EPILOGUE

MAGGIE wasn’t sure why she had come. Perhaps she simply needed to see him lowered into the ground. Maybe she needed to be certain that this time Albert Stucky would not escape.

She stood back, close to the trees, looking at the few mourners and recognizing most of them as reporters. The entourage from St. Patrick’s outnumbered the mourners. There were several priests and just as many altar boys carrying incense and candles. How could they justify sending off someone like Stucky with the same ceremony given an ordinary sinner? It didn’t seem fair.

But it didn’t matter. She was finally free. And in more ways than one. Stucky had not won. And neither had her own shadow side. In a split second, she had chosen to defend herself, but had not given in to true evil.

Harvey nudged her hand, probably wondering what use it was to be out in the open if they were not going to walk and enjoy it. She watched the procession make its way from the grave down the hill.

Albert Stucky was finally gone, soon to be buried six feet under like his victims.

Maggie petted Harvey’s soft fur and felt an incredible sense of relief. They could go home. She could feel safe again. The first thing she wanted to do was sleep.