Guilt & Redemption by Denise Carbo

Author:Denise Carbo [Carbo, Denise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781734872965
Publisher: Denise Carbo

Chapter

Nineteen

Light filtered in between the tiny gap of the curtains. Allison threw off the covers and sat up. It’s not like she was going to fall back to sleep, anyway. She’d tossed and turned most of the night. The packages and phone call buzzed at her brain like a pesky mosquito—one ready to infect her with some deadly disease.

From what she could gather, only four potential connections could have triggered the harassment. The two people she’d told about the fire, Karen and Jim, and the two people from the past she talked to, Dr. Thompson and the firefighter. Then, of course, anyone they had mentioned it to. Her new therapist needed to be added to the list too.

She wandered downstairs to make a cup of tea. Karen couldn’t be responsible. She refused to even consider the possibility. Jim couldn’t either. Her instincts couldn’t be that horrible. Maybe someone they had innocently told? No, neither was the type to gossip indiscriminately. That left the therapists and possibly their office staff. But they were legally and morally bound to confidentiality. The firefighter could have told his coworkers or a spouse.

Ugh! The list could be endless. He could’ve told one person who told another and on down the line.

But why? What did anyone have to gain from tormenting her? What purpose did it serve?

She blew lightly over the cup and sipped her tea. She couldn’t continue like this. The nightmares, paranoia, and worrying weren’t getting better. Dabbling into the past had only made everything worse.

Cupping the mug in her palms, she gazed out the window over the sink. Was it time to go home? Face the consequences of her actions? There probably wasn’t much to see. A crumbling foundation and overgrown lot? What remained of her childhood home?

And would it make a difference to see it? Could it trigger a buried memory of that night?

Allison put the half-finished cup of tea in the sink. What was the worst that could happen? She was already a murderer.

She donned a bra and white panties, pulled a pair of black leggings out of the dresser, and yanked them up her legs. Driving all the way to Pennsylvania was a bit like cannonballing into the deep end of the pool after not swimming for a few decades, but what the hell. She’d got around town just fine—slowly, but fine.

A turquoise tunic was on the top of her short-sleeve drawer, so she pulled it over her head. She strode into the bathroom and ran the brush over her shortened locks. The haircut was certainly easy to care for, although the reflection in the mirror still startled her each time. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to the fresh look.

Good, another level of anonymity couldn’t hurt. It wasn’t likely anyone would recognize her in her hometown; it had been too long.

She brushed her teeth a little too overzealously and winced. Resting her hands against the edge of the sink, she took a deep breath. She could do this.

She needed to do this.

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