first night when I'd entered Atlas's cave. It reminded me of the Dwarven caves of the Lord of the Rings.

My phone rang with the caller ID of the divorce attorney. I quickly answered, feeling a sense of anticipation. Emily Hogan greeted me in a warm, friendly tone and asked what she could help me with. I gave her the rundown of my situation, from my memory loss to Atlas's infidelity.

"And you know for sure he's having an affair?" she asked.

"I have photographs and digital evidence."

"You have a very good case, Anastasia. It would be in your best interest to act fast."

She told me her retainer fee, and we arranged to have an in-person meeting to go over the paperwork the next day. We got off the phone, and I sent her the fee. I looked through the filing cabinets for all the documents I needed for my case.

The thing that scared me most was the possibility that Atlas would try to take our daughter. I'd been busy falling out of love when I should have been defending myself. My memory loss and the experiences I’d shared with him could be used against me in a custody case. Atlas never took care of Adelaide when I was around. Maybe he would try to get his girlfriend to take care of our daughter for him.

I didn't know what I would do once the divorce was finalized. I didn't know where I wanted to go, but I knew it wasn’t here. I needed to find my own way in life.

I made a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table. Atlas had come home early this morning. His car was here, but I hadn't seen him around the farm. I didn't know if he'd seen the withdrawal from our joint bank account. I felt nervous, but this process had to be started.

I opened my laptop and sent the photos of Atlas and his girlfriend to Emily. There was a loud bang at the door. "What's this incoming charge to our savings account?"

"I told you I want a divorce. I hired an attorney."

"You can't just do that!"

"I did. I know you're having an affair. And that's not the only reason. There are a myriad of others."

"You aren't taking my daughter or my farm! My father left me this place. You have no right to it."

"We've been married for twenty-five years."

"You'll never get away with this!"

He stormed out of the kitchen. The front door slapped shut, and his engine rumbled away. I sighed. And I was the crazy one…

What did he expect me to do? Quietly accept his terrible treatment? Disappear? Die? Death was coming. With my marriage in its final throes, I hoped that death wouldn't be mine.

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Adelaide's pink sweater sparkled in the hazy afternoon sunlight as she walked down the driveway. When she spotted Sunny, her face lit up, and she rushed up the stairs.

"Where did you get that puppy?" she asked.

"I found her in the woods. Her name is Sunny." I showed her the tag around the puppy’s neck. "I'm trying to find who she belongs to. I took her to the shelter this morning to check for a tracking chip, but they didn't find one. So, they put a notice for a lost puppy on their website."

"What will you do if they can't find the owner?" she asked, scratching under the puppy's chin. "Can we keep her?"

"We aren’t keeping that." Atlas’s voice bit through the afternoon air.

"She's a sheepdog," I said. "We could train her to work."

"I don't need a dog. I’ve run this ranch this long without one. There's no reason to change now." He stomped up the stairs and slammed the door behind him.

Adelaide looked disappointed. "Do you want to keep her?" she asked.

"I know this dog is mine," I said, putting the puppy on the ground.

"What about Dad?" She gripped the straps of her backpack.

"There's plenty of room for a dog on this property. Besides, he doesn't have to take care of her."

I started down the stairs and walked onto the patch of grass that was our front lawn. Adelaide joined me, and the two of us giggled as we watched the puppy frolic and chase a dandelion pod. My heart filled with a sense of peace, happiness, and love. I couldn't remember Adelaide's babyhood. I couldn't remember what it was like to hold her, nurse her, and feel the love flowing from myself into her.

The puppy awakened something dormant in me that flowed from my breast and filled the space around me with light.

I desperately needed to feel it—like a woman dying of thirst in the desert. All the love I needed to give to my daughter, all the love I needed to give myself, was locked away.

The arrival of Sunny had unlocked my heart. The life essence poured from me like a fountain of milk. It illuminated everything around me: the overcast sky, the spring grass, the floating seedpods in the air.

"He's going to be mad," she whispered.

"Probably," I said. "But I'm not going to let that stop me.” She was too important to lose. She was my familiar.

