Scourge3

Chapter 1

London Winchester

It was a little intimidating to be in a room filled with so many seasoned investigators, experts in their fields, but have them all looking to me for our next move made my skin crawl.

For starters, before coming to Darkwater Bay, I knew of Dr. Lawanda Booker by reputation only—it was impeccable. She'd been the most highly sought-after forensic pathologist in the country, if not the world, for her ability to sift through human carnage and discern clues others might've missed.

Yet Darkwater Bay snagged and bagged her, first with an agreement to offer temporary services in the aftermath of yet another medical examiner who'd gone off the legal rails left a mess that needed to be sorted out. But she stayed. For some unimaginable reason, she'd stayed.

Ken Forsythe was on par with any forensic expert I'd encountered. The evidence took him wherever it honestly led. He wasn't one of these guys prone to manipulating results to fit a theory. Beyond that, in my very minuscule tenure around here, it was obvious that he was determined to keep his division on the cutting edge of new tools in the examination of evidence and methods of detection that were faster and more precise than they'd been even a few short years ago. Admirable. My experience with older people was that they tended to be set in their ways, often training up others in the mentality that how they learned to do something was an always and forever proposition.

Eriksson's professional résumé needed no examination from my perspective. Anybody working in the field of forensic psychology knew her background, tried to make sense of how she processed information in an effort to duplicate her success, while avoiding her unique pitfalls in the process of achievement.

Johnny Orion didn't have a national reputation, but based on my limited exposure to him, the conversations we'd shared and understanding his reputation in Darkwater Bay, it was clear to me that he'd earned his stellar reputation in a sea of other investigators, lawyers and judges.

Yet they were all looking at me. What did I think? How did any of this make sense to me?

The short answer was, it did and it didn't.

Forsythe cleared his throat. We got the DNA analyzed as requested, he said.

Which DNA? Helen piped up.

The comparison of the seminal fluid and vaginal secretions from John Doe to that of Steve Johnson, Alec said.

I'd completely forgotten, Helen said.

We got a partial match on the seminal fluid to the DNA taken from Steve Johnson, Forsythe said.

Consistent with what we'd expect to find, Helen nodded. They would only share a quarter of the other's genetic information.

How's that? Sandoval asked.

Because Christophe and his brother shared a mother, not a father, and Steve got half his DNA from his dad, the other half from his mom, which would give him half of a half of the same DNA as his father's illegitimate brother, I said.

He nodded, but didn't look like he quite followed.

That ain't the disturbing part, Lawanda huffed. There was first degree consanguinity between the DNA from the seminal fluid and the vaginal secretions found on John Doe's body.

I covered my eyes partially with the hand that smacked into my forehead.

You were right, Alec murmured. It was an extremely close, long-term relationship between Christophe and his partner.

Again, what the hell is consanguinity? I get it that first degree is the worst imaginable, Sandoval said.

It means it's a parent/child relationship genetically, Alec snapped at his partner. Jesus Christ, Sandoval. How can you be this clueless with the science after all these years?

Cut me some slack, Sandoval snarled. It isn't every day we get a case where some dude is boffing his daughter.

This fits with what Dr. Collier said people suspected about Christine Honeycutt's real biological relationship with Bob Honeycutt, I said.

You were right all along, London, Helen's statement dripped with remorse. The real killer is still out there somewhere.

But she'll decompensate quickly without Christophe, right? Sandoval asked.

I'm not so sure about that, I said. I presumed that he was the organized partner, but if the trail we were following before the decision was made to arrest Christophe Wilson was correct, we're looking for a very brazen sociopath. She didn't care who knew what she was. She enjoyed eliciting fear.

London, we need the three of you to explain all of this, Orion said. Not all of us were privy to y-your, he paused and took a deep breath. Your leads were taking you somewhere. We need to understand that aspect of the investigation.

Before Raun and Alec bring you up to speed, I said, I feel compelled to say this for the record. I turned to Helen. No regrets, Helen. Getting Christophe into custody was absolutely the right call. We know they killed another victim.

Juan Doe, Lawanda piped up. No prints—same thing as the first victim, though this time, the scabs on the fingertips were still soft, partial thickness wounds, which led me to conclude they were a few days old rather than weeks like John Doe number one. Juan's disfigurement was different too—

Hold off on that, Orion interrupted. I want the background on our other suspect first.

