“Where are your parents?”
What is with the drill session? “Dead.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone dies at some point.” I didn’t like to answer questions about them.
“Siblings?”
“What’s with all the personal questions about who is in my life? That, right there, makes me feel like you’re scoping out if I’m an easy kill or not,” I joked.
Charlie ran his hands around the back of his neck. “Stacy, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”
“Good to know.” I sighed. “I have a sister in New York, but we don’t talk.”
“Why?”
“Because when our parents died, she left me to run the diner with my Uncle Jack. She took her cut of the inheritance and moved on. I hate the diner too—despise it, actually—but I won’t leave my uncle to run it on his own. He has a large family, and if the diner closes, well, he goes down with it.”
“That’s noble of you,” he mumbled. “Why do you hate this town so much?”
I let out a little laugh as I reached for the wine and poured a little more. “When you grow up in a small town and your parents die, people look at you like you’re a lost cause. They look at you with that sad, sympathetic face. I’m not Stacy Marie, I’m that ‘poor’ girl whose parents were murdered by a guy hyped on drugs.” I paused. This topic was a no-go area. “It just gets old.” Charlie nodded a few times. “Your turn.”
“I suppose it is.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, my mother passed away when I was five. I have four brothers, and I’m the oldest. Born and raised in Phoenix. My father wanted me to take over the family business, but I didn’t want it. So I left.”
“At least you got out of that town.”
Charlie glanced down at the table. “Well, we shall see.”
Okay…I wanted to ask more questions, but I was stuck on one thing. “So, why did you come back? You were gone for a month.”
“I wanted to see you.” He looked right into my eyes. “I really like you. But…there’s something you need to know.”
Three Years Later
“Charlie,” I screamed from behind him. He reached for my hand and pulled me along. I had never been more terrified in my whole life. “I’m scared!”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, honey.” He opened the door and pushed me in the seat. “Stay low, and whatever you do, don’t leave this seat. I will come back for you.” He leaned in and kissed my lips hard. “I love you, Stacy.” He took my hand and kissed my wedding band. “Don’t move.” With that, he was gone. I was left inside an old Cadillac in a scrap metal yard. My knees banged the floor, and I folded into a tight ball, praying I would stay hidden.
The motor of the Tahoe stopped several feet away from me, and I peeked out the window and saw him as he scanned the property. He motioned for the men to go off in different directions. I was sure he could hear my thundering heartbeat from where he stood. One man got so close I held my breath and pressed myself down flat onto the floor of the car. Peeking out through a crack, I saw his shadow appear over the driver’s seat, and then his flashlight moved to the passenger side. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my tongue in fear, waiting for his shout. The light stopped and became brighter. Oh my God! I knew they’d find us—they always did! Why did we think this time was any different? I had no weapon and no hope left.
“Hey,” someone yelled, “over here!” The light moved away, and I slowly stared out the window just in time to see the man stick his gun in Charlie’s direction and pop two bullets right between my husband’s eyes.
I scrambled out of the car and ran as fast as I could. I knew it was stupid, even suicidal, but I lost all sense of reason as I dropped to the ground where a pool of blood made paths through the dirt.
“No!” I cried and held Charlie’s head to my chest. I looked up at the man and screamed, “You’re a monster! How could you do this?” I looked straight into his eyes, right before he raised his gun and stole my life away.
Present Day
FBI Agent Cooper Colin
Nashville was cooler than Southern California. I had only been here once before, when I came across their case.
I’d worked cold cases for the past nine years. There was something about solving something that others couldn’t that made it exciting. I liked to be down in the gallows of the building alone to connect the dots with little interruption.
My room was huge, with pictures of crime scenes linked with red lines to suspects and evidence. Every case started with a crime, victim, a murder…then the truth. It all came together like a game, clues scattered, witnesses with their own versions of what happed, character traits, and the million dollar question—“who did it?”
I was currently the best detective in my division. It was as if the evidence spoke to me, and I saw things most didn’t.
I’d solved twenty-one cases in my nine years with the FBI. I’d taken out more of the Marrone family than any other FBI agent on our force. I had no remorse for the killers I brought down, and when they got arrested, the looks on their faces were satisfying. I’d solved every case I’d picked up but one. Charlie and Stacy Knight.
The Knights’ murder was the first double homicide I’d come across that I knew who did it but could never prove it with the evidence. Until now…
After I rented a car, I decided to head directly to the diner. I could check into my hotel later.
The place looked exactly the same, and I took a seat at the counter and pictured Charlie waiting for his coffee. I watched as the waitress took orders one by one and imagined it was Stacy. I wondered what they spoke about and how she felt when he disappeared for that month. All I knew was Charlie returned to Phoenix, disappearing until he came back to Nashville with all of his belongings. Well, according to the witness, Stacy’s Uncle Jack.
Jack sat hunched over the cash register and rang in people’s orders. He caught my eye then gave me a nod when he placed who I was. Jack and I had spoken about six times. The poor man has been through so much. I would do anything to make his last few years here happy ones.
“Coffee?” the teenaged waitress asked with a genuine grin.
“To go, please.” I returned her friendly tone. I dropped a five on the counter and thanked her for the coffee. She beamed at the tip and gave me a little wave.
I started to leave, but paused when I saw a picture on the wall. With my cell phone in hand, I snapped a quick photo of the smiling couple and left.
Bobby Marrone was the head of the Phoenix mafia family that was now scattered all over California. They came from Italy in the early forties and had remained in the U.S. ever since. The crime rate skyrocketed after their arrival, and for some reason spread over to Nashville thirty-five years ago. Why? That was what I’d been trying to figure out. I was convinced they had a part in my case’s murder.
The Bureau gave me free rein with the Marrone family, mainly because I’d taken down more of their family than any major crime unit had in the last three years. I had to admit, I was a bit of a dirty player. I had my ways of dealing with people, and I was known for being an asshole. Which was great, because people left me alone. I had one focus in life, and it wasn’t to have friends.