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Chapter Thirty-Four

KAT

My phone rings as I step through the front door. Pulling it from my purse, it’s my realtor.

“Hello,” I answer with agitation.

“Good news, Katherine. The house is officially listed, and I already have someone who wants to look at it.”

“Did you tell them a murder took place here?”

“Well, of course not. We don’t have to disclose that information in New York. But if the potential buyers ask, I’m obligated to tell the truth. What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?”

I make a mental note: Ask the realtor if anyone was murdered in the home before I buy.

“When do they want to see it?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

“Fine. I’ll make sure I’m out of the house.”

“Excellent. I’ll be in touch.”

Her happy, chipper voice irritates me, and I’m happy our conversation is over. With the house officially listed, I know I must begin my search for a new place to live. The apartment directly below Samantha's was snatched up within hours of being listed, leaving me with no chance to call the landlord in time.

I pour some red wine into a crystal glass, the liquid sloshing as I carry it to the couch. With trembling hands, I lower myself onto the soft cushions and take a long sip, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Detective Walker's words echo in my mind, each one like a knife twisting in my gut. A cold chill runs down my spine as I contemplate this revelation about my parents' true identities. I don’t believe her. She said such horrible things, trying to get a confession out of me—to confess to something I didn’t do. But if she were telling the truth, I would need answers, and I wouldn’t stop until I got them. I pick up my phone and call her.

“Detective Walker.”

“It’s Katherine Tate. You said my real mother murdered my father. If she did, then she’s in prison somewhere. I need to know which one so I can talk to her.”

“I’m sorry, Katherine, but your mother passed away ten years ago. She hung herself in her cell.”

I gasp and place my hand over my mouth.

“Katherine, are you still there?”

“Yes,” I speak softly. “Thank you, Detective Walker.” I end the call and pull up flights to Richmond, Virginia. Even though Detective Walker told me not to leave town, I am. My entire life has been a lie, and I need answers.

Before I head to the police station, I stop at the library and search for all the murders that took place in the area twenty-five years ago. I stumble upon an article that makes my stomach churn.

Wife Stabs Husband to Death in Front of Five-Year-Old Daughter in Chester

Renee Fields, age thirty, stabbed her husband twenty-two times after discovering the affair he had been having for twenty-two months. According to the police, the brutal crime was discovered after Mrs. Fields called 911, confessing to killing her husband. When the police arrived at the home, they found Katherine Fields, age five, and the daughter of Renee Fields, crouching in the corner of the living room with splatters of blood on her face and bloody handprints on the arms of her shirt. Detective Song states it was one of the worst crime scenes he’d ever seen.

I cup my mouth as terror rushes through me. I pull my phone from my pocket, call the Chester Police Department, and ask if Detective Song still works there. To my surprise, the officer on the phone tells me yes.

With shaking hands, I climb into my rental car and punch the address of the police station into the GPS. I ask for Detective Song when I arrive, and the kind female officer leads me to him.

“How can I help you?” He stares at me.

“I need to speak to you about a murder that happened here twenty-five years ago. You were the lead detective.”

“Okay.” His brows furrow. “Have a seat. Which case?”

“Renee Fields.”

His face pales at the mention of her name.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Apparently, I’m the daughter who witnessed my mother kill my father.”

“Katherine?” His head cocks.

“Yes. ”

“I’ll be damned.” He shakes his head. “You have grown up into a beautiful woman. How are you?”

“Not good, detective. I need you to tell me what happened that night.”

“Why?”

“Because the Yearns adopted me, and I just found out. They never told me who I really was or that I was adopted. My entire life, they led me to believe that I was their biological daughter. I have no memory of this woman named Renee or that I witnessed a murder. All I’m asking for is some answers so I can move on with my life.”

“I found you crouched in the living room corner when I walked into the house. Your mother was sitting upright on the couch and told me to ensure you were taken care of. I contacted the social worker, who took you to the Yearns’ that night. I had just made detective; it was my first homicide case as the lead. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time. The look on your face frightened me, and a part of me hoped you would recover. I kept in touch with the Yearns, and after they decided to adopt you as their own, they moved to Richmond. They wanted you away from Chester and all the bad memories here. They gave you a new life, Katherine.”

“And I’m grateful to them for that, but they also lied to me my entire life.”

“Did you express how you felt when they told you?”

“They didn’t tell me. They were killed in a car accident a year before I graduated from law school.”

“Oh gee, Katherine. I’m sorry. I had no idea. If they didn’t tell you, who did?”

It wasn’t any of his concern, and I wasn’t about to tell him anything. I was only here to get information. So, I deflected the question and steered the conversation back to its original purpose.

“What else did Renee say when you interrogated her?” I ask.

He inhales a sharp breath and leans back in his chair. He then picks up a pen from his desk and taps it against the metal edge.

“She said all men who cheat on their girlfriends or wives need to be punished for their sins. She told me that God told her to punish him. Your mother was a very sick woman.”

“She wasn’t my mother,” I say, looking out the window of the precinct. “Did she say anything else?”

“Not really. She just wanted to make sure you were cared for because she knew she would be spending the rest of her life in prison. I guess it got to be too much for her, though.”

“Thank you, Detective Song.” I stand from my chair and extend my hand. He places his hand in mine and gently shakes it. As I begin to walk away, he calls my name.

“Katherine?”

“Yeah?” I turn and face him.

“I’m happy you don’t remember anything about that night. The Yearns did right by keeping what happened and who you were from you. No child would be able to escape those memories.”

“Was anyone else there that night?” I ask. “I mean, in the house when you arrived?”

“No. It was only you, your mom, and your dad. Why?”

“Just curious.” I walk away and leave the precinct.