What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(101)

Tough, strong willed, and resilient.

That cat, it appeared, had a few more lives.

Tracy and Del were, to an extent, bulletproof by going to the Times and making the story public. Any discipline would be considered retaliatory and reflect badly on Chief Weber. Tracy wasn’t worried about physical harm for the same reason.

Tracy focused instead on spending quality time with Daniella, taking her to places like the zoo, the Pacific Science Center, parks, and generally trying to accept the things she could not change. Faz, the big goombah, was right again.

It must have killed Del to admit it.

As she pushed Daniella toward the grizzly bear exhibit, the two bears lumbered around in their environment. Her cell phone rang.

Anita Childress.

After greetings, Childress said, “I just wanted you to know that my last day is next Friday. I’m moving to Escondido to be near my mother. I’m taking your advice and putting family first.”

Tracy smiled. “Do you know what you’ll do?”

“Nothing for a while. I’m going to try my hand at writing a memoir.”

“Well, you certainly have the material. How does your mother feel about you publishing the story?” Melissa Childs had declined all offers and invitations to talk about what happened to her.

“As long as I’m the only one asking her questions, she’s fine with it.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I decided I needed a fresh start, get away and go someplace completely new. I guess I’m still emulating my mother. And maybe you.”

“Me?” Tracy said.

“I’m hoping to find myself and, maybe, someone to share my life with. Like you did. Maybe have children. I feel like I’ve been running in place for years.”

Again, Tracy knew the feeling. She looked to Daniella, who was sitting up, watching the grizzlies. “And I’ll tell you it’s a lot more fun moving forward with people you love and who love you.”

“Have you heard whether you’re going to get your job back?”

“End of the month, I’ll be going back to Cold Cases,” Tracy said.

She’d spoken to the union attorneys, who indicated the department would back down rather than risk news stories that one of their most decorated detectives was fired for solving a twenty-four-year-old case.

“Is that what you want?”

Tracy thought of Johnny Nolasco, and of Chief Weber, who would remain her chief and could make her life difficult, but she also thought of Del and Faz and Kins, who had returned to Police Headquarters after sitting through a long trial. Each had called Tracy several times to check in and tell her they hoped she came back.

Daniella did not have any blood relatives on Tracy’s side of the family, but she’d have three of the best uncles a girl could ever wish for.

Tracy also knew she couldn’t turn her back on all those victims who had gone missing, or their families who’d gone years without closure. Most she would not find alive, not like Melissa Childs. Childs was the extraordinary case. Most would be dead, likely for many years, but again, Tracy could not control that. She could only do her job. Would it ever be enough?

Probably not.

But she could pray for serenity while she changed the things she could.

Solving cold cases was her calling, her way of accepting Sarah’s death. And that was okay. If not for what had happened to Sarah, there would have been no closure for the families of the fourteen women buried in North Seattle and Curry Canyon; as well as for Kavita Mukherjee, the Indian college student killed in a park; for Kimi Kanasket, a Native American high school student run down in a clearing in Klickitat County; or Devin Chambers, who would still be the anonymous girl in the crab pot. Anita Childress would still be searching for her mother, her life on hold, and Stephanie Cole, the runner abducted from a park trail, might still be imprisoned instead of back home with her family.

Tracy wasn’t meant to be teaching chemistry in Cedar Grove.

She was meant to be the voice for those who no longer had one. She was meant to find justice, in whatever form she could, for the families left behind.

“It is,” Tracy said, answering Anita’s question. “I’m not done yet.

I feel like I’m just hitting my stride.”





A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

I’m not quite sure of the genesis for this story. It could have been a conversation with my editor, Gracie Doyle. The issue of amnesia is both frightening and fascinating. Frightening because on February 12, 2016, I suffered a stroke due to a blood clot. The thought of losing memories terrified me, but as with most things in life, perspective eased my concern. The stroke was a stroke of luck.

It revealed a valve that didn’t close at birth, which I’ve had remedied.

It has made me appreciate the present moments I have with my wife and our children.

COVID-19 continues to be an issue, and I continue to omit it from my novels, for the most part. Readers have expressed to me that the subject is everywhere, and books have become their escape. I respect this. I know many who have been touched by COVID and the havoc it can cause. My daughter had the virus, and though asymptomatic, she appears to have some long-haul issues I hope can soon be resolved. I hope you are all as well as can be, and this pandemic has not been too painful for you or those you love. I hope that life will continue to return to normal.