Page 105 of Ultimate Justice

Crystal rested her head on Blue’s front paws and closed her eyes. In a gesture so gentle, Blue nuzzled the other dog’s ears and sighed, as if in a state of complete and utter contentment.

A big ole chunk of Evan’s heart gave way. Breaking his dog’s heart wasn’t something he could live with, not when there was something he could do about it. He would adopt Crystal, because Blue was head over tail in love. If only he could make decisions about his own love life so easily.

Now that the briefing was over, his thoughts returned to the same topic they always did when he had a quiet moment alone: Marlie.

That day at the camp, he’d been impressed and humbled by her speech to the kids. She’d bared her soul for them.

Where was she right now? What was she doing? Had she filed papers to adopt Noah yet? All questions he wondered about but didn’t have the right to ask.

He nudged his laptop mouse and cued up his email. He stared at the top line. A new email had come in.

From the coroner’s office.

The report he’d been waiting for on the identity of the other girl in the grave. His heart raced like an antelope running from a lion. Did he really want to know what was in that report? Yes. And no. It would either be the end of a lifelong quest…or continuation of the torment that had plagued him for two-thirds of his life.

With slightly shaky fingers, he clicked open the email. The coroner had previously provided preliminary autopsy information. He already knew she was between fourteen and seventeen years old when she died, and the condition of the body indicated that had been at least twenty years ago, maybe more. Twenty years ago, Gracie would have been sixteen.

The attachment was slow to open. While he waited, Evan tapped his fingers on the desk.

To assist the coroner, he’d sent over dental records that had been in Gracie’s FBI file. Good thing that, because dental records were normally purged seven years after a patient’s last visit or seven years after a patient turned eighteen.

The attachment opened. Holding his breath, he scrolled to the ID section and read the name.

Trina Davis. Not Grace McGarry.

He read the name over and over, expecting to feel…what? Relief? He did, kind of, and kind of not. Then what he felt was guilt. Guilt over wishing in some tiny pocket of his heart it was Gracie in that grave, so this could finally be over. Now all he felt was nothing. Numbness.

Now the only people who could help him were the Wilsons. They still refused to cooperate with the AUSA on the case, especially when it came to questions about his sister. Initially, he’d hoped they could squeeze it out of them as part of a plea bargain, but the AUSA hadn’t sounded optimistic.

He continued reading.

According to the coroner, Trina Davis had given birth. They hadn’t found an infant’s remains in the cemetery. The coroner had matched Trina to records of a teenager reported missing much longer than Gracie had been gone.

Evan opened the other attachment, the original police report on Trina Davis, including her photo. What the—?

It wasn’t possible. He’d met the Wilson’s daughter a couple of times over the years. Trina Davis looked eerily similar to Jenny Wilson. So much so that it wasn’t possible they weren’t related.

He sat back. Could the Wilsons have killed Trina after she’d given birth, then taken the girl’s daughter in as their own child? That would have happened right before his parents had met the Wilsons. Maybe Trina had wanted to leave the camp. Noah said no one actually left the camp. They wound up in the cemetery.

“Oh, Jesus.” Gracie used to babysit Jenny, giving the Wilsons an opportunity to speak with her privately, learn about her issues at home.

And tell Frank Manello she was camp material.

Evan shoved a hand through his hair. This was a whole other can of worms the Wilsons would never admit to. It would only add to the lengthy list of criminal charges they were facing. Poor Jenny. She was twenty-four now. Would ruining yet another life serve any purpose?

A knock sounded on his open door. “Yo,” Brett said as he and Deck came in.

“Any news?” Deck asked.

Evan blew out a heavy breath, still uncertain whether it was one of relief or disappointment. “It’s not her.”

“Okay,” Brett said, sitting down in a chair. “So what’s next?”

Good question. What was next?

For the first time in his career, he didn’t know where he went from here. Then in the time it took for his heart to beat once, he knew. “I’m putting in for a transfer.”

“What?” Deck pushed from the doorway and plunked down in another chair.