Reconciliation
Beth and I were beside we with that horrifying, special worry that every parent is tortured when their child goes missing. Likewise, William was a total wreck, losing hair, rotating between fits of depression and anger, self-doubt and guilt, stoic quietude and conversational neediness. Each one of us was living through our own personal hell of guilt, the wishes of “I could have, should have” self-flagellation of various forms of “It’s my fault.” William and I, both driven by our raging testosterone, plotted the slow, excruciating death of anyone and everyone who might have harmed LJ.
LJ had a nagging feeling that she knew her angel of mercy but was too exhausted to pursue her hunch. The biker, as if by some pre-arranged instructions, took LJ directly to the marina. Upon se
