Page 119 of Bad Intentions

So, my father was dead.

Was I sad? Not really. Was I angry? Yes. That psycho killed a man.

I followed her when she took Josie. I stayed outside the barn, listening to her insane story. Mallory Blain was a killer who ruined many lives. Killing my father? I didn’t fret much. But my mother? That just wouldn’t do.

Shooting Mallory Blain was an exercise in justice. Either I killed her, or she killed Josie Boots, and I was looking forward to getting to know my half sister. Still am.

There’s another thing on my agenda today, the most important yet. The way I look at it, it’s the only good thing that came from James Derek Sickler.

I pull out my phone.

I’ve done a lot of research and paid plenty of private investigators to track the people I’m about to send the email to. There might be more. Not everyone will respond, and that’s okay. However it plays out, I’m looking forward to what happens.

I put the recipients in the email: Rika, Josie, Devon, John, Leah, Caleb, Matt, Anne.

And then I write the first lines:

Hello, everyone.

You don’t know each other yet, but I hope that will change soon.

One day, I’d like to meet all of you.

My name is Connor, and I am the son of James Derek Sickler.

You might have never heard of him, but we all have one thing in common⁠—

he is our biological father.