Sandoval and Alec took turns filling in the blanks, the animal poisonings early in the same neighborhood that eventually became mutilations. The cessation of those with a resumption in Darkwater proper, switching from pets to wild squirrels, and our conversation with Dr. Henry Collier.

So he identified the owner of the very first poisoned animal reported to the police—

Helen interrupted Sandoval, Though God only knows how many there were before that one were unreported to the police. Who thinks to report a dead animal to the police?

Someone who loved his pet very much, that's for sure, Alec said. But Helen, you're wrong. London thinks this might well be her first kill. It was her father's dog.

Shit, she muttered, peering at me intently. Sometimes, I really do need to shut my mouth and open my ears.

It's not like we don't have Wilson in custody, along with additional charges to file now that Captain Forsythe shared the DNA results from John Doe number one's body, I said. We can go after him again and again, with every bit of leverage we can find. However…

Yeah, she grunted. He's not going to be cooperative with us in any way, shape or form.

She's his daughter, Helen. We simply need to find out what happened to Christine Honeycutt, and where she is now, I said. We have the answers. We know who the partner is, the one who enjoys torture. Believe me. I spent all of last night searching every database I could looking for Christine Honeycutt. I even thought it might be prudent to search for her using the surname Wilson. At this point, we're waiting for the Bureau of Vital Statistics to cooperate with the marriage and divorce records of Bob Honeycutt and his wife.

It's early, Alec said. They'll get to our request when they get to it. Nothing we can do about that, other than be thankful that they've never given law enforcement any flack about warrants and such to get those records.

I have a call into the owner of a duplex in Darkwater proper that was destroyed by fire a few months after a girl named Christine and her mother moved in about twelve years ago, Sandoval said. Mrs. Lavada Gross identified that the little girl who posed a mutilated squirrel in her yard was someone known as Christine who lived in the duplex that burned to the ground not long after the squirrel incident. She never knew the family, since the community wasn't as tight-knit as the one in Bay View was where Christine lived with her parents before the divorce.

The Department of Children and Families is our next hurdle, I said. "Alec's sister Alyssa was actually in the same grade as Christine, though the children seemed to bully her by calling her pissy Chrissy at school."

Not fair, Alec murmured. London, you make it sound like Alyssa and her friends at school were the aggressors. They were terrified of Christine.

Guys, Johnny intervened. Let's stay on task. Nobody's pointing any fingers at your sister, Alec. As far as DCFS is concerned, Zack and I can work together to hammer out those issues, not only with the department itself, but with our judicial resources as well. To my way of seeing things, Judge Kent Spicer still owes us a great debt of gratitude. If that doesn't translate into a major favor in terms of unsealing a juvenile case that no doubt landed in family court, I don't know what does.

I murmured an aside to Alec. Who is Judge Spicer, and why does he owe the Orions a favor?

No clue, he whispered. We'll look into it later.

But Orion continued. As most of you know, Zack is trying to deal with the disposition of our current charges against Ashley Snow this morning. Her attorney revoked Snow's request for a bench trial, and they're talking about when jury selection will begin.

Not to be the one to point out the obvious here, but there is no statute of limitations on murder. Ash Walton Snow is high profile enough that there's nowhere for her to go where we won't find her should we later recover additional evidence that would allow her to be prosecuted for murder, I said. I'd rather not continue to split our focus where she's concerned right now, not when Christophe's partner is still out there somewhere posing a threat to…perhaps this would be a good time for Lawanda to give us more information about Juan Doe, whom I can only presume is Hispanic.

He sho' was, Lawanda nodded. You ready commander? she asked.

Helen cleared her throat. Chief, now, Lawanda.

Yeah, I hear that, she grinned. Congratulations.

It had been officially announced this morning at a press conference Commissioner Julliard held this morning before we met.

Crevan Conall sat at the table quietly, fingers tented in front of his mouth. It was the first time he showed any emotion in our conversation at all. It came in the form of a chuckle. Glad to see all of you are so broken up over my resignation.

Oh Crevan, Helen slugged him with the back of her hand. Everyone knew you were miserable. You're not anymore. Are we supposed to express regret that you're actually moving to a position that puts a little fire in your belly?

Lawanda, if I could get the details of your examination of Juan Doe, it would be helpful, I directed the conversation back to the pertinent topic.

