THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Widow
The woman came to Nora’s apartment on a Thursday.
She was young — younger than Nora, younger than Lena had been when she died. Her hair was dark, her eyes were red, her hands were shaking. She wore a black coat and carried a small bag.
“Are you Detective Cross?” she asked.
“I’m Nora Cross.”
“The detective who worked the Bellman case?”
“I was.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears.
“My husband was the second victim.”
Nora’s blood went cold.
“Please,” she said. “Come in.”
The woman’s name was Elena.
She had been married to Marcus Thorne for eight years. They had two children — a boy, six, and a girl, four. Marcus had been a construction foreman, a good father, a loving husband.
He had also been a monster.
Nora had read the file. She knew what Marcus had done. The beatings. The broken bones. The nights Elena had spent in the emergency room, lying about how she had fallen down the stairs.
She knew.
And she knew that Miles had known too.
“I’m not here to defend him,” Elena said. “I’m not here to ask you to feel sorry for him. I’m here to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why. Why did the Bellman choose him? Why did he kill him? Why did he think he had the right?”
Nora was silent for a long moment.
“The Bellman believed he was delivering justice.”
“Justice?” Elena’s voice cracked. “There’s no justice in murder. There’s no justice in revenge. There’s only pain. More pain. Endless pain.”
“I know.”
“Then why did he do it?”
Nora looked at her hands.
They were steady.
“Because he was broken. Because he was grieving. Because he couldn’t save the person he loved, so he tried to save everyone else.”
Elena wiped her eyes.
“The person he loved?”
“His girlfriend. She was murdered fifteen years ago. He never got over it. He never stopped searching for answers. He never stopped blaming himself.”
“So he became a killer.”
“He became a killer.”
“Does that make him any less responsible?”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why aren’t you angry at him? Why aren’t you furious? Why aren’t you screaming?”
Nora met her eyes.
“Because I’m broken too. Because I’m grieving too. Because I couldn’t save the person I loved either.”
Elena stared at her.
“You lost someone?”
“My sister.”
“How?”
“Murdered. Fifteen years ago. I never found out who did it. I never found out why. I never found out anything.”
“And the Bellman?”
“Was her boyfriend. He was there that night. He found her body. He’s been carrying the guilt ever since.”
“Just like you.”
“Just like me.”
Elena stood.
She picked up her bag.
“I don’t forgive him,” she said. “I don’t forgive what he did. I don’t forgive the pain he caused my children. I don’t forgive the fear he put in my heart.”
Nora nodded.
“I understand.”
“But I understand him. And maybe that’s enough. For now.”
She walked to the door.
She paused.
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Thank you for coming.”
Elena left.
Nora sat alone in the silence.
The weight of the world pressed on her shoulders.
She did not cry.
She was done crying.
She was ready to live.