“I’ll put it somewhere I can see it,” I promised.
Elise leaned against my shoulder. We stayed until the reporters left. There was nothing to celebrate in the ordinary sense. But there was relief in knowing that Mara’s name would no longer be spoken as a mystery nobody cared to solve.
- A Different Kind of Freedom
One year after my release, I returned to the quiet apartment where Walter had first taught me to balance a checkbook. It was smaller than any house I had lived in as an adult. The windows rattled when buses passed. I loved it.
I had sold several properties, including the waterfront estate once the legal restrictions were resolved. I donated some of the proceeds to organizations providing legal assistance to people who could not afford prolonged investigations. The rest went toward repairing the company’s damage and supporting programs Walter had begun.
