“The police were right there. You could’ve told them what you saw.” Although questions flooded Jessie’s head, one weighed heavier on her mind. “What happened to the boy?”
It took Mrs. Tanner a long time to answer. She sobbed and looked at Chief Cook, who looked miserable with sympathy for her. Cook knew something about what she was about to say. That was why he’d bluffed her into talking.
“That boy is grown up now. His name is Ethan and he lives in Alaska. He’s got a good job, and he’s happy.” Sophia Tanner’s eyes watered again. “I never told him what happened. I just couldn’t.”
“Why? He had a right to know.”
“That boy had a right to a normal life.” The woman raised her voice and glared with a newfound fire in her eyes.
When Jessie glanced at Chief Cook with a puzzled look on her face, he obliged her with an answer.
“Ethan Tanner. He’s her son,” he said.
Jessie collapsed back on her haunches and pulled her hand from Sophia Tanner’s. And without thinking, she stood and looked at every photo the woman had displayed in her living room—seeing her brother’s face for the first time.
In one, he had a white communion suit on. In another, he had cap and gown. Every photo told the story of his life as he grew up. He looked happy, and healthy, and whole. Jessie grabbed the most recent photo and held it in her hands. Her tears splashed onto the glass as she memorized his face and traced a finger down his cheek. He did look happy, and normal, and he was everything a little brother should be in a perfect world.
She clutched the framed photo to her chest and shut her eyes, feeling the sting of tears. If Sophia Tanner had gone to the police right away, Jessie might not have become one of Millstone’s victims. The police could’ve followed his trail sooner, but that would have meant Ethan would have grown up in the foster-care system like she had. And he would’ve suffered through years of therapy like she did, trying to erase the nightmare of witnessing a brutal murder. Sophia Tanner had done the wrong thing, but Ethan looked happy and normal—and loved.
Deep regrets found a dark corner in Jessie’s heart and made the tears come faster, but she had a hard time blaming someone who had raised her brother as if he were her own.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I wish I could have found you, too.” Mrs. Tanner’s voice broke through Jessie’s profound sense of grief.
“I couldn’t have children of my own. My husband had left me for someone who could. I felt like such a failure as a woman, but that day I had a little boy in my arms. A beautiful little boy. And it felt so good to hold him and smell his hair and feel his warm skin as he slept. I couldn’t give him up. I just couldn’t.”
“I knew Ethan wasn’t your son, Sophia,” Chief Cook said. “But you told everyone that a sister you had out of state had died and left him with you. Guess that was a lie.”
“I made up a story about having to leave town quickly. One of my sisters had been in a car accident. I told everyone that I stayed to get her affairs in order. So when I came back with Ethan, no one questioned that. And when I adopted him, no one questioned that either.”
Jessie kept her back to the woman, holding on to the photo of Ethan as Mrs. Tanner told the rest of her story. When the woman was done, Jessie turned to face her.
“I’d like his address.”
This time Sophia stood and shook her head.
“No. That’s not a good idea. I don’t want him to know who you are.”
“What?” Jessie wiped the tears off her face, glaring at the woman who had stolen her family. “He’s my brother. I have a right to see him.”
“You have to understand. It took years for his nightmares to stop. He’d cry himself to sleep and didn’t know why, but he was so little, I figured he’d forget. And eventually he did.”
“Trust me, he didn’t forget,” Jessie argued. “You can’t forget something like that. When I went into that house, I knew I’d been there before because I remembered. Flashes hit me, and I knew I’d been there. You don’t forget.”
“But don’t you see, you wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t stepped foot into that house again. All that nasty business can become so . . . fresh, like an open sore that won’t heal. I’m asking you . . . no, I’m begging you. Forget you ever had a brother. I’ve been a good mother to him. I’m all the family he needs. He needs to forget more than he needs a sister like . . . you.”
Her words hung between them like a toxic cloud. By Sophia Tanner’s admission and a 95 percent DNA match, Jessie had a brother. She had finally found her family, but if she showed up on his doorstep, she could ruin his life. That was what it came down to.
Making any attempt to see Ethan Tanner would be a purely self-serving act. Sophia was right. Ethan didn’t need to find out he’d witnessed a murder and dredge up the nightmares she knew were only lying beneath the surface.
And he sure didn’t need a sister as messed up as she was.
Jessie left Sophia Tanner’s house feeling lower and in more emotional turmoil than when she’d walked in. And Chief Cook kept quiet, sensing her frustration. The only concession Mrs. Tanner made was letting Jessie keep the photo of Ethan. She carried it in her hands, held tight to her chest.
“If you want to talk to that boy, you let me know. He’s a grown man, old enough to make up his mind if he wants to see his own sister. Just say the word.”
Jessie hadn’t thought of Ethan’s being old enough, but Mrs. Tanner had made a good point. If Jessie cared what happened to her brother, making the decision to see him would take a lot more thought—and a damned good reason.
“Thanks, Tobias. I really appreciate your offer. And what you did in there, I’m grateful for that, too.” She sighed and stared up at the night sky. “But if I need to track down my brother, I can do that on my own. That’s what I do for a living, remember?”
“You promised to let me know who killed Angela, but I have a pretty good idea.”
“Yeah, thought you would.” Jessie forced a smile and turned toward him when she got to her car. “When Sophia talked about a man coming to see Angela, I figured you’d do the math. My friend Sam Cooper told me that she dug through the case. And in the updated records, they’d found that Millstone had a sister. And her first name was Angela.”
“Well, I’ll be.”
“They found that out sometime after the case went national, but it never made headline news. Danny Ray stole every bit of limelight the media had. His atrocities were more important than any convoluted family tree with no follow-up interviews when she couldn’t be found. Angela had run from her family, but she didn’t get away, apparently.”
“But if you weren’t related to him, how did you and your brother wind up in his car?”
“Sam has a lead on something that happened in Detroit a few days before Angela was murdered, but I don’t have my hopes up. She said that when a vagrant woman was arrested for drug possession, she made a claim that someone took her kids. CPD thought she was blowing smoke to distract from her possession charge, but she described the kids. And what she said matched our descriptions, but nothing ever came of it. She never pressed charges, which says it all.”
“And since I never got a missing-persons hit on Ethan’s DNA through NCIC, I doubt you’ll find anything now,” Cook said. “But you don’t remember anything about where you came from? I can see Ethan not remembering, but you were older.”
“No. The only way I survived Millstone was to zone out. It took me years to remember things. And I get flashes from time to time, nightmares mostly.”