She had to know that evil eventually ended. The visions in front of her were horrifying, but they were also a complicated form of justice, and watching it unfold was going to help her heal, help her unravel her grief.
It. Was. Over. She glanced up at Evan to see his eyes trained on the screen, too, and despite her raging emotions, the one that glowed brightest was her love for him. And she vowed with everything in her to keep that glow front and center, no matter the darkness that threatened to descend in the wake of this horror.
We leave here whole.
We leave here together.
Her gaze moved back to Vitucci as he walked slowly through the dozens of bodies, maneuvering around some, stepping on the throats of others, pausing and leaning closer to a few faces before their bodies went still. She had the notion he’d wanted those particular men to see his face in their final moments.
She watched the man who had staged this moment and so many others. She wondered what his real name was, the man who was some strange and elusive mixture of evil and goodness, revenge and righteousness. Both a sociopath and a savior. She knew suddenly and clearly that the event she was watching would go down in history, as would he. She wondered if he’d be called a villain or a hero. Even she wasn’t sure, and he’d helped save her life and that of the man she loved standing beside her.
Sirens began wailing in the distance. A limping Vitucci approached the old man in the wheelchair slowly. He was the only one not on the floor. Whatever poison had been administered, the old man hadn’t consumed any.
Vitucci slowly wrapped his hands around the frail man’s neck and leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. The man began to shake but not with fear. With rage. His eyes bugged out, a hellish wail coming from his mouth, and his clawlike hands raised as he uselessly attempted to fight back. The sounds of helicopters could be heard in the background now too. Vitucci leaned back, the old man’s face going a deep shade of red as he squeezed. The old man stared up at Vitucci, still defiant even as death’s shadowy figure swooped nearer. “Caspar,” he wheezed.
“That’s right,” Vitucci said. And then he squeezed and squeezed, the man’s face going from red to purple to near black as Vitucci brought his face so close to his that their noses nearly touched. Still, Noelle did not look away, even as Vitucci finally let go with a gusting exhale, and what had been the old man tipped from its wheelchair and fell to the floor in a heap of flesh and bones.
Vitucci turned, the expression on his face victorious but somehow shocked as well. He stumbled as though he was having trouble finding his footing and let his head fall forward for several long moments, his shoulders rising and falling. The room was silent now; the last of the death throes were complete.
Vitucci reached for a glass sitting on a table next to him. Noelle blinked as his gaze met hers over the screen, and she sucked in a breath, certain he knew she was watching him. Certain he was looking straight at her. He raised the glass and toasted the camera, and then, without any hesitation, he brought it to his lips and threw it back, swallowing every drop. Then he reached for another and another, downing them both before falling to his knees, one word whispering from his lips, too silent to hear. But Noelle watched his mouth and was certain he’d uttered “Celesse.”
EPILOGUE
Noelle squinted out over the ocean as the waves crashed on the shore, rushing toward her and then falling away. Overhead, the clouds were clearing, shafts of sunlight streaming through the gloom. The storm that had raged through the night had passed. What was it about the morning after that made the world feel cleansed? It was a smell. It was a feeling.
“Mommy!” Callie called from a few feet up the beach, her hair lifting in the wind. “Look!” She held up a shell of some kind and then put it in her pocket. Noelle smiled at her daughter’s unceasing joy at finding a shell when shells were so plentiful where they lived. Never lose that, baby girl. Never take anything wonderful for granted, no matter how much of it you have.
A figure caught her eye, stepping off the walking bridge and onto the sand. Evan. Her heart galloped and then soared, her breath catching with happy surprise.
“Evan!” Callie shouted as he drew closer. Their little girl ran in his direction, her short legs pumping. Evan’s laugh was caught by the wind and delivered straight to her. She laughed, too, as he swooped Callie into his arms and spun her around. Her heart squeezed tightly. That sight. Oh, thank you God for that sight.
Evan set Callie down and took her hand, and Noelle waited, watching as they walked together toward her. “Well this is a surprise,” she said, her lips trembling as she tried not to smile, tried desperately not to fly into his arms the same way Callie had. He hadn’t told her he was coming. She’d flown home from Reno three days before, and he’d stayed to assist the police as they began unraveling the crime that had rocked the entire globe and to sort some of his father’s affairs. They’d both been in shock when they’d said goodbye, knowing she had to get home to their daughter, both desperate for that, even while it was important that Evan stay.