Chapter 10
Nathan
A call comes in while I’m sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at my hands like they might tell me something.
It takes me a second to realize who’s calling.
Seattle Police Department.
They don’t call much. Not anymore. Not since it became clear they weren’t going to be the ones to fix this.
I stopped believing in them. I just stopped waiting. That’s why I hired someone else.
But at this point, I’ll take anything I can get.
“Do we have something?” I ask the second I answer.
“We might,” Detective Barnett says. And because I’ve spoken to him enough now, because I’ve learned the difference between his voices, I know that means he’s trying not to let himself believe it yet.
“Your PI sent us a lead… a man we’ve been quietly tracking for a bit.
I didn’t want to say anything until we could confirm a few things. ”
I don’t move.
He continues, “And I got confirmation this morning that this man was there that day. He was working. On-site.”
Something in me locks up.
“He’s got a history,” Barnett says. “Violence. Assault. Abuse. The kind of pattern you don’t like seeing attached to anyone who’s anywhere near… this.”
“So what happens now?” I ask.
“We’re bringing him in for a lineup. I want you here for it.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
I close my eyes. “If I recognize him?”
“Then we’re not guessing anymore.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then we keep going. Like we have been.”
There’s a pause. “I’ll be there,” I say.
The station feels the same as it always does. Too clean. Too controlled. Like everything bad that’s ever happened here has been scrubbed down and filed away.
Barnett meets me inside. He doesn’t ask how I am. I don’t offer. We’ve both learned some questions don’t need answers.
“I’ve got everything set up,” he says as we walk.
He leads me into a room with a table, three chairs, and a large pane of glass that takes up most of one wall.
“Just take your time,” he says. “There’s no rush.”
That’s a lie. But I understand why he says it.
A minute later, five men step into place on the other side of the glass.
They stand in a line with numbers clipped to their shirts.
I study them carefully. Not the way you look at people. The way you look at suspects. At possibilities.
One looks irritated. One looks nervous. One looks bored. One looks tired. One looks… normal.
None of them feels familiar.
That doesn’t stop my heart from pounding.
I go down the line once.
Then again.
A part of me wants one of them to be the one.
Because at least then the nightmare would have edges. A shape. A beginning and an end.
“Do you recognize anyone?” Barnett asks.
The words won’t come.
I want them to.
But I can’t force something that isn’t there.
“No,” I say finally. “I don’t recognize any of them.”
The words feel heavy.
Barnett ends the lineup.
The men are led away.
He takes me into another office.
Barnett opens a file and slides a photo across the table.
It’s one of the men from the lineup.
“This is the one we’ve been looking at,” he says. “He’s got a history of violence. Assault. Domestic abuse. Escalation.”
“And he was there,” I say.
“Yes,” he replies. “We confirmed it. He was working on-site that day.”
That day.
The words sit in my chest like something cold.
“We don’t have enough yet,” Barnett adds, “but we’re in the process of trying to get a warrant to search his residence.”
I stare at the photo.
This man.
This possibility.
“You think it could be him,” I say.
“We think he’s the closest thing we’ve had to a real direction in a long time,” Barnett says carefully.
He pauses.
“But I need you to understand something too.”
My jaw hardens.
“At this stage… recoveries are rare.”
The words hang.
“Three years changes the landscape. We don’t stop working it. But the odds shift.”
Silence.
Then, quieter:
“I’ve seen what this does to people.”
Another beat.
“She wouldn’t want you frozen in this moment.”
The room sits heavy.
“We’ll call you as soon as we know more,” Barnett says.
I nod.
Outside, the city looks the same as it always does.
People walking. Cars moving. Someone laughing into their phone.
I stand there for a moment, trying to decide whether I want them to find something or not.
Because if they do…
Then it’s real.
All of it.
Hope is back.
And it feels like something I shouldn’t trust.