Forgive Me by Kateri Stanley (love letters to the dead txt) 📗

for killing your father, for tearing your family apart. I knew you’d never be the same after I turned your world upside down.

“Stripe, please...” I pull over to the side of the road, keeping my eye on Sofia who sobs quietly in the backseat. I want you to look at me. “Listen to me.”

Your fingers grip my hand, a shiver shoots up my spine. “Isaac, I love you. But I love my mom too. I have to do this. You can take Sofia back to your house where she’ll be safe. She’s paramount here.”

“That's, that's the first time you said you love me.” There is a beat of silence. “I can’t let you go now. What if he hurts you?”

You shrug carelessly, options dwindling. “I don’t care as long as my mom is alive.”

How can you act this way? You're willing to die, but I, I need you. I can't live without you. The struggle is pulling at me. I don’t know which road to choose.

I glance in the rear-view mirror; our daughter's vivid blue eyes stare back. I just wish my reflexes had been quicker. They should’ve been. I didn't notice the van coming from the corner of my eye. The vibrations from the engine are loud and angry.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

The manic smile on Isaiah’s face didn't move, even when he slammed the stalled car off the road. There was nobody on the highway, nobody would ask questions and if they did, he'd silence them. He was the deadliest troop in the world right now.

Isaiah strolled down the tiny hill meeting the car, it had skidded to the grass below before it met the opening of the wood. His machete swung in one hand, the other filled with a chloroform sodden towel. He reached the vehicle; the front window was broken in and the two people in the front slumped forward. The man in the driver's seat was out cold. And for good reason. He knew what he was capable of. Isaiah’s heart thumped in his chest as he walked to the passenger side, he'd never been this close before.

Isaiah leaned in to check. The vile creature was so near. Her green eyes opened electrifying him. His eyes. His hand shot out, clasping the towel across her mouth and nose. She struggled, fighting, her strength angered him. She looked so much like Anna. He added pressure to the towel, pushing against her mouth. She kept her gaze on him when the solution made her eyes roll back into her head until she passed out.

It was a hard job heaving the bodies into his van. He was surprised he managed to get the vehicle down the hill without the wheels slipping. Then the little brat in the back seat began to make a racket. She wasn't scathed like her parents, that was interesting. He didn’t expect the little cretin to survive the crash. He couldn’t leave her out here, he wanted to but if anyone saw the car, the baby would act as a beacon, the beginning of a trail.

“Shut up!” Isaiah shouted, hauling the carrier out of the car.

The little thing jolted in fear and began to cry even more. I didn’t want to be a babysitter. He huffed, buckling her into the passenger seat of his van. “You think you’re having a hard time?” He stared at the child, shaking his head, scowling at the little monster. “You'd shudder if you knew what your grandfather did to me.”

He pulled the van into reverse, following the dirt path into the wood, driving back to Kaltheia in a happy frenzy. The little child must have passed out from crying. Isaiah had to crank up the volume of his radio to drown out her wails.

Everything had been leading up to this, all of those nights staying up devising and stalking, following and calculating and now it was finally happening. He couldn't wait for the next stage in his plan. However, he noticed that his beloved car companion wasn't with him, after he'd brought the Beverley bitch back to Kaltheia, she wasn't anywhere to be found. He didn't want to admit it, but he was beginning to miss his pale blonde-haired ghost.

Chapter Forty

Spring 2016

Detective Pamela Gagnon placed the box on the desk. She pulled out a faded yellow card file and slipped her fingers between the papers, flipping to the correct page.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss McLachlan,” she replied. “I had to get these from our record department. It can be quite the jaunt. Roger said you’re researching a cold case for an article?”

“Yes, I am. It’s more of a personal project, not sure if I want to publish just yet. You can call me Stripe or Susan. I hope I’m not taking too much of your time.”

“Not at all. You can call me Pam. Anyway, it’s nice having a break here and there.” Pam picked up her pen, twisting her red stoned ring on her forefinger. “You’re the daughter of Peter, the fifth victim.”

The Stripe woman nodded as she pushed the stroller back and forth. The baby was sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in blankets. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, it must have been hard to deal with especially for a kid.”

Stripe shrugged. “I coped. College toughened me up.”

“Do you feel comfortable going ahead with this?”

“Don’t worry, I can do this.”

“As long as you’re sure. This is still an open case, I can’t tell you anything confidential such as the location of the crime or provide you with access to witness testimonies.”

“I understand, detective. I wanted to ask about the fourth Night Scrawler victim, Gerald Blair?”

“Yes, I was there at the crime scene. I was an officer back then; went by Sevigny. My maiden name before I got married. It was a homicide case. The assailant broke into his home, gaining access to the house via the back door. Mr Blair was murdered as he slept.” She slid the file towards Stripe who began to delve through the pages. “Have