Chapter 12: The Beginning

Liam

The lake house is quiet. I stand on the porch, watching the sun rise over the water. The sky is the colour of a bruise – purple and gold and grey. The mist rises from the lake like smoke from a dying fire. Zoe is still asleep. She has not slept in days. Neither have I. The file is on the kitchen table. Every name. Every account. Every secret that has been festering in the dark for twenty years.

I have not opened it. I am afraid that if I do, I will lose what is left of myself. Liam." I turn. Zoe is standing in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket, her hair wild, her grey eyes soft. "You should be sleeping."So should you." She walks toward me, her bare feet silent on the wooden boards. She stops beside me and leans her head on my shoulder.

"What happens now?" she asks. "Now we live." "Just like that?" She laughs – a soft, broken sound. "You make it sound so easy." "Easy?" I turn to face her. "Zoe, I have been hunting ghosts for two years. I have lost sleep, blood, and years of my life to this. I am tired. I am so tired." "Then stop, but "I am trying."

She reaches up and touches my face. Her fingers are warm. "The file is on the table," she says. "Are you going to open it?"No." "Why not?" "Because I do not need it anymore." I cover her hand with mine. "I have the truth. I have you. That is enough." She stares at me with her eyes wet.

"Liam."I love you, Zoe. I know I should not. I know this is a bad idea. But I do. I love you." She kisses me. softly and slowly, then the world falls away. The sun rises higher. The mist burns off. The lake sparkles like scattered diamonds. We stand on the porch, wrapped in each other, and for the first time in two years, I feel something that is not grief.

I feel hope. The weeks that follow are a blur of lawyers and depositions and late-night conversations. Evelyn is in prison. She will not be getting out. Victor is in a hospital, dying, but talking. He is giving them names. Dozens of names. The network is crumbling. My father is in custody. He has confessed to everything – the murder, the conspiracy, the years of hiding. He will spend the rest of his life in a cell.

Zoe's mother – Eleanor – is in witness protection. She will not be able to contact Zoe for a long time. Maybe never. Zoe does not cry. She just nods and walks away. I find her in the garden, sitting on a bench, staring at the flowers. "Are you okay?" I ask. "No."

I sat beside her. "Do you want to talk about it?"No." "Then I will sit here with you." We sit in silence. The sun warms our faces. The bees buzz among the roses. "Liam, yes, thank you." "For what?" "For not giving up on me." I take her hand. "Never." She leans her head on my shoulder, and we watch the clouds drift across the sky.

The trial is long, but the verdict is swift and guilty on all counts. Evelyn's face does not change. She is a statue carved from ice. My father weeps. I do not know if his tears are real. Zoe is not in the courtroom. She is at the lake house, planting tulips. She says she needs to see something grow. I will join her when it is over. She is on her knees in the dirt, her hands black with soil, her face flushed from the sun.

"How did it go?" she asks. "He is guilty." She nods. "Good."We can go home now." She looks up at me. Her grey eyes are bright. "I am home." I kneel beside her, and we plant the rest of the tulips together. The sun sets over the lake, painting the water in shades of gold and crimson.

Zoe is in my arms, her head on my chest, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. "What are you thinking?" I ask. "I am thinking about the future." "Scared?" "A little." She looks up at me. "But I'm excited too."

"Good."Liam." "Yes?" "Will you stay?" I kiss her forehead. "Forever." The stars emerge, one by one, scattered across the darkening sky like promises. Tick-tock: The clock is still ticking, but for the first time, it sounds like a heartbeat. The beginning.