Hispanic male, age late forties to early fifties. This guy wasn't gutted like the other fella, she said. On the contrary, he died relatively quick-like. A few days at most. Guy had tattoos all over his body, also showed signs of chronic homelessness at the same time. Tox screen is pending, but judgin' by the oral hygiene, or lack thereof, fella had a pretty bad case of meth mouth.

Cause of death? I persisted.

Blood loss, but slow, not like it was some sort of quick exsanguination, Ms. London, she drawled. Your little psycho done took a scalpel to those tattoos.

She removed them? I leaned forward.

Oh no, our gal ain't that straightforward. She apparently didn't want to take his ink away. She did want to carve it a little deeper than the dermal layer. She etched those marks down into the subcutaneous fat.

So he essentially bled out through veins and capillaries? I confirmed.

Yeah. Sick, ain't it? And it took some real time and care to do that. Ol' Juan had tattoos all over his back, his chest, his arms and his neck. Best I can tell, she saved the neck for last. Most folks ain't got as much subcutaneous fat on the neck as other parts of the body. Makes it harder to miss the major vessels. Poor Juan had a whole slew of nicks to the jugular veins on both sides of the neck. That's how he bled out for good. Though he'd have been in pretty poor condition prior to the last session from the other blood loss.

Alec was white as a sheet.

Sandoval was more of a green than pale color.

Did the Wood's Light show another message? I asked Forsythe.

Oh yeah. Same as the first one. The sigma squared symbol.

We didn't doubt who committed this crime, Helen said. Wilson was caught red-handed dumping another body.

True, I said. But it implies that even though they knew we had his partner's burner phone number, they had no idea we'd zeroed in on them for anything more than suspicion that Wilson knew something about Courtney's death. Disappearance, rather, at that point.

Except my observation of the suspicious reddish-brown spatter on his boots would've tipped off anyone with half a brain that I suspected it was blood.

Still, Helen, I argued. Even I doubted that the Snow case had any correlation at all with John Doe, nor did it occur to me that Courtney might've been the female unsub. I know all of this still feels weirdly connected somehow, but for the life of me, I can't seem to figure out why.

Because it can't be a coincidence that while Christophe was dumping the body in Prospect Park that Kyra Pepper got the call from dispatch about the anonymous tip leading to Courtney's remains. What was that, if not a diversion of resources? Alec asked.

He has a point, Crevan said. Though how Christophe and his partner knew we were focused on finding Courtney is no mystery, how they knew where her body was certainly is.

Unless we can break Wilson's alibi for his whereabouts when Courtney was killed, he couldn't have been involved in hers or Steve's murders, Helen said. It's pretty tough to fool Immigration and Customs. That stamp on his passport will comport with the records from the government.

Unless…

What, London? Alec said.

"Christine last-name-unknown is in fact the biological daughter of Christophe Wilson."

Right, Helen nodded. Nobody's disputing that, honey.

I shook my head. "Steve was thirty at the time of his death. Courtney was twenty-two years old. If Uncle Christophe had a daughter, isn't it reasonable that they would've known her?"

Helen clamped her mouth shut.

Orion muttered, Shit. There's the link to the Snow case.

This is a wild theory, but here it is, I said. "And I have no evidence to back it up, other than the fact that we know Christine and Christophe had some sort of abominable relationship as daughter and father. Christophe also said to you and Marquez that he was estranged from his brother because they—"

Didn't see eye to eye on things, Helen groaned. Maybe Joe Johnson knew or at least suspected the depth of Christophe's relationship with his illegitimate daughter.

Slow down, Helen, I cautioned. But in one sense you're right, in another…well, I'm not entirely convinced Christophe was intentionally having sex with his own child, or if he was even aware that Christine was his.

How the hell do you figure that? Marquez piped up.

Because of what Ashley Snow said to Helen at the jail Thursday, I said.

Helen shot out of her seat and started pacing. They didn't see eye to eye because he was the creepy uncle. Ash had no reason to lie about the vibe she got from Christophe. Zero reason at all. London, are you thinking what I'm thinking?

That Courtney and Steve Johnson's murders might've had nothing to do with the Snow case, but just some eerily weird timing, maybe the ruse that would bring Christophe back home to Darkwater Bay? I asked.

She frowned. Okay, not where my brain went, but…huh. She sat again, eyes all vacant and spaced out.

Oh God, Crevan groaned. Here she goes again.

I stared pointedly at him. What does that mean?

