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The way the light trickles out in long fingers over the trees, as if it’s trying to grasp them and hang on, find a secure foothold that will last all day, feels so natural.
Like things are exactly the way they’re supposed to be.
Or at least, they will be soon.
The sounds of all the heavy digging equipment as the FBI works in the valley on the arduous, likely years-long—task of trying to uncover all the bodies buried there was distracting at first.
Even with my help and that of the records I’ve provided them, part of me still wonders if they’re ever going to actually find everyone. But I did make sure they started with one body in particular, and I ensured it got back where it rightfully belonged.
Eliza may never forgive me for not protecting Ray, but at least she knows what happened now, and she can bury him where he deserves to have his final rest.
Over the last six weeks, I’ve tried to push that guilt away, along with all the regrets I’ve lived with for so long. I’ve attempted to let go of that curse that’s haunted me for too long. But there are some days when it feels like it might never happen.
I’ve done everything I can to ensure the Barker organization is dismantled piece by piece, that the FBI has everything it needs to prosecute Wendy and everyone who has ever done her dirty work to the fullest extent of the law.
But even that can’t wash the blood from my hands.
That stain is permanent.
A dull tinge I see every time I look at them.
But knowing I’ve done my part helps it fade slightly so that when I touch Callista when we’re together, I can do it completely unreserved.
I don’t have to hold anything back anymore.
I don’t have to be afraid of an uncertain future.
I don’t have to feel like I don’t deserve the thing that I know I can never let go or live without.
Little by little, those feelings have dissipated, and eventually, all the bodies will be gone, all the evidence of what this place once was will vanish, and maybe then things will finally fully settle.
I turn away from the window and make my way back over to the table that now stands empty, running my fingers across the polished wooden surface where I documented every dirty deed this family did since I was old enough to read and write.
All gone.
I glance at the climate-controlled case, now completely empty.
The ledgers and the journals boxed away and taken off by some FBI agents weeks ago.
Even though I know I’ll get them back once the case is done, the loss of those stories hit me harder than I thought it would.
I always convinced myself the Barkers’ history was irrelevant, that it had only done harm and turned us into horrible people. Made me The Beast. That my path in life was inevitable because of that laid by my forefathers.
But I was wrong.
Those journals weren’t merely documentation of how the Barkers built an empire. They weren’t a roadmap for evil. They were cautionary tales meant to teach the coming generations the dangers of living this way. Just no one bothered to heed the warnings spelled out on those pages.
It would be easy to say I regret everything in my past, but if not for what the Barkers before me did, I wouldn’t have Callista here with me.
Her footsteps on the stairs just outside the library draw my attention away from what’s missing in this room and toward the only thing I need to fill the space.
She steps in, bundled up in an oversized sweater that falls off one shoulder and leggings. Her blond hair, cascading down over her shoulders, even longer now than it was when she first arrived since she refuses to get it cut. Mostly because she likes me twisting it around my wrist and tugging on it as much as I do.
Fuck, I’m a lucky man.
She looks stunning this morning, practically glowing, her cheeks rosy from the cold air that has finally fully descended on the mountain. Mug in her hand, she closes the distance between us and holds it out. “I figured you might need one of these before Agent Dean comes up for another debrief.”
“Thank you.”
