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A loud crackle emitted from the radio of the officer standing in Holly’s driveway. “This is Officer Garza, and I have Jared Peretti in custody—he’s got an active APB on him. I’m en route to book the suspect into Pierce County Jail.”
“Hang on,” John told his dad as another vehicle pulled to a stop in front of Holly’s house.
A white-haired man in a suit jumped out of the unmarked sedan and climbed over the crime scene tape before rushingup Holly’s drive. John recognized him immediately.Detective Harris.He’d hardly changed in the last five years since John had sat across from him in that small interview room at the downtown courthouse.
The uniformed officer held up a hand and stepped in front of the detective. “This is an active crime scene. You can’t—”
“Holly!” the detective yelled, pushing past the officer.
Detective Corrado met him on Holly’s front porch and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Andy.” John heard her say.
“No, no, no!”Andy cried. He sank to his knees.
The two of them must’ve been close, seeing how distraught he was over her death.
It was a shame Holly had to die, John agreed, but it was a wonderful feeling knowing that asshole detective who’d tried to arrest his dad was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars paying for John’s crime.
Served him right.
Epilogue
2013
Tanner folded a piece of gum into his mouth and lifted the small box with the AncestryDNA logo, debating whether or not he wanted to go through with it. He opened the box and pulled out the slim tube for his saliva sample and prepaid mailer to send it back for analysis. If he mailed it tomorrow, he could have a list of his biological relatives, maybe even his parents or a sibling, in six to eight weeks.
Having been adopted through a closed adoption in 1979, this was his best bet for tracking down his birth parents. He set down the box, wondering if they’d ever tried to find him. He doubted it. And if they hadn’t wanted to know him, why should he bother?
There had to be a reason for the closed adoption. He liked to imagine his mother got pregnant young, a teenager even. And while she’d wanted to keep him, she’d been forced by her circumstances to give him up. Or maybe that wasn’t the case at all. Maybe she’d wanted nothing to do with him.
The detective in him needed to know. But the part of him that had been rejected by his birth parents wasn’t sure that hewanted to. He left the opened box on the kitchen counter and went to change into running gear. He needed to clear his head. He’d make the decision when he got back from his run.
Moving through his sparsely furnished Seattle home, he passed a large window with a view of the Sound at the bottom of the hillside. Before he got to his room, his phone rang in his suit jacket pocket.
It was his homicide sergeant. He was next up for a homicide. He knew before taking the call there would be no run tonight. “Detective Mullholland.”
“Mulholland, it’s McKinnon. I just got a call from the chief dispatcher. There’s been a homicide in Queen Anne. A twenty-eight-year-old female was found dead in her home. It appears to be a strangulation. I’ll text you the address.”
“Thanks.” Tanner turned around. “I’m leaving now.”
He ended the call and grabbed the DNA testing kit off the counter, tossing it into the trash on his way out the door. He needed to focus on this new case, not the past.
Some things were better left alone.
***
“Good morning,” John’s receptionist greeted him from behind her desk outside his office.
He rested his briefcase on the corner of her desk. “Good morning, Bryn.”
“Your coffee and this morning’s paper are on your desk,” she added, flipping her long, dark hair behind her shoulder.
“Thank you.” John’s gaze fell to Bryn’s neck. He imagined his hands closing around it, then his late father’s words echoed in his mind.There’s a link to you.It had been over ten years since his dad had died of a heart attack, but John often reflected on all he’d taught him.
With age, John had grown to learn his father was right. He couldn’t kill people he knew—not if he wanted to continue killing and stay out of prison for the rest of his life.
Inside his office, he spun in his chair to gaze at the twenty-story view of the Seattle waterfront beyond the large window behind his desk. His dad would’ve been proud of the life he’d built for himself. He didn’t have to be a shrink to know that his reason for becoming a criminal defense attorney stemmed from his fear as a kid of his father going to prison. As it turned out, John not only loved his job, but he was also damn good at it.
Since his father’s death, John often reflected on the sacrifices his dad had made to protect him, making sure they could continue living their life together—in freedom. He even sacrificed his killing. John had no plans to have children. Instead, he’d committed to carrying out his father’s legacy, killing in a way his father couldn’t.