"With all due respect," I said, "for all we knew, you were the killer. We couldn't tell anyone for this to work. Everyone was a suspect or a potential victim."
Gray scratched his head. "Still, I can't believe… there was just so much evidence against you, Catelyn. The journal—"
"I wrote some fake things," said Bridgette. "And set up the creepy room. Then I disappeared, hiding out in other small motels."
"You must have had a way of communicating," said Gray.
I nodded. "We hid notes for each other." We used the loose brick at Harvard, but I kept that secret to myself. "After I got arrested, the killer started to trust Brig more. Then, it was time to leak that I'd found the book. I told Max and I even told Ash, in case his place was bugged… which it was, Brig confirmed."
"What? Are you serious? Catelyn, why didn't you tell me?" Ash looked hurt by the betrayal.
"I'm sorry, Ash. I really am, but any changes to our house or routine would have tipped off the killer and not only would all of our lives be in danger, but we would have lost our chance to catch her. I was tempted at one point to tell Maxwell everything, but I couldn't risk it. Instead, I told him to come to me alone if he found out anything about my mother or her book." I held his hand tightly, the engagement ring on my right hand rubbing against his finger. "I had to keep you safe. I had to keep everyone safe."
"The time came for the plan to happen," said Bridgette. "Before Catelyn told the public about the book, I had to kidnap her. We faked the whole thing because everything might have been bugged, the house, the car, all of it. We had to be careful. The killer was at the cabin, like we'd planned, hoping to kill me in the end, and that's what led to this."
"What about the black outs and mood swings, were those real?" Gray asked.
"Mostly, yes. I exaggerated the mood swings to make you more suspicious, but I have had the headaches and some of the blackouts. That also put a crimp in our plans as we were both worried that I wouldn't be healthy enough to pull off my end.”
"So Lauren, the therapist, was working with Lucky all along. She was the brains behind the Midnight Murders," Detective Gray said.
"It looks like it," I said.
"But why? What was her motive?" Ash asked.
"Best guess," Bridgette said, "she was a high profile therapist. Alice was close to her and must have found out that she'd been involved in the other Midnight Murderer killings with Lucky. She was the brains, he was the muscle. After Lucky's death, she needed to find the book Alice had been working on, but also wanted revenge on Catelyn. At least, from our calls, that's what I've been able to piece together."
We were talked out by the time our statements were taken and Detective Gray finally released us. Bridgette and I hugged again and then her parents showed up, both teary-eyed and elated that their little girl was okay. I steered clear, still hurt by Mr. Beaumont's feelings for me after all these years and instead went to the back porch to talk to Professor Cavin, who had been called since this was his property.
"I'm so sorry this all happened here," I told him. "I know this is a special place for you."
He gave me a half hug and smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'm just so glad you're okay. This place, it's over for me. Too much death here, anyways. First the cat, then this."
I turned to him, my heart skipping a beat. "The cat? My mom's cat? It died here?"
"Yes," he said distractedly, pointing to a tree hidden in the rainy night. "Buried right over there. She even made a little tomb for him with sticks and rocks."
"What did she call it, the cat?"
Cavin shrugged. "She just called him Cat."
I ran out to the yard, rain drenching me, my heart pounding, ears buzzing. It couldn't be. It would be impossible. Ridiculous.
I found the stones and dug them out, using a stick to dig through the dirt until it hit something hard.
A box.
I pulled it out, brushing off the mud and shielding it with my body as I opened it.
I prepared to see the remains of a cat, but instead I found a roll of battered papers wrapped in rubber bands. I opened them up and they were all in my mother's writing. Forcing myself to breathe, I read through the first page and froze. On the front it read: The Davenports will be responsible for my death. Someone has to get close to them and find out the truth.
I tucked the papers into the pocket of my jacket, pushed rocks and dirt back over the grave hoping the rain would settle it, and rushed over to where everyone else was just starting to come out.
Ash hugged me. "What's going on? Are you okay?" He looked over to the tree.