THE LAST HOUR OF SEVEN BELLS
The Sister
The second visitor came on a Saturday.
She was older than Elena, her hair streaked with gray, her face lined with grief. She wore a simple dress and carried a photograph in her hands. Her name was Margaret. She was the first victim’s sister.
Nora invited her in.
She offered her coffee.
Margaret declined.
“I don’t have much time,” she said. “I just wanted to meet you. To see your face. To understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why the Bellman chose my sister. Why he thought she deserved to die. Why he thought he had the right.”
Nora was silent for a long moment.
“Your sister was terminally ill.”
“I know.”
“She had weeks to live.”
“I know.”
“She asked him to do it.”
Margaret’s face went pale.
“What?”
“She asked him. She didn’t want to suffer. She didn’t want to be in pain. She wanted to go out on her own terms.”
“And he agreed?”
“He agreed.”
“Without telling anyone? Without asking her family? Without giving us a chance to say goodbye?”
Nora shook her head.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. I only know what he told me.”
Margaret set the photograph on the table.
It showed two women — sisters, smiling, arms around each other, standing in front of a house with a white picket fence.
“That’s us. Before she got sick. Before the cancer. Before the Bellman.”
“She was beautiful.”
“She was everything. She was my best friend. My confidant. My rock. When she died, a part of me died too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t bring her back.”
“No. It doesn’t. But it’s all I have.”
Margaret picked up the photograph.
She tucked it into her pocket.
“I don’t forgive him,” she said. “I don’t forgive what he did. I don’t forgive the way he took her from us. I don’t forgive the way he made us feel.”
“I understand.”
“But I understand why he did it. And maybe that’s enough. For now.”
She walked to the door.
She paused.
“Thank you, Detective.”
“Thank you for coming.”
Margaret 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 heal.