As I drove, it became clearer and clearer to me that I needed to come clean to her.
For as long as I could remember since the case, I had been holding in a secret. It was something that I swore I’d never tell anyone, something I swore I’d take to my grave. But I knew that it was an important detail, and something that Laney should probably know. She may even make a connection that I was overlooking.
Still, I wasn’t going to tell Sloan. I’d have to make her promise to keep it to herself; otherwise, everything I’d gone through would be for nothing. Whether I could trust her or not wasn’t totally clear, but I knew I had to take the chance.
If I was going to catch the bastard, I had to do everything I could.
Now, I had Sloan working with me. He knew just about as much as I did, and he would likely have more resources. Once he had the full case file, maybe he’d even be able to crack the fucking thing.
Ultimately, I didn’t care who caught the guy, so long as he was caught and the killings stopped.
I hated asking for help. I hated needing help. But I knew I needed Laney and the police department. I wasn’t in the FBI anymore. I didn’t have a partner or the resources that I had once been used to.
I turned into the driveway to our house. The lights were mostly off, and our parents still weren’t home. I knew Laney was upstairs somewhere, and she had better have the security system set.
I climbed out of my car and walked up toward the front door.
I almost overlooked it. I almost walked right past it. But luckily, as I glanced down to pick out the door key from my keychain, I noticed the small brown envelope on the ground right next to the doormat.
It didn’t have any writing or postage. I bent over and gingerly picked it up.
It felt light, but there was something clearly inside it.
Curious, I tore open the top and reached inside.
It was square and plastic-feeling. I pulled it out.
My fucking heart almost stopped.
I dropped it instantly, my eyes wide, shock ringing through my core.
On the ground, staring up at me, was my dead partner’s face immortalized in his FBI badge.
Martin’s FBI badge.
My old partner’s badge sat alone on my front door step, staring back at me from the past.
21
Laney
I heard the door open downstairs and the alarm go off. Fear shot through me briefly until the system was disabled a second later.
“Dad?” I called out. “Easton?”
I walked down the stairs and saw him. He looked haggard, and the look in his eyes sent shivers down my spine.
“Easton, what’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “I . . . fuck,” he mumbled, trailing off. He held out a brown envelope.
I took it and looked inside. Worry flooded my mind. I’d never seen Easton speechless before, much less not trying to hide it. Inside the envelope, I found a plastic badge and pulled it out.
“Martin Rodriguez? Is this your partner?”
He nodded slowly. “That’s his badge.”
“How could his badge end up here?”
“I don’t know, Laney. I found it outside on the steps.”
It hit me immediately. “The killer?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. The killer.”
Chills ran down my spine. “He was here.”
“Right outside.”
“Easton.” My eyes went wide. “What does this mean?”
The fear in his expression was slowly being replaced by anger and exhaustion. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Come on.” He led me away from the door and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed himself a beer, cracking it open. I shook my head when he offered me one. “It’s a long story,” he said, sitting down across from me.
“I read about what happened. In the files.”
“The files are wrong.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Aren’t they based on what you said happened?”
“Laney,” he said slowly, “I lied about what happened that night.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
He sighed. “Most of what I said happened, but one key detail is different. Just . . . listen.”
I sat back, afraid and mystified, as he began to talk. I could see it all, every detail, almost like a movie in my head.
Martin was older, in his fifties, and was on his way out, which was part of why they matched him up with Easton to begin with. Easton figured they wanted to try to teach him something, maybe give him some wisdom from the old guard.
The only thing Easton had learned so far was that Martin hated the rain.
“It’s always like this when we’re on a stakeout,” he grumbled.