You spit out your weird, off-the-cuff theories. Helen goes to the outer edges of the universe with hers, he said, poking his sister in the deltoid repeatedly. Earth to Helen. You have a partner now who I suspect, won't put up with this silent rumination bullshit from you.

Helen, where did my comment make you go? I asked.

Which one? Helen asked.

The one you suspected we shared.

She waved me aside. Your theory actually makes more sense. She's a psycho, complete and unadulterated, a sadist, someone who gets off on hurting people.

No argument there, Alec agreed. But I too, would like to hear what thought you wondered if London shared with you—presumably about Ash Snow's motivation to be truthful versus lying this time.

Helen's mouth twisted into an odd knotted shape. Oh, well, just that if Ash laid the blame on missing Courtney thinking she'd gone into hiding, never to be found, only to discover we found Steve's remains in the location where they were all supposed to meet, perhaps she acquired a reason to show enough fear to be cooperative after all.

Because Steve's murder surprised her, I said. And she really was afraid Courtney was dead too.

It could've been a blessing, Forsythe said. No living witness to contradict her.

I shook my head. "On the surface, that might well be logical, Ken, but when you go beneath the surface into the psyche of someone who has far more answers than she's been willing to share, the death of Steve Johnson absolutely introduced an unknown element into the crimes.

I'd like to talk to her again, I said. Helen?

Agreed. Do you want me to tag along?

Perhaps, I said, glancing at Alec. Although her reaction to Detective Krypsek might provide an additional stimulus.

London, she hated me, Alec protested.

Helen started laughing. She did indeed, Lucky.

No way, man. Better to have the one she fears, he argued. You're the one with the sketchy rep when it comes to cutting corners getting answers, Eriksson. Better you go with London.

Helen was scowling post everything once the word sketchy came up.

What is it with you kids? she muttered. Have you no respect for your elders?

Helen, I don't think Alec meant to offend you. He made a poor choice in words reiterating our discussion of why they would have cause to fear you, or perhaps not be able to profile your behavior as easily as they would other police detectives, I said.

He turned to me. No, I said the exact word I meant. Sure, she closes a shit ton of cases, but how many are closed with a verdict and not a dead body?

Johnny cleared his throat. Detective, that's enough. You have no idea what you're talking about. Or do I have cause for concern that you and your former partner have more in common from the years of service together as partners than I once thought?

I reached out and gripped Alec's hand. What's gotten into you? I said softly.

I'm not like Kyra, he said irritably. "And I don't like that woman."

I knew who he meant, but Helen bristled, misunderstanding again.

I intervened quickly. I know Ash pushed your buttons, Alec, but you have to admit, you pushed hers just as hard, if not harder. It was that interaction that made her show her hand more than her previous behavior or statements had. When she made that statement through her attorney, we knew exactly what she was capable of in terms of deception and manipulation. You did that. You helped get her, Alec.

Helen relaxed instantly. Alec, trust me. I dislike her as much as you do. People who make you feel that degree of frustration are typically trying to manipulate you. But you have the knowledge of who and what she really is now.

If you mean I don't buy that bullshit story she told, you're damn right. I still think she killed J.J. Snow and his friends, tried to set up Jimmy for the whole mess, used Courtney's hatred and fear of her husband to provide her not just the means to shoot everyone, but to take the blame from Jimmy for giving her the weapon in the first place. I don't know how she set up Jimmy and Odie Odenthal for rape, but I don't doubt for a second that she did it.

Exactly why you should accompany London to talk to her, Helen said. You're less likely to get some wild idea and run off without finishing the conversation.

He had the good sense to let his face speak an apology for him. Sorry, he muttered. I didn't think you were out of line getting Wilson off the streets, for the record.

No, but you, London and Sandoval were all on the right track, Johnny said. "And perhaps since we know Zack's office is busy dealing with voir dire with potential jurors this morning, meaning that Ash won't be available for a conversation anytime soon, we should refocus on the other aspects we can produce results from today. London? Any specifics you want from the team?"

If you could pull whatever strings you can for a case involving a juvenile likely named Christine Honeycutt twelve to fifteen years ago, it would be helpful. And if Captain Conall could get us more information about Christophe Wilson's movements prior to his return to Darkwater Bay, it would help us be sure that he wasn't back in the U.S. prior to what we know was his most recent reentry.

Anything else? Helen asked.

I nodded. I'd like to see Juan Doe's body, I said.

Lawanda cocked her head to one side. You think I missed something?

