Page 102 of Sole Survivor
"What if Paul was?"
Agent Denton whistles.
“I don’t understand. Why would Nathan kill his brother?” I ask, looking around the room, trying not to laugh at the looks on the agents' faces.
Agent Denton softens his gaze as he looks at me. “Some people have no remorse. They kill because they can. Others kill for a whole list of reasons. Now, normal people don’t go around killing each other. But a guilty conscience and a boatload of paranoia can warp a person’s perception.”
I frown, which is hard because I’m ecstatic that they’re eating up what we're serving like good little piggies.
“I still don’t understand. What does any of this have to do with Hope?”
“Maybe you were onto something when you said Nathan could have been her rapist. If he was unstable, he might have built that relationship up in his head to be more than it was,” Valen says thoughtfully.
“Like a stalker that convinces himself he and his victim are actually in love?”
“Yeah.” Valen nods. “What if he believed he loved Hope and blamed his brother for what happened to her?”
“Possibly the father, too. If he blamed one, he’d blame the other, and nobody would look beyond a heart attack without reason.”
Nobody says anything for a minute, so I dive in. “If that’s the case, then why kill the others?”
“He was getting revenge for Hope,” Valen answers gently. I reach out and rub his arm, doing my part to play the caring fiancée, but I also draw strength from him, knowing how close it is to being over.
“What do you mean?”
“Briarwood House was a cesspool of abuse. I reported it, but it was never investigated. Hope was alone in that place, and she was there for over two years. She didn’t kill herself because Paul or Nathan raped her. She would have done that after the fact if that were the case. No, she killed herself to escape the abuse. I know because there were days when I thought about doing the same thing,” he admits, making Agent Davis swallow.
“You think maybe he took out everyone who hurt her to ease his own guilt?” I conclude.
“It explains why there were only nine victims when hundreds must have passed through those doors,” Valen adds, giving credence to my question. If the cops dug harder, they might find a few holes, but with the supposed killer dead and Briarwoodshut down years ago, they won’t bother looking. They’ll want to tie this up in a neat bow and boast to the public that they caught the bad guy. They’ll stand there and get their pats on the back for a job well done and for ensuring everyone can sleep again at night. And in a few weeks, something else will steal the headlines.
“And he attacked me because I hurt Hope by not believing her, but I also looked too much like her for him to really hurt me. Maybe he had second thoughts figured he could live the life he wanted with Hope with me instead, and Valen was just a convenient scapegoat. But when he found out that I was going to marry Valen, he snapped.”
Agent Davis pulls out two clear evidence bags—one holding a torn photo, the other a key. “Do you recognize either of these?” he asks as he hands them to me.
I take the photo first and make a shocked sound. Looks like Valen may have gotten carried away. The photo of me and my sister has been torn virtually in two, and my sister’s eyes crossed out.
“That’s me and Hope. Jesus, he really hated me, didn’t he?” I say before I take the other bag from Davis.
“That’s the key to the back door of my house.”
Jones shakes his head. “Both were found in Detective Hask’s dresser along with what we believe to be the missing vials of Sono-d from GhostWard.”
I hand him back the bags and wrap my arms around myself. “He was the one who broke into my house and filmed me sleeping.”
“We found a cell phone with that footage, along with some of you in Highgrove Park. It also made two calls the night you were found. One was to your cell phone number, the other to the police station. Can you tell us about that night?” Davis probes.
“The night I ended up in Highgrove Park, I received a phone call. It was a male’s voice. He said he had some information for me about the Lullaby Killer. Next thing I know, I’m coming out of a vision, one viewed from the victim’s eyes. Until then, I’d always witnessed the murders from the killer’s point of view.”
I swallow, thinking of the vision I had of me on the floor after being raped. I had no way of knowing at the time that it was a memory of what happened to me.
I shake it off and continue. “This vision felt different. I thought that meant I might have a chance to save the next victim for once. I’ve always been too freaking late before. I didn’t stop to think about the consequences. I raced up there to meet the informant, hoping that whatever information he had would save the next victim. Little did I know I was the next victim and that I was walking into a trap. When I got there, I decided I should hide my car, so I parked in a small group of trees close enough to get there fast if I needed, but covered enough that no one would find it.”
"Well, that explains why no one could find your car."
I nod. "It sounds ridiculous now, but at the time, I thought it was a good idea. Anyway, while I sat in my car waiting, I had time to think and realized how stupid I was. I went to grab my phone to call the station and realized that, in my rush, I had left my bag and phone at home." I pause for a moment and shake my head. Valen rubs one of his hands up and down my back.
"Do you need a moment, Miss Anderson?" Agent Jones asks.