59. Chapter 59
Cate
Present
The knock came just before five.
I was already standing when it sounded. I didn’t remember crossing the room, only that my hand was on the doorknob before I felt ready.
The light outside had shifted, longer shadows stretching across the porch. Seth stood there, shoulders squared, jaw set in that quiet way he got when he’d already decided something mattered.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Not what’s wrong.
Not are you okay.
Are you sure…
I nodded and he stepped inside.
The house felt different with him in it. Less controlled. Less curated. Like the air had shifted slightly off-balance.
We didn’t sit right away.
I stayed near the doorway. He waited, watching me carefully, like he was giving me one last chance to change my mind.
“I don’t want details,” I said finally. My voice was steady, even if my hands weren’t. “Not yet.”
He gave a small nod.
“But I need to know how much I’ve been kept in the dark.”
Seth exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” he said.
We moved to the living room, taking opposite ends of the couch at first. The distance felt intentional. Protective.
I folded my hands together to stop them from shaking.
“They never told me how,” I said. “How they know. What happened to him…”
Seth’s gaze didn’t leave mine.
“That wasn’t accidental,” I added softly. “Was it?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and in the silence, I felt something inside me sharpen.
“No,” he said finally. “It wasn’t.”
The truth felt like a punch in the gut.
“Then tell me where it starts,” I finally managed.
Seth inhaled once.
“It all started ten years ago,” he said quietly. “With a body that wasn’t supposed to matter.”
My stomach tightened.
“The first one… The one they found before your wedding. That wasn’t John.”
I nodded faintly.
“You knew that,” he added quickly. “You said it the second you saw the body. Marshal agreed with you at the time.”
I frowned. “Then why are we here?”
Seth exhaled.
“Because the man they found, the one who was later identified, that’s where things stopped making sense.”
I waited.
“He had John’s things,” Seth continued. “His wallet. His ID. Personal effects that should’ve been gone years ago.”
“Right, which doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“No,” Seth agreed. “It doesn’t. That’s why Marshal started digging.”
I leaned forward slightly, elbows on my knees, my mind working to piece things together.
“Digging where?”
“Ten years back,” he said. “To a case that was closed shortly after John disappeared.”
I stared at him. “Wait… what?”
My pulse picked up, slow but insistent.
“Apparently, there was a body found back then,” Seth said. “Unrecognizable. Dental records were useless, his face was destroyed. The only thing tying that body to an identity was what they found in his pocket.”
I swallowed. “An ID.”
“Yes.”
The room felt very still.
“That ID belonged to someone else,” Seth continued. “A transient. Someone with no next of kin. No one around to ask questions.”
My hands curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.
“They cremated him,” Seth said, “Then quietly closed the file.”
I breathed in. Out.
“Then why… now?” I asked.
“Because the man who helped make that happen didn’t disappear,” Seth said. “He lived with it.”
My eyes snapped to his.
“The man who had John’s ID when he died?” I asked.
Seth nodded once. “Marshal thinks he kept it. On purpose.”
“Why?”
“Guilt,” Seth said. “Or leverage. Or a conscience that finally cracked.”
My throat burned.
“He died recently,” Seth added. “Violently. And when they found John’s things on him, Marshal realized it couldn’t be a coincidence. It was a thread.”
I shook my head slowly. “But how do they know it was John? The body was cremated.”
Seth hesitated, then, “Marshal pulled everything that still existed. Photos. Intake notes. Coroner records. Anything the old file hadn’t bothered to destroy.”
I went very still.
“He asked me to look,” Seth said. “Not as family, but as someone who might know.”
My voice came out barely above a whisper. “And?”
Seth met my eyes.
“There was a birthmark,” he said. “Just below his collarbone on the left side. He used to joke that it looked like a continent.”
Africa.
I pressed my fingers into my thigh, grounding myself as the memory flashed before me in vivid color, John shirtless in the mirror, laughing, pointing at it.
No one else would’ve known.
“I told Marshal,” Seth said softly. “I had no doubt that that was John.”
The silence stretched between us, the air heavy with the weight of it all.
“I didn’t want to tell you like this,” Seth added. “I didn’t want to say any of it until you asked.”
I swallowed hard. “Why?”
“Because once I said it out loud,” he said, “you don’t get to unhear it.”
I nodded.
“Marshal believes John was killed the week he disappeared,” Seth continued. “And it wasn’t an accident.”
My stomach clenched.
“And he believes it was personal,” Seth said. “That level of violence doesn’t come from strangers.”
Someone close.
The phrase echoed, even heavier now.
“What did he say about… suspects?” I asked carefully.
Seth studied me for a long moment, then chose his words carefully.
“He said whoever did this knew John. Had access. And had help cleaning it up.”
Help.
Power.
Protection.
“I don’t want you alone with this,” Seth said. “And I don’t want you managed through it either.”
My breath caught.
“I’ve noticed,” he added gently. “How much has been decided for you lately.”
I looked down at my hands.
“He thinks I can’t handle it,” I said.
“I think he’s afraid of what you’ll ask,” Seth replied.
I pushed his words away, I couldn’t think about that, not right now.
I lifted my head. “Why didn’t you tell me how he died?”
“Because you haven’t asked yet,” he said. “And because when you do, I want it to be on your terms. Not when someone else decides you’re ready.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, but they didn’t fall.
Not yet.
I nodded once. “Okay.”
Seth reached across the space between us and covered my hand with his.
“When you want the rest,” he said, “I’ll tell you. All of it.”
I squeezed his fingers back, grateful.
I wasn’t weak or broken. I just needed time to… gather myself.
Because now I knew something important.
John didn’t vanish, and he didn’t leave me.
Someone took him.