Daughter of Deep Silence Read Online Free PDF Page A

and we needed them.”
    I’m not sure whether I’m supposed to say anything in response to his story or not, so I stay silent. “I thought that, maybe, we could help each other out,” he continues. “You took care of my baby as she was dying. Please let me take care of you. I can protect you if the attackers come after you as a witness. You wouldn’t have to go into foster care or have to worry about the state—everything would be taken care of. I wouldn’t have to say good-bye to the last memories of my daughter just yet.”
    He pauses, hands clenching into fists. “And maybe together we can find the bastards who did this.”
    “Are you talking about . . .” I struggle for the right words. “Becoming my guardian, like you did with Shepherd and Luis?” Suddenly, the idea of having a place to go, having a house and a room and a dresser and a person who knows the truth of what happened and could protect me—it’s too much to hope for.
    So when Libby’s father shakes his head, it’s like the last bright spot inside of me shattering.
    “There would be too much paperwork. I learned that with Shepherd and Luis. You’d still end up in the system, a ward of the state. And who knows if they’d even consent to me taking care of you. In the meantime if there are people out there looking for you, they’d find you easily,” he points out.
    “No, what I’m suggesting . . .” He leans forward and sets something on the table between us. I recognize it instantly: Libby’s signet ring. “Is that you switch places with my daughter. That you become Elizabeth Anne O’Martin.
    “It’s the only way to keep you safe.” He pushes the ring toward me. “It’s the only way to figure out who did this and make them pay.”

FIVE
    Four Years Later
    S enator Wells’s voice drones through the car speakers, causing my stomach to churn. It’s another one of his campaign ads and it follows the same theme as all the others:
blah blah blah . . .
Persephone
 . . . blah blah blah . . . rogue wave . . . blah blah blah . . . survivor.
I clench my fists listening, wanting to punch something.
    Four years ago my son and I were on a family cruise when the unthinkable happened: A rogue wave struck our ship, sinking it almost instantly and leaving my son and me stranded in the middle of the ocean. During those three long days lost at sea, I came to truly understand what is important to me in life: the health and security of my family. That’s why every day in Washington I fight for the health and security of
your
family the same way that I fought for my own—because I know how much it matters.
    They say that the measure of a man isn’t in how he faces the expected; it’s in how he faces the unexpected. Four years ago I turned the tragedy of the
Persephone
into the opportunity to better serve my family, my constituents, and my country. If reelected, I won’t stop fighting for South Carolina, and I won’t stop fighting for you. I’m Alastair Wells, and I approve—
    “Turn it off,” I tell the driver. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror before he reaches for the knob and silences the radio. Leaving us enveloped in the sound of tires zooming across concrete as we cross one of the myriad bridges leading to Caldwell Island. Libby’s home.
    My home now
, I remind myself.
    Below, spartina, crisp green in its newness, shimmers across mud flats as the tide drains from the marshes. It’s so different from the mountain meadows I’m used to in Switzerland. Perhaps I’d find it beautiful, even relaxing, if I didn’t know that somewhere on the other end of the bridge the ocean is waiting for me.
    It’s time for her to give up her secrets. She’s been a silent participant in everything: the attack; Libby’s death; my rescue and transformation. And every summer since, she’s been witness to Grey and his father, living out their lies without consequence.
    I’ve come back to put an end to it. Maybe if Senator Wells