Not at all, I said. But I can tell you that a forensic pathologist and a forensic psychiatrist look at a victim's remains and can see very different things.

I'm going with her, Helen hiked a thumb at me. We'll meet up with everyone else later, our place, Johnny. I don't want this leaking through the ears at division.

We'll meet up here in admin, he grinned. No more exposure to the kids, Helen. Remember our deal.

She rolled her eyes. Then let's hit it.

Chapter 2

Alec Krypsek

Sandoval slugged me in the arm. You need to hit the gym, bro. It's starting to get to you worse than when she wasn't here.

Shut it, Raun. This thing is easy for you to laugh about. You don't have shit flying at you from the brass and Mrs. Brass every time you glance up. They're not demanding that you jump through flaming hoops of doom because you had the misfortune of being partnered with someone who—for God only knows why—has fallen out of favor yet again.

Sandoval nodded. Ah, I get it. You're pissed because finding Courtney Johnson's body wasn't enough to redeem your old partner in the eyes of Mrs. Boss.

When Orion was the one responsible for giving her a second chance in the first place? I muttered. Hell yeah, it pisses me off. I mean, c'mon, Sandoval. What does she really have to do?

She call you last night after all that shook down? he asked.

Text. And I know what you're gonna say. I told everybody I was done with her after that disaster at Datello's casino a few nights ago. But…shit. Read the text yourself, Raun.

I handed him my unlocked phone and waited until he scrolled through my texts to the ones to and from Kyra.

Heartbroken. I found Courtney Johnson. I stayed on the case and did my job. Still not enough. Followed by a tearful emoji.

Sandoval sighed. "I feel your pain, ese. She was your partner for a long time, and I can't disagree with how she feels. Still, all this shit comes down on her. Nobody put a gun to her head and made her attack Johnny Orion the way she did."

Twice, I mumbled in my misery. She did it again at dinner the other night, Raun. I just don't get it. Orion has women young and old eating out of his hand with little more than a smile and that goddamned dimple. Twice now, she was just…fucking hostile as all hell.

But she's sad, Alec. She knows she screwed up, and now, when she should've gotten some serious points for sticking with the case and following the leads while Elena and Eriksson were off doing something else, she gets smacked on the nose and set to bed without supper. I get it, man. I really do. But don't let her issues become yours.

He was right. I felt not just torn, but confused as hell. The Kyra I knew wasn't the person I'd seen over the past few weeks.

Sandoval's elbow nudged me. What's the rest, the part you're still holding back?

Why Johnny? I asked. "Why not Tucker? Why not me, or you, or Commissioner Julliard? Why not Helen, for crying out loud? She's like a billion times more abrasive than the rest of the city combined. Why pick on Johnny? I've been trying to go over everything in my head for weeks now, hoping for some clue that would help me understand where this shit is coming from, and I just don't see a single clue."

Sandoval shrugged. At the end of the day, what difference does it make? he asked. She shit on someone, and now that someone is our boss' boss. Runs the whole damn department. What happens to Kyra is on her, not on us.

I glared at Sandoval. Would you be this way if it was Marquez went off the chain and acted like a complete stranger? I asked.

"Elena and I go way back, he said. She and her husband have dinner with me and my wife at least once a month. We do shit together, are enmeshed pretty deep beyond the work thing, man. I know her history; she knows mine. Are you saying you and Kyra had that kind of friendship?"

I shrugged. "She was half a class behind me in the academy. I didn't know her before that, and I didn't get to know her much better until Tuck snagged us for his special trainee program for the vice squad. But we didn't do shit outside work. Then again, it didn't seem like we did much but work."

I know. You two idiots picked up all kinds of extra shifts. It's how you caught the Snow case in the first place. But still, all that time on the job, you gotta know more personal stuff about her beyond the job, he said.

I nodded. Some.

But you don't wanna talk about it. Am I right?

She talked about some of the struggles she had in school. University, I clarified. Kyra told me she had to learn to overcome a learning disability.

He frowned. Like what kind?

She gets numbers mixed up sometimes. Like one of the tricks she told me she learned so she stopped dialing wrong numbers was to remember the pattern they make when they're dialed, rather than trying to remember the numbers themselves.

Sandoval chuckled. That's not so bad. Missy does the same thing herself. You should've seen that girl before the smart phone became more common than any other gadget known to man. Now she doesn't even try to remember numbers. She just programs them all into the phone.

