Page 84 of The Overnight Guest

Wylie lowered the book and looked out over the crowd who stared back at her with rapt attention. Most knew by now that Wylie was Josie Doyle and that Becky and her daughter had miraculously survived after years of being locked in a basement, but still it was a shocking story.

Margo Allen dabbed her eyes with a tissue, Josie rifled through her grandmother’s purse, and Becky looked down at the floor.

Hands shot up and Wylie began fielding questions.When did you decide to become a writer? Why true crime? Why did you decide to write your own story? How does Becky Allen feel about the book? Are you still in contact with Becky and her daughter?

“Becky Allen and her daughter,” Wylie said, “are the bravest, strongest people I’ve ever known. I hope the world will let them have their privacy.”

“But you wrote a book about her tragedy. How does Becky feel about it?” a woman in the crowd asked.

Before the book went to print, Wylie offered to send the manuscript to Becky so she could read it, so she could share her input. Wylie told her, unequivocally, that she would pull the plug on the book if Becky wanted her to.

“I don’t need to read it,” Becky had said. “I trust you.”

Wylie looked to the back of the room for the final confirmation and Becky gave her a sad smile and nodded.

“Becky gave her approval,” Wylie told the audience. “I wouldn’t have finished the book—I wouldn’t have released it without her blessing. It was our tragedy, both of ours. Over the years we shared this nightmare in different places and different ways, but we shared it.” Wylie bit back her tears. “And we came out on the other side. I’m so grateful to have my friend back.”

The room filled with applause.

An hour later, once the last book was signed, the last picture taken, Wylie thanked the library director and she and Seth made their way toward the exit where Becky, Josie, and Margo were waiting just outside.

“I can’t believe you made the drive over here,” Wylie exclaimed.

“It wasn’t far and we wanted to surprise you,” Becky said with a grin. She looked completely different than the last time Wylie had seen her. The swelling in her face and the bruises were gone and were replaced with the features Wylie remembered most about her friend. Her dimples and bright smile. But still, scars remained some visible, some less so.

“Hi, Wylie,” Josie said shyly. Josie, too, had changed. Her shorn hair now fell below her chin in a mass of wild dark curls. She had grown a few inches taller, and her thin, emaciated frame had filled out some.

“Look at you,” Wylie said pulling Josie into a tight hug. “You’ve grown a foot. And you,” Wylie said grabbing Becky’s hand, “you look amazing.”

Becky and Josie did look better but there was a wariness in their eyes, a haunted look that made Wylie want to cry. Instead, she looked around for Seth. “And this is my son. Come here, Seth.”

“Hi, Seth,” Becky said. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Seth nodded. Becky began peppering Seth with questions about his summer plans and Margo drew Wylie aside.

“Becky and Josie told me everything you did to help them,” Margo said, squeezing Wylie’s hand. “I know I wasn’t kind to you...”

“It’s okay,” Wylie said shaking her head. “I understand—I really do. And as much as Becky and Josie say I helped them, they saved me too.”

Margo’s eyes glittered with tears. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing them back to me.”

Wylie didn’t know what else to say and was grateful when the moment was interrupted. “Anyone hungry?” Becky asked. “There’s a little bar and grill just around the corner. Do you have time to grab a bite?” she asked Wylie.

Wylie looked to Seth who nodded. “I’m starved,” he said.

The group began walking and Wylie and Becky lagged a bit behind and watched as Seth entertained Josie and Margo with funny stories of their time on the road.

“We have great kids,” Becky said. She lifted her face to the evening sun, basking at the feel of it on her skin. Wylie did the same. Since the snowstorm, she had tried not to take small, ordinary moments for granted.

“Yes, we do,” Wylie agreed, then hesitated before asking the question she had been wanting to ask Becky for a long time. “Are you really planning on staying in Burden? Isn’t it hard? I couldn’t wait to get far away from there.”

Becky shook her head. “My mom’s there. And my dad. My brother and sister aren’t far. I can’t leave. I just got back.”

Wylie tried to understand. “Don’t you worry about Josie growing up in a place where everyone knows what happened? Doesn’t she have nightmares? Don’t you? I know Randy Cutter is dead, but you and Josie could come and stay with us in Oregon.”

The more Wylie said it out loud, the more it sounded like a good idea. There was nothing in Burden anymore for Becky and Josie—nothing but bad memories. “You could get a job when you’re ready and there’s a great elementary school for Josie right near my house. Your family could come visit you there anytime. They’d understand. How could they not understand?”

Becky stopped walking. “It is hard being there, but I think it would be hard anywhere. We both have nightmares. More than nightmares,” Becky amended. “I dream that we’re back there, in that basement. I can actually feel the concrete beneath my feet, can smell him. And Josie, well... We’re both talking to a counselor. It helps some.” When Wylie didn’t look convinced, Becky took a breath and tried again.

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