a head start, was arrested in his office and is in jail awaiting trial.
Aubrey sprained her ankle in the fall from the window, and Uncle Archer suffered a concussion and dislocated his shoulder. According to medical examiners, Theresa Ryan probably died from smoke inhalation before she hit the ground.
The land surrounding Catmint House is a crime scene now, so we’re not allowed anywhere near it. But the day after the fire, Aubrey, Jonah, and I drove to the bend in the road where we’d first glimpsed the house. None of the destruction was visible from a distance, but there was something deeply unsettling about seeing an unbroken stretch of sky where the house used to loom. All of that history of Abraham and Mildred’s legacy, and my mother’s childhood home just—gone.
Mom arrived the next day, taking charge like she always does. “You can’t stay here,” she insisted as soon as she set foot in Uncle Archer’s bungalow. “It’s not private enough. The media is in a frenzy.” And just like that, we moved into a swanky Story rental house. Since then, Mom’s been acting as a liaison with police, medical examiners, reporters, and lawyers trying to untangle more than two decades of fraud.
The one thing she hasn’t done, though, is talk about what happened to Matt Ryan on Cutty Beach that summer night twenty-five years ago.
I wanted to ask as soon as she stepped off the plane that brought her to the Gull Cove Island airport. But she pulled me into a stiff hug and said, “No questions, okay? Let’s just get through today.”
She’s been saying that every day since. I’m trying to give her space, because I know that in addition to everything else she’s handling, she has to come to terms with the fact that the mother she’d always hoped to reconcile with has been gone for twenty-four years. And that Mildred Story wasn’t a villain after all, but a woman who got taken from her children without having a chance to say good-bye.
Uncle Anders took off from Gull Cove Island as soon as the first article appeared. He’s done a single interview since, with Fox News. “It’s all lies,” he said about Kayla’s story. “Made up by a bitter ex-girlfriend. May she rest in peace, of course.”
Uncle Adam isn’t granting interviews, but he said the same thing through a spokesperson. Ironically enough, sales of his decade-old book went through the roof when the story broke. Just now, at 5 p.m. sharp, Aubrey got a text from him saying that he’d made the New York Times paperback bestseller list.
She tosses her phone aside with a frown. “I guess there are no consequences for some people, ever,” she mutters.
Everyone except my mother is in the kitchen, making guacamole for tonight’s dinner. It’s the last week of July, so there’s still plenty of summer season left on Gull Cove Island, but not for us. Aubrey and Jonah are both leaving tomorrow, and I’ll follow soon after. My parents want me to stay with Dad and Surya while Mom deals with the fallout here.
“I don’t know,” Archer says, wincing as he awkwardly chops avocados one-handed. His shoulder bothers him a lot, but he refuses to take pain medication. “Your father still has to live with himself. I have a feeling that’s been his problem all along.”
It looks like that’s the only punishment for Matt Ryan’s death that Uncle Adam and Uncle Anders will ever get. Because Uncle Anders is right; the words of a girl who’s been dead for twenty-four years, spoken to a woman who committed massive fraud before dying in a fire she told someone to start, isn’t enough to convict anyone.
The court of public opinion has been harsh, though. The New York Post splashed the question IS IT MURDER? across the front page a couple of days ago, and social media has answered with a resounding hell yeah. Uncle Adam might be getting a temporary boost in book sales, but for most people, it’s a hate read.
Aubrey still looks glum, so Uncle Archer changes the subject. “Tell us about your new place,” he says, scooping uneven avocado chunks into the food processor.
She brightens. Her mother flew in for a day and then had to leave, to finish making arrangements for the apartment she and Aubrey will move into when Aubrey returns to Oregon. “It’s a really cute three-bedroom condo. About halfway between school and the hospital where Mom works,” she says.