I gathered up the puppy, and the three of us went inside just as the back door slammed. I went to the kitchen and set Sunny on the floor. I poured puppy food into her bowl, and she began to chomp down on it.

Adelaide set her backpack on the table and slipped into a chair, pulling out her homework. She gave me a permission slip for school and told me about her day. The boys on the bus had been making crude jokes, but one of them slipped on his way off the bus and sprained his ankle. A sly smile slid over her lips.

I couldn't help feeling like my daughter’s powers were awakening. Maybe her intentions, her anger, our shared rage tripped him up, and he'd gotten what he deserved. I made her a snack while she did her homework.

When she went upstairs to talk to her online friends, I took the puppy back outside. Atlas’s truck was gone. I checked my phone to locate him and found his car was on the way to his girlfriend's house.

Sunny pranced around at my feet. She was already getting the hang of going to the bathroom outside. I smiled at the dog as she rushed off toward the sheep. I followed her, one eye on the puppy and the other on my phone. The tracking icon landed on Samantha’s home address.

I turned off the phone and shoved it in my pocket. It was time to file the divorce papers. I would hire a lawyer. I would have plenty of evidence to get out of this marriage with whatever I needed.

I was so distracted by thoughts of divorce; I lost track of Sunny. Walking around the barn, I heard her barking at the sheep through the wire fence.

I leaned down, told her to sit, and pointed to the ground. She sat down and stopped barking. I petted her, told her to come, and she followed me back into the house. She was gaining obedience quickly, and I was pleased.

I made dinner for me and Adelaide and ate without Atlas. My daughter went to bed, and I went up to the attic. In my dreams, I found myself in a night garden. The scent of roses filled the air.

The sun and moon were absent from the stage of the sky. A star glowed on the horizon. I heard the high-pitched cries of kittens. I looked down, the starlit world a silver glimmer. I knelt and found kittens on the ground around my feet.

They were the same seven kittens Tim Riggle had surrendered to the pound. Instantly, they grew into full grown female lions. The landscape came into view as the first rays of the sun broke on the horizon. I was in a rose garden surrounded by meadows, forests, and hillsides. There were flowers in full bloom all around me.

The seven-pointed star blazed in the sky, trumpeting the arrival of the sun. The rays of light washed over my eyes as the star grew larger. From the sparkling light, a figure emerged, radiant and glowing like a revelation. Astarte descended to me, holding a sword in one hand and an ankh in the other.

She landed on clawed feet before me, her eyes like stars. Her breasts bare, her hair a writhing mass of snakes.

"You wish to meet the dead?"

"No… I…" My mind snapped, going blank.

"There is no life without sacrifice."

"What must I sacrifice?"

Her face grew large in my visual field. "To rise again at the end of the night, you must give up the nightmare."

"That doesn't sound like a sacrifice," I said, still confused.

A smile curved on her lips. "You would be surprised how attached humans are to suffering." She laughed, and the sound shrieked like the hooting of owls on the hunt.

My eyes flew open, and I was on my air mattress in the art studio. My alarm blared in the hazy quiet morning. I grabbed my phone and turned off the alarm, the dream bleeding through my consciousness. Sunny pranced around in her pen. I climbed to my feet and picked her up, her greedy tongue licking my face.

I took the puppy outside in the cool morning air, wondering if I would ever make it to the top of the tree. There seemed to be no end to the dangers in both the light and the dark.

After Sunny did her business, I made a pot of coffee and sat with her in the living room. She chewed on a piece of rawhide on the couch beside me. I waited for Adelaide to wake up, but it was Atlas who showed up first.

He poured a cup of coffee and then turned to me in the living room. "Don't get attached to that puppy."

"Why not?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you aren't keeping it."

"Says who?"

"I don't want a dog."

"What if I do?" There was an edge of humor in my voice at the audacity.

"I don't have the time or money for a pet. This is my farm. I decide what goes."

I let out a shocked laugh. The snake's hiss echoed in my mind. "This is my home as much as it is yours. I want this dog, and I'll keep her."

