Chapter 9
Three months later.
The first round of trials was over.
Diane and Lauren had been the first to go to court. The evidence against them had been overwhelming—the forged documents, the poison vial, the recorded confessions, the three living victims who testified via video link, the financial records, the urns full of sand, the boarding school receipts.
It had taken the jury less than two hours to find them guilty on all counts.
Diane Whitmore—eighty-two counts of racketeering, fraud, elder abuse, identity theft, and conspiracy to commit murder. Sentence: life without parole plus one hundred and seventy-five years. She would die in prison.
Lauren Whitmore—née Rooker—seventy-nine counts, plus three additional counts of murder in the first degree for her previous husbands and Emily. The new toxicology tests on Emily’s exhumed remains had found the ouabain derivative. Exactly as they had suspected.
Sentence: death.
Florida was still a death penalty state. And the jury had been unanimous.
Tyler, the muscle, had turned state’s evidence early. He testified against everyone in exchange for a reduced sentence. He got fifteen years. He’d be out in ten with good behavior. The rest of the family—the brothers, the sister, the cousins, the in-laws—had all cut deals of their own. Sentences ranging from five to forty years.
All of them were going away. All of them.
Daniel and Eli had watched the sentencing from the back of the courtroom. They hadn’t testified. They hadn’t needed to. The evidence had spoken for itself.
When the judge said the words “death by lethal injection,” Lauren had turned and looked directly at Daniel. She hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t mouthed any more threats. She had just stared. Cold. Empty. Dead inside.
Daniel had stared right back. He felt nothing. No anger. No triumph. No sorrow. Just... nothing. She was less than nothing to him now. A mistake he had made. A lesson he had paid dearly to learn.
They had left the courtroom and never looked back.
Now it was October. The Florida heat was finally starting to break. The days were shorter. The air was cooler.
Daniel and Eli were packing.
They were leaving Orlando. Leaving the house where so much bad had happened. Leaving the memories. Starting over.
They had bought a small house on the beach, just south of St. Augustine. An old bungalow with a big porch and a yard that went all the way down to the dunes. It needed work. A new roof. Fresh paint. The kitchen was from the seventies.
Daniel loved it.
Eli loved it more.
Hank, now fully grown and tipping the scales at ninety-five pounds of pure golden retriever chaos, loved it most of all. He spent his days running up and down the beach, chasing seagulls, digging holes that could double as graves, and generally being the happiest creature on the planet.
“Dad! Have you seen my surf shirt? The blue one!”
Eli came barreling down the stairs of the old house, a box of his things under one arm. He was thirteen now. Taller. Broader. The sad, scared little boy from that night in July was gone. In his place was a confident, happy kid who spent every free moment outside. Who had made three new friends on the beach already. Who had just made the travel baseball team for his new school.
“Top drawer of your dresser, buddy!” Daniel called back.
He was in the kitchen, packing the last of the pots and pans. The house was almost empty. The moving truck was parked in the driveway. The movers were loading the last of the furniture.
Daniel picked up the last item from the kitchen counter.
The cameo locket.
He had given it to Eli on his thirteenth birthday. The boy had cried. He wore it every single day now, on a long chain under his shirt. It never came off. Not even in the shower.
Today, Eli had taken it off for the first time in months—he was painting his new bedroom and didn’t want to get paint on it. He had left it on the counter.
Daniel picked it up. He opened it. The two tiny photos were still there. Emily. Baby Eli. He ran his thumb over Emily’s face.
“We did it, Em,” he whispered. “We got him through. He’s okay. He’s more than okay.”
He closed the locket and slipped it into his pocket. He’d give it back to Eli later.
“Mr. Foster?” One of the movers stuck his head in the kitchen. “Truck’s all loaded. Just about ready to go whenever you are.”
“Thanks, Jimmy. Five minutes.”
The mover nodded and left.
Daniel took one last walk through the empty house. Room by room. The living room where Lauren had sat and lied to him every day. The dining room where Diane had hosted her fake charity dinners. The utility room where he had found Eli folding his own laundry at midnight.
The guest apartment out back. It had been emptied months ago. The cedar wardrobe was in evidence storage somewhere. It would never hold secrets again.
He walked out the front door. Locked it for the last time. Handed the keys to the real estate agent, who was waiting by her car.
“Good luck with the sale,” she said.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t look back.
Eli was already in the truck with Hank. The dog was so excited about the move he could barely sit still. He kept trying to climb into the front seat, tail thumping against the door.
“Down, Hank! Down! Geez, you’re worse than a kid.” Eli laughed, pushing the dog back.
Daniel climbed behind the wheel. He turned the key. The engine roared to life.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Born ready,” Eli said. He pulled the locket from his father’s outstretched hand and slipped it back over his head. Tucked it safely under his shirt.
Daniel put the truck in drive.
They pulled out of the driveway for the last time. As they passed Mrs. Henderson’s house, she was standing on her porch waving both arms. They waved back. She had already promised to come visit them at the beach in November. She was bringing her famous pecan pie.
They drove north. Out of Orlando. Past the city limits. Onto the highway that led to the coast.
Eli turned on the radio. Some pop song he liked came on. He sang along—off-key and at the top of his lungs. Hank howled along with him.
Daniel smiled. He turned the volume up.
For two years, he had been living in a nightmare. Married to a murderer. Living with a family of thieves. Walking on eggshells, never knowing that every morning might be his last. He had lost his wife. He had almost lost his son. He had almost lost everything.
But he had fought back.
He had found the truth. He had exposed the lies. He had protected his boy. And against all odds, they had come out the other side. Stronger. Closer. Wiser.
The highway curved. Ahead of them, he could see it.
The ocean.
Sparkling blue under the October sun. Endless. Beautiful. Full of promise.
Eli saw it too. He leaned forward in his seat, pressing his face against the windshield.
“There it is! Dad, look! There’s the beach!”
“I see it, buddy. I see it.”
They took the exit ramp. The road wound through the dunes. Salt air blew in through the open windows. It smelled like freedom.
A few minutes later, they turned onto their new street. Small, sandy roads lined with palm trees and beach houses. Theirs was the last one at the end of the lane. Yellow. With a big front porch and a white picket fence that needed painting.
The moving truck was already there. The movers were starting to unload.
Daniel parked the truck. He turned off the engine.
Silence for a second. Just the sound of the waves crashing somewhere beyond the dunes.
Eli looked at him. Grinning from ear to ear.
“Welcome home, Dad.”
Daniel looked at his son. At the locket peeking out from under his shirt. At the dog, already scratching at the door to get out and explore. At the yellow house with the porch swing and the overgrown yard that needed so much work.
Home.
It wasn’t just a place. It was this. The three of them. Together. Safe. Alive.
He reached over and ruffled his son’s hair.
“Welcome home, kiddo.”
They got out of the truck. Hank exploded out the back door and ran straight for the dunes, barking his head off. Eli ran after him, yelling for the dog to wait up.
Daniel stood in the driveway for a moment. He took a deep breath of salt air. He closed his eyes.
Somewhere, he knew Emily was standing right beside him. Smiling that smile he missed so much.
“Take care of them,” she whispered.
“Always,” he whispered back.
He opened his eyes. The sun was warm on his face. The ocean was calling. His family was waiting.
Daniel Foster smiled. A real smile. The first one that reached his eyes in a very long time.
May you like
He walked toward the house.
Toward his future.
