“How could you not know?” she interrupted me, suddenly sounding almost sober. “How are you all of a sudden gay?”
I swallowed. I wanted to have this conversation, I really did, but was this the right time for it? The right place?
I decided the right time and place would probably never come.
“I have always been gay,” I said.
“But how is that possible?” she asked. “What about Dad?”
“I fell in love with your father, and we wanted to have children. I wanted a life like everyone else, and where I come from, with how I was brought up, it simply wasn’t an option to be gay.”
“So, you don’t love Dad. Is that it? Can’t you just get a normal divorce like normal people?”
“I love your father, I still do. It’s just different now. I can’t live a lie any longer.”
“So, it was all just a mistake? Me? William? Zack?”
I grabbed her arm and made her look into my eyes. “No! I don’t regret a single thing. It was never a mistake, any part of it. I just couldn’t ignore who I was anymore. Someday you’ll understand.”
I hope.
She pulled away. “I don’t think I will ever understand. I can’t believe you would do this to us, and to Dad. Everyone will be talking about us because of you. Everyone.”
Charlene got out of the car, before I could say anything, slamming the door behind her as she stormed into the house. I watched her go, feeling a mix of sadness and frustration. She was my daughter, and I loved her more than anything, but this really hurt.
I sat in the car for a few minutes, letting myself calm down before making my way inside. As I walked through the house, the sounds of Charlene slamming doors echoed through the halls. I sighed, knowing that we had a long road ahead of us. But I was determined to be there for her, to help her get through this. I had to. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth doing ever was.
SIXTY-THREEMARISSA
Marissa couldn’t stand the wait. It was simply unbearable. She knew she had no other choice but to let them take her from her, again, yet it still terrified her. Marissa had been trapped in the sweltering shed for hours, her mind and body slowing as the intense heat weakened her. She had given Emma away to her kidnapper, freely, and asked that she be taken to a doctor, and since then a terrible silence had been her only companion, slowly filling her with a growing sense of desperation. Being without her beloved daughter again felt like the end of the world.
Where is she? Where’s my baby girl? Is she okay?
Just as Marissa was about to succumb to despair, and fell crying to her knees, the door to the shed opened with a loud creak. Instinctively, she shrank away in fear, her heart thundering in her chest. Standing in the doorway was the man she had let take Emma, even if she didn’t know if he would help her or not. He was a large, powerful figure, his face obscured in the shadows of the doorway.
He surveyed her with a dispassionate eye, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.
Did she even dare talk to him?
Marissa had nothing to say, no words to plead her case or plead for her daughter’s safety. All she could do was stare at the figure, waiting for whatever fate he had in store for her. After what seemed like an eternity, the man finally spoke.
“It is done,” he said, his voice deep and hollow like the rumble of distant thunder. “Your daughter has been taken to the doctor. Now, it’s time for you to go.”
“Where is she?” she managed to gasp out, trembling with dread.
He didn’t answer, yet raised his belt and wrapped it around her neck in a swift movement.
In a flash Marissa felt the leather biting into her skin, and before she could even register what was happening the man tightened his grip around her throat and snarled through gritted teeth, “You’ll never see your daughter again.”
“Please!”
Tears stung Marissa’s eyes as she shook her head frantically and tried to grab the belt and pull at it. Between gasps she pleaded for him to at least spare her daughter’s life. Knowing it may cost her own, she begged desperately between sobs.
“Please! She’s just a child! Please don’t hurt her!”
But the man only tightened his grip further until Marissa felt faint from lack of air.
SIXTY-FOURBILLIE ANN
I arrived at the police station a little late the next morning. I needed some sleep, and I didn’t get a lot of it the night before. I knew something was up when I saw Big Tom waiting for me by the door. His face was grim as he approached me and said, “They’ve arrested Pete Perez.”
“What? Why?” I asked. “I let him go.”
Tom shrugged. “Ask the Chief. He ordered it. He wants to see you in his office as soon as you get in.”
I was shocked. What had happened? Why did they arrest Cassandra’s dad? I knew we had the hair, but I just didn’t think he was our guy. I had made that decision. As the head of homicide. I ran down the hall and into the Chief’s office. He motioned for me to sit down as he looked at me gravely.
This was my case, I was the head of homicide, and a decision like that should belong to me. Why hadn’t he at least told me this was happening? It wasn’t right. My anger boiling, I looked at the Chief, and asked, “Why did you arrest Pete Perez?”
The Chief sighed heavily. “Because of the hair at the crime scene in Henderson’s condo—it matched his DNA. That’s enough for me. It should be for you too. It was a full lock of hair found on the floor, and some of it still clutched in the hands of the victim. He was pulling his hair to make him let go of the belt, he was fighting for his life. I should rather be asking you, why did you let him go? You certainly weren’t following procedure. He should have been booked, and you know it. The hair is strong evidence. Enough for a conviction.”
“But… I literally just got the report this morning from the medical examiner’s office, and the blood on the piece of glass and the blood found in Ashley’s apartment didn’t match his DNA, even if they did match each other.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I think the DNA found at the crime scene weighs a little heavier.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “His hair at the scene doesn’t mean he killed Bryan Henderson! And it’s certainly not enough to prove he killed his own daughter,” I exclaimed. “It could be circumstantial evidence! There must be more to this story.”
The Chief nodded grimly. “Yes, there is more—a witness saw someone fitting his description entering Alex Johnson’s house in Sebastian, where Ashley and he were, around the time of their murders. We believe these pieces of evidence are enough to prove that Pete Perez, Cassandra’s father, is the killer.”
