Miranda gazed out the car window as Nolan drove through the city, the lights blurring past her tired eyes. Her throat ached from the hours of giving her statement, and an emotional exhaustion had settled deep into her bones.
It was finally over. The truth had come out. They'd contacted Nolan's family to let them know she was alive. Their friends and colleagues had been informed. Even the media had received the story about the "mix-up" that had erroneously declared Miranda dead. Nolan had made a substantial donation to the hospital to smooth over the complications.
The nightmare had ended, but the aftermath was just beginning. They would know within days if Aunt Gra had been complicit in the crimes. Suzanne, at least, had been too young at the time to bear any responsibility for her father's actions.
"You're quiet," Nolan observed, reaching across to take her hand, his touch warm and reassuring.
