THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Visit
The detention center was gray.
Gray walls. Gray floors. Gray light filtering through gray windows. The air smelled of disinfectant and despair, of lives interrupted and futures stolen. Nora stood at the entrance, her hands in her pockets, her eyes on the metal door that separated her from the man who had been her partner for twelve years.
She had visited him twice before.
Both times, she had said nothing.
Both times, she had sat across from him, staring at his face, searching for answers she wasn’t ready to hear.
Both times, she had left without speaking.
This time would be different.
This time, she was ready.
The guard led her to the visitation room.
The room was small — two chairs, a table bolted to the floor, a glass partition between them. Miles was already there, sitting in his orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed to the table, his face pale and tired.
He looked older.
The last few weeks had aged him.
Nora sat down.
She picked up the phone on her side of the glass.
He picked up his.
“Hello, Nora.”
“Miles.”
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
“I’ve been sleeping.”
“Liar.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Nora said.
“Which part?”
“About forgiveness.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know how.”
Miles leaned back.
His eyes were sad.
“Neither do I. That’s why I did what I did. I thought if I could make you remember, if I could make you feel, if I could make you understand, then maybe you could forgive yourself.”
“And then what?”
“Then you could live.”
“I’ve been living.”
“You’ve been surviving. There’s a difference.”
She looked at her hands.
They were steady.
“I’ve been reading the case files. The victims you chose.”
“I didn’t choose them lightly.”
“I know. I’ve been talking to their families.”
Miles’s eyes widened.
“Their families?”
“The first victim’s sister. The second victim’s wife. The third victim’s mother. The fourth victim’s best friend.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to understand.”
“And do you?”
She was silent for a long moment.
“I understand that you were wrong. And I understand that you were trying to do what you thought was right. And I understand that those two things can be true at the same time.”
Miles’s eyes were wet.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“I never meant to hurt anyone.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“The families are hurting. The victims are dead. The world is not a better place because of what you did.”
“No.”
“Then what was the point?”
He looked at her.
His voice was barely a whisper.
“You.”
The word hung in the air.
Nora’s throat tightened.
“Me?”
“I did it for you. I wanted you to see that you weren’t alone. That you weren’t the only one carrying guilt. That you weren’t the only one who couldn’t let go.”
“So you killed four people?”
“I killed four people who were already dying. Who were already suffering. Who were already lost.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No. It makes it necessary.”
She stood.
The chair scraped against the floor.
“I’m going to go now.”
“Will you come back?”
She looked at him.
His face was pale.
His eyes were wet.
His hands were shaking.
“I don’t know.”
“Please.”
She picked up the phone again.
“I’ll try.”
She left the room.
She didn’t look back.