My late sister's son was our ring bearer—at the altar, he refused to hand over the rings, pointed at my fiancé and said, "Mom told me not to give them to him until you see this."

By evening, St. Jude’s Chapel was surrounded by police cruisers with flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the stained-glass saints. Douglas had been wrestled to the floor by Marcus and the church security, but when the patrol officers attempted to process him, his high-priced criminal defense lawyer had intervened within two hours. Douglas had posted bail on charges of assault and resisting arrest before midnight; the evidence on the SD card was handed over to the district attorney, but murder charges required time, warrants, and formal verification.

"You cannot go back to your house," Marcus told me as we sat in his unmarked cruiser outside the precinct. "He knows your address. He knows your routines."

"I have Bruce," I said, my voice hoarse. Bruce was asleep in the backseat, wrapped in my mother’s wool coat, still wearing his little dress shirt with the bow tie loosened. "I need somewhere he won't look."

"Judy’s cabin," Marcus suggested quietly. "The lake property out past Blackwood. It was tied up in probate until last month. Douglas never had keys, and Judy kept the deed strictly under her maiden name."

An hour later, Marcus escorted us through the pitch-black mountain roads to the modest timber cabin my sister had bought as an escape from the city. The air smelled of damp pine needles and wet moss.

Entering the cabin felt like stepping into an open wound. Judy’s knitted throw blanket was still draped over the rocking chair. On the kitchen counter, an unfinished crossword puzzle lay beside a dried-up pen.

I laid Bruce down on the small twin bed in the guest room, tucking the blankets under his chin. He stirred, blinking sleepily.

"Aunt Clara?"

"I’m right here, sweetheart."

"Mom told me Douglas was a wolf in a sheep suit," he murmured, his voice heavy with slumber. "She told me that wolves wait until the sheep are inside the barn before they bite."

My chest tightened until I could barely draw air. "You saved us, Bruce. You saved both of us."

"I remembered," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I kept it safe inside my Captain America box under my bed until this morning."

I kissed his forehead and stepped back out into the darkened living room. The silence was deafening. I sat on the floor with my back against the locked front door, clutching Judy’s crossword puzzle to my chest, and cried until my ribs ached.

Every memory of the past year curdled in my mind. Douglas making me tea when I couldn't sleep; Douglas kneeling beside Bruce to teach him how to ride a bicycle; Douglas holding me at Judy’s funeral, whispering into my hair that he would never let anything hurt us.