"All you do is waste money on your silliness."

"So art and pets are frivolous, but motorcycles and booze are not?"

"I work hard. I deserve a break!"

"I want a divorce," I said flatly.

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Atlas walked out of the barn when I passed through the yard to the front door. “What’s that?” he asked.

“A puppy I found in the woods. It probably belongs to the Jansens. I’ll give them a call.”

I turned to the stairs and went inside, leaving Atlas in the yard. I doubted he wanted a dog. I knew he didn’t like them and didn’t use them to run the sheep. This dog was a shepherd, exactly the kind of dog you’d have on a ranch. The Jensen’s were a retired couple without any livestock. But they probably got her as a pet.

I gave Sunny some cooked beef and a bowl of water and picked up the phonebook from the counter. I searched through the listings for my neighbor’s number and then called. “Hi, is this Penny?” I asked when a woman answered.

“It is,” the elderly woman’s voice cracked through the receiver.

“This is your neighbor, Anastasia Morgan. I just found a twelve-week-old collie puppy on my property with a nametag that says Sunny. Is she yours?”

“No. We don’t have a puppy.”

I got off the phone with Penny, considering who else Sunny could belong to. This small dog couldn’t have walked that far on her own. And I didn’t know the names of any of my other neighbors.

Atlas walked through the front door, wiping his boots on the doormat. “Is it the Jensen’s dog?” he asked.

“No. I don’t know who else it could belong to.”

“It might have a chip. I’ll take it to the pound to check.”

“I can do it,” I said, picking up the dog. I didn’t like his tone. It made me feel like he wanted to get rid of the puppy as fast as possible. In my heart I couldn’t help feeling like the dog was mine.

“Adelaide will be home in an hour.” I grabbed my purse off the rack near the door and left the house. Talking to him made my skin crawl. Every interaction was drenched in hostility. Outside in the open air, I breathed deeply, filling my lungs.

I put the puppy in the front passenger seat of the car and got behind the wheel. I didn’t want to get rid of her. If she had no microchip and no one came forward to claim her, she was mine.

I drove down the highway toward the county pound on the outskirts of town. When I pulled into the driveway and parked, I picked up the puppy and took her inside.

There was a woman at the front desk and no one in line, so I walked right up to her. “I found this puppy on my property. She’s got a collar with no phone number.”

“Do you want to relinquish her?”

“No. I just want to check for a chip. I’ll keep her until her owners are found.”

“Okay, we can scan her.”

The woman led me into a small exam room, and she pulled out a scanning device. She ran it over the usual places for a chip, but it didn’t get any readings.

“I’ll put her into our missing dog database. If someone comes forward, we’ll let you know.” The attendant snapped a picture and took my information. On the way out through the lobby, Tim Riggle walked through the front door. He was holding a small cat carrier full of kittens.

“Tim,” I said, coming up short.

He stopped and stared down at me, his face going red. “Hi, Anastasia. Get a new puppy?”

“I just found her. Are those your cats?”

He grimaced. “My sister’s cat had them.”

The pitch of the mewing made me think they weren’t old enough to leave their mother. I looked into the cage and found the kittens didn’t even have their eyes open. “They should be with their mother,” I said, looking back up at Tim.

“I’m doing her a favor,” he said, brushing past me.

I walked outside, the cool afternoon air biting through my jacket. Tim, his sister, my husband, they could all go to hell. I put Sunny in the car and grimaced as I gripped the wheel.

I wanted to get out of this town. I wanted to get away from all this mess. But I didn’t see a way out. I barely knew who I was. I had no contacts. I had no career. And my memory was less than a year old.

I didn’t want to go home. The place felt like it was swathed in eternal night. There was no reason to continue this worn-out timeline. Yet, here I remained.

The Weaver had told me that people hurt others because they can’t love themselves. That I needed to find a way to forgive it all. But I didn’t want to forgive them. I wanted to curse them. To make them pay.

But I searched myself, finding that what I really wanted was to be free. I wanted to be free to love myself as much as I deserved to be loved.

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