“Who’s sitting next to her?”
“That’s Ken’s cousin Eric, and on her other side is Ken’s ex-wife Lisa. His first wife, Carolyn, is sitting directly behind Shannon with her husband, Steve.”
“I’m still stunned that all the exes get along,” Evan said. “What about the rest of Ken’s family?”
“That’s it,” said Rowan. “He was a single child, and his parents passed away a long time ago. Eric is the only cousin that he keeps in touch with. I think he told me one time he didn’t bother with extended family, nor they with him. His friends were always his family.”
“Who does the German shepherd belong to?” he asked, eyeing another dog behind Shannon Steward.
Rowan knew he was trying to distract her, and she appreciated it. “That’s Rees Womack’s dog. I’d say he was as close to Ken as Shannon. His dog is Gunnar.” She continued to share the names of other dogs and owners she knew—which was nearly every pair. She recounted amusing anecdotes about several dogs and the missions she’d worked with them. The tightness in her chest eased, and she no longer felt as if she were about to melt into a sea of tears.
The service started and she focused on the speakers. Thirty minutes later, her cheeks were wet from her laughing so hard. Ken’s three ex-wives had organized the service and had clearly instructed the speakers to recount their funniest experiences with Ken.
There were a lot of stories. For someone who had dedicated his life to SAR, Ken was known for his poor sense of direction and being rather clumsy. Failings he was well aware of and joked about often. Many of the speakers shared their adventures with Ken that had resulted in sprained ankles, broken bones, or getting lost.
Afterward Rowan rose to her feet, her heart light for the first time that day. The service had been cathartic. Shannon Steward made eye contact with her and grabbed Lisa’s and Carolyn’s hands, pulling them in Rowan’s direction. The three men who’d been sitting with the exes trailed behind.
Rowan was finally ready for a bit of social chat. She exchanged hugs with the women and introduced everyone to Evan.
“You’re the detective,” said Eric Steward as he shook Evan’s hand. Ken’s cousin was grim, dozens of questions in his eyes. Steve and Rees silently shook Evan’s hand. Their gazes were also suspicious and unhappy. Rowan suspected they viewed Evan as someone who hadn’t done his best because Ken’s killer was still on the loose. Until Evan found him, the men wouldn’t put their trust in him.
“Yes. I’m sorry for your loss,” said Evan.
“Ken’s case is in good hands,” Shannon said quickly with a glance at Eric. “Detective Bolton is known for getting things done. I’ve been reading up on him.”
“Me too,” added Carolyn.
The women see the men’s distrust too.
Evan raised his brows but said nothing. Eric looked away, frustration on his face. Rowan suspected he was biting his tongue, holding back dozens of questions because he knew this was not the place or time for them.
Today was for remembering the good times.
Rowan praised the women for the memorial service, and after a round of goodbye hugs, she was suddenly exhausted.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Evan told Rowan, following her up the steps out of the amphitheater. His tone had changed. “I need to talk to you, but I hate to bring up business at a memorial,” he said.
“It’s not business; it’s Ken’s murder.”
“My job isn’t nine to five,” Evan said. “I’m always working. My brain never stops.” He paused for a long moment as they followed the path back to the parking lot. “Earlier today I spent several hours reading up on your kidnapping. After that woman’s body was found yesterday, why didn’t you mention the murders of other young women that happened at the same time as your babysitter’s?”
Rowan’s steps slowed as her brain tried to process what he’d said.
“You had to see they were similar to my two current cases and the woman you discovered.”
Ice traveled up her spine. It’d never crossed her mind. “What does it matter? It can’t be related. He’s in prison.” She refused to say his name. “He’ll never be out. He’ll die in prison.”
Why am I so unsettled?
Evan touched her arm and she stopped, turning to stare at him. His eyes were patient. “The victim you found was close to the location where your babysitter was found. The other two women he killed back then were also strangled and found in similar situations. This can’t be a coincidence.”
Rowan’s mind raced. “He’s in prison,” she repeated.
“Who else knew about the location where your babysitter was found?”
“I was five,” she snapped. “You’re asking me details of a case more than two decades old? You’re the detective with access to all the old records. You figure it out.” Her heart felt as if it’d pound its way out of her chest.
“I’m working on it. Sam Durette came to me with the connection this morning, which led me to dig into the past.”
Rowan was quiet as a sense of betrayal swamped her. Sam must have made the connection during their birthday phone call. “He didn’t say anything to me about those deaths.”
Why would he keep that to himself?
“Sam cares about you,” said Evan. “I think he didn’t want to drag you into the past. He worries because you still search for your brother.” His voice was soft.
Her face flushed. She didn’t discuss her brother with anyone outside her family except Sam. And Ken. But it was clear now that Evan knew everything. Standing before him, she felt raw and exposed, all her secrets on display.
Defensiveness welled up in her. Rowan had researched Evan Bolton’s past too. His sister had gone missing nearly fifteen years before as a teenager—but had turned up recently.
“Did you ever stop searching for her?” she asked quietly, holding his gaze, deliberately not saying his sister’s name.
He looked away. “No.”
“Could you have lived with yourself if you had stopped looking?”
“No.”
“Did you think you were crazy because you hunted for someone you loved?”
His gaze returned to hers; his eyes were haunted. “Sometimes.”
That’s how his eyes looked when I first met him.
The weight of his sister’s disappearance had dogged him, and Rowan understood that burden; she’d felt the same one for decades. A bond suddenly simmered between them, crafted by their similar, devastating experiences. The swift connection was surprising and strong, making her light-headed.
There is definitely something between us.
She wanted to explore it. But not right now.
“I didn’t think about the other women who’d been murdered back then,” Rowan confessed. “I’ve put them out of my mind because to me, their tragedy was solved. I think of our sitter Carissa’s murder as being closed. Finished. No more questions. Malcolm fills my thoughts. Finding where that man buried him is the only thing from the past I think about.” Her throat suddenly tightened. “It’s too painful to think about what he did to us—or anyone else.”
“There’s a good chance those bones are more of his victims from back then,” Evan said. “The location makes me consider that.”
“And one of them could be Malcolm.” Rowan could barely speak.
Is my search almost over?
“I’m going to see Dr. Peres tomorrow afternoon,” said Evan. “She should have some preliminary results on the remains.”
Rowan searched his face. It gave no clue to his thoughts, but she could feel his concern for her. “You’ll let me know what she says?”
Evan took her hand and squeezed it. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” It’d been a long time since she felt that someone actively had her back in her search for Malcolm. Sam and Ken had always been supportive, but this felt different.
Why?
Evan felt like a partner. More than a friend. More than someone with a file on his desk.
He continued to hold her hand and her gaze.
An unfamiliar type of hope filled her heart.
20
Rowan, twenty-five years ago