Chapter 41 - The Husband I Buried

Now

The next morning, I made coffee and opened my inbox before the sun was even up. A new email at the top made my heartbeat quicken. Meg must have sent it before she went to bed. It was timestamped 2.30 a.m.

I opened it quickly.

Subject: DNA Match – Case #4521 – Prelim Report

From: Megan Reynolds

My fingers trembled slightly as I opened it. This was it – the information I’d been waiting for.

DNA source: Blood sample collected from crime scene (297 Ashby Drive, Charlesville)

Result: Match identified

Database reference: DoD DNA Registry

I froze. The DoD? The army? That registry was only for soldiers – samples for identification if someone fell in battle. My stomach sank as I scrolled to the next line.

Match: Luis Tyndale

I blinked. No. That couldn’t be right. My pulse thundered in my ears as I leaned closer, rereading the line, willing the name to morph into someone else’s, anyone else’s. But it didn’t.

Luis was a match.

I scrolled further.

Sample integrity: Optimal.

Degradation: Minimal.

Collection timestamp: Recent.

My throat tightened. This wasn’t some old, archived blood. This was fresh, drawn within weeks, maybe days. Whoever’s it was, it had been collected recently.

I dialed the number Megan had left for the Dutton Street sample, my hands still trembling.

‘Meg. It’s Mackenzie Morgan.’

‘I hope you got the results,’ she said.

‘Yeah. Thanks,’ I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

‘Was there a problem?’ Megan asked.

I swiveled in my chair, lowering my voice. ‘The blood recovered . . . It’s a match for Luis Tyndale?’

A pause crackled through the line. I could hear her typing. ‘Just double-checking.’ She cleared her throat a few moments later. ‘That’s what the database spat out.’

‘He’s dead, Megan. He died in a car accident four months ago.’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’m sure there’s an explanation.’ But she didn’t sound sure of that at all. ‘Maybe it’s a mistake. They don’t happen often but they do happen. . .’

I cut her off. ‘Can you tell how old the sample is?’

‘Physically, it’s recent. Red cells intact, minimal protein decay. Drawn within the last few weeks, maybe even more recent.’

Weeks. That was consistent with when the fire happened.

The room seemed to tilt. If Luis wasn’t dead . . . then who had been in that car? Who had they buried?

‘Is there any way to find out who was in the car?’ I asked.

‘I can probably cross-check,’ Megan said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Please – don’t put anything else in writing yet. Just . . . call me.’

‘I will,’ Megan replied, hesitating. ‘Mackenzie – are you OK?’

‘I will be,’ I said, and meant it in the narrow, professional sense of the word.

Personally, I was trying to hang on.

Luis’s blood. At my client’s house.

Not degraded. Not a clerical error.

Recent.

Which meant one thing, and one thing only.

Luis really wasn’t dead.

My gaze drifted to the kitchen window. Sunday light spilled across the counter, catching dust motes in the air. Ordinary. Quiet. The kind of morning you weren’t supposed to have revelations on. If Luis was alive, then it wasn’t him in the car.

The closed casket.

The body no one had really seen.

Someone else had burned to death.

Someone else had been buried.

A knock at the door broke the silence. Who would be calling before eight on a Sunday? For a second, in my shock, I let myself believe it was Luis, coming home to me.

I found my feet and stood slowly.

The knock came again. Harder this time, impatient. Whoever it was, they weren’t leaving.

I went to the door to open it, checking through the peephole first, but they weren’t directly in view. I thought of the invitation. I was supposed to be at the Institute today. Maybe they had come to escort me there.

‘Open the door,’ a man’s voice called.

Not Luis.

Not the police either.

‘Come on, Mackenzie.’

Keith.

Relief flooded through me – I couldn’t answer Murphy and Davidson’s questions right now. I unbolted the door.

He was standing on my stoop in jeans and a jacket, coffee in one hand, something that had caught Tess’s attention in the other.

‘You didn’t answer my text,’ he said, handing me the coffee. ‘I thought you might chicken out.’ He crouched down to greet Tess. ‘Brought something for you too, girl.’

He looked up at me before giving it to her. ‘I hope that’s all right?’

I nodded and he unwrapped a large chew toy and handed it over. Tess took it immediately, tail wagging. Then Keith looked at me properly for the first time since he’d arrived and stopped smiling.

‘OK,’ he said slowly. ‘You look like someone just rewrote your entire understanding of reality.’

I stepped back to let him in. Better that he was inside, away from nosy Greg, who’d probably have a heart attack if he saw me letting another man into the house.

‘Why are you here so early?’

He grinned. ‘I had an idea.’

‘Luis is alive,’ I said, ignoring him.

‘Shit.’ He thought for a second. ‘You confirmed it?’

‘Yeah, as good as.’

‘How?’

‘They found his blood,’ I said. ‘Fresh. Not degraded. Matched through the DoD registry.’

Keith’s expression hardened. ‘Where?’

‘At my client’s house.’

Keith blinked once. Then he nodded, like he’d just had confirmation of something he’d been carrying around quietly. ‘That’d have to be a hell of a coincidence,’ he said.

‘Yeah.’ My nerves kicked in. I still didn’t understand what it meant. Why would Luis even be inside Rebecca’s house?

‘So, who was driving his car?’ asked Keith.

‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. A friend is looking into it.’

He folded one arm around the other, and I could see him recalibrating. ‘The Institute,’ he said. ‘Are we still doing that today?’

‘Yes,’ I said, more determined than ever.

He set his coffee down, suddenly all business. ‘Then that’s where we’re going.’

I hesitated for half a second. ‘One more thing,’ I said.

‘Sure.’

‘Sofia mentioned someone. A friend of Luis’s named Elena Farrell. Do you know who she is?’

He thought for a moment, his face blank. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?’

‘I think she might be the person who was at his grave . . .’ I stopped, deciding if I wanted to say more. I didn’t know for sure, but I had a theory. ‘And I think she might have sent the invitation.’

Whatever game Luis thought he was playing, he’d just made one critical miscalculation. He’d left evidence behind. And this time, I wasn’t walking toward him in the dark. I was bringing the light with me.

‘Well, we can stand around here all day wondering, or we can go find out,’ said Keith. ‘I just want to make one stop before we go to the Institute. We should leave now, before it gets too busy.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘I’ll tell you on the way.’

Tess looked at me with big puppy dog eyes. Keith saw it too.

‘Grab her leash,’ he said, ushering us to hurry up.

He looked determined to get some answers.

Maybe today would be the day.

Where are you, Luis? And what do you remember from before the accident?