I relaxed a little bit, but it still bothered me, this seemingly out of the blue dislike of Johnny Orion. Or…was it really out of the blue?

Memory is a funny thing. Way back in the beginning, the first real case Kyra and I helped Tuck with, Charlie Haverston had the same kind of agitation where Orion was concerned. I wondered what he thought of Johnny's return to the department.

We gonna get on this shit, or what? Christine Honeycutt's records aren't gonna stroll in here on their own, you know, Sandoval said.

"Right. Chief Orion is going to work the angle of sealed juvenile records. Guess that means we get to nag DCFS. In how many languages do you think they'll scream warrant at us when we ask?"

Sandoval grinned. "Major two, and we got that covered, ese. I say forget the phone. Let's show up. Even these lazy bureaucrats should be in the office by now. It's almost ten."

As we were leaving the parking building between division and the court, I noticed Johnny Orion and Tucker McAvoy making their way into the courthouse entrance from the garage.

You know anything about this Spicer guy? I asked.

He nodded. Old case. Eriksson had been in town a little over a year. I think she ended up having the twins as that case closed. Judge Spicer's much older wife ended up getting murdered.

Yikes, I said. I don't recall hearing much about that.

Sure you do. The Briscoe investigation, Sandoval said. Huge blow to the department when ol' Tony retired.

Ah, right, I nodded. My dad said the guy was some kind of legend. Did you ever work with him?

Sandoval laughed as we started making the trek to Downey where DCFS was located. I wish. No, my tenure started with the misfortune of Rogers, Myre, Daltry, Lowe, Martin, a whole slew of yuck. I'm glad those days are long gone. Most of 'em are dead or incarcerated, though to be honest, I'm not really sure what happened to Flynn Myre. Guy was absolutely off his sac. I guess that's another reason the brass is so determined to keep Winchester around—making sure none of us go crazy and aren't fit for duty anymore.

I nodded absently, and let my thoughts drift back to the rift between compassion and rationality. Maybe Kyra did have cause to feel threatened. Yet at the same time, it made no sense, her abrupt behavior change.

The whole thing got tacked onto a growing file in my head labeled Ask London Later. We lapsed into reflective silence until we reached the depressing structure that supposedly offered hope to families with dysfunction. Again, my thoughts turned to London, and inevitably, to Kyra. London had shared a tiny speck of her past with me, and I literally felt like a man dying of thirst with the desire to know everything.

Yet my partner of two and a half years, I didn't ever really recall one time feeling that same curiosity about her life off the job. I didn't ask. She didn't offer. We were both content that way.

So how had she gotten the wrong idea about me? If in fact, she had. Kyra denied being jealous of my attraction to London. Maybe the jealousy was entirely professional. It made more sense, knowing what I did know about how hard Kyra worked to overcome the inherent challenges she faces becoming not just a cop, but a detective as well.

Dude, we're here, Sandoval was staring at me. So help me God, kid, if you don't tell me what's really eating at you—

It's nothing. Sorry. Maybe I haven't had a decent night's sleep all week. Cut me some slack.

"I dunno. I hear the Rosemont has pretty comfy beds. Can't imagine the hide-a-bed sucks that much. Sandoval chuckled. Or perhaps it's that the only bed that's an option isn't the one you prefer."

I said lay off, man. You're pissing me off. Are we going in to find out what they have on the Honeycutts or not?

Sorry. Lucky, I'm only teasing you to try to get you to lighten up. Hell, if I hadn't fallen in love with Missy at her quinceañera, who knows? I'd probably be smitten with Winchester too.

I smirked. Seriously? You've been together since she was fifteen?

Hey, when you know it's right, you don't bail. So yeah, we've been together for more than twenty years. I can't imagine a day without her. We're each other's one and only. Always have been, always will be. You can't say that about many guys and their wives these days. You young bucks are always out there, playing the field.

Not all of us, I said quietly. But then Sandoval didn't know about my parents, how their mutual infidelity had left me and my sisters scarred and cautious. Thanks to them, my parents may have foiled their chance for grandchildren entirely.

We entered the building, finding a run-down space that was still kept neat and tidy. I could smell the air freshener attached near the ceiling in the corner of the room, quietly expelling a pleasant cherry scent.

The woman at the reception desk made eye contact with us and smiled kindly. Good morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?

Sandoval flashed his badge. "I'm Sandoval. This is my