“Devin Chambers was killed by Stan Fields,” Tracy said calmly. “He admitted it to me. That was my case. That was my investigation.”
“And Chen?”
“He killed her also. That was Portland’s case.”
“So what about Strickland? You just let her walk?”
“Well, Captain, as you advised me early and often, that’s a missing persons case, and that’s out of my jurisdiction. That’s Pierce County’s problem.”
EPILOGUE
September
The morning weather dawned iffy, which was not uncommon in the Pacific Northwest, especially near Puget Sound. On a woman’s wedding day, however, it was one more thing to cause worry. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, Tracy knew you did not plan an outdoor wedding before the Fourth of July. She knew that until that magic date the weather remained too unpredictable. You risked your guests standing in a sudden rain. She’d thought they’d be safe mid-September, but when she awoke, alone—Dan had spent the week at the farm in Redmond, old-fashioned about not wanting to see the bride before the wedding—and looked out the sliding-glass doors of her bedroom, she saw an overcast and drizzly sky.
She fretted for about an hour, then decided to adopt what had been her father’s mantra when she and Sarah traveled with him to compete in single-action shooting competitions all over the Northwest. “You control what you can control. You give the rest to God.”
By noon, the gray haze had burned off, and the temperatures had topped out at a comfortable seventy-eight degrees.
Tracy had spent the day a bit of an emotional wreck, thinking about how much her father would have loved to have walked his daughters down the aisle on their wedding days, about how much Sarah would have loved to have been her maid of honor, and how her mother would have fussed over her dress and her hair.
Tracy wore a white tea-length bridal gown with lace and an asymmetrical hem. Tucked inside her gown, near her heart, was one of her favorite pictures, a family portrait taken at one of her parents’ renowned Christmas Eve parties. They would all be with her today, in spirit, if not in body.
Her hair had been professionally styled, pulled back and tied with white lace. She didn’t care if it accentuated her crow’s-feet. She wasn’t twenty-three anymore, and she wasn’t trying to be either. She was happy with her age, and for the first time in a long time, she was happy with her life.
“You ready to do this?” Kins said. He’d worn his blue pin-striped suit that he normally reserved for trial appearances.
“Ready to do this?” she said. “We’re not running out of the tunnel for a game.”
He laughed.
They stood at the end of a white runner leading to a white awning just beneath the Alki Point Lighthouse. Her castle. Beneath that white awning waited a justice of the peace and, next to him, Dan, as much a prince as any man she’d ever met. At his side sat Rex and Sherlock, wearing white bow ties, her two knights—not always chivalrous, but always there. Forty guests had risen from their white lawn chairs and turned to face her and Kins. The invitation had said to dress casually, in anticipation of warm weather, but Del and Faz, creatures of habit, wore suits and ties anyway.
In addition to her family, Tracy had thought of Andrea Strickland that morning. She wondered where the young woman had gone, and how she was doing. She wondered if she’d had her baby yet, and if so, whether it was a boy or a girl. She wondered if Andrea saw that child as a new beginning, a new life. A chance to start over.
The media frenzy had been intense in the days after the standoff at the cabin, rife with speculation, innuendo, and rumors. When the pack of reporters finally determined the location of Andrea Strickland’s hideaway in the mountains, they descended upon Seven Pines, but found the tiny cabin just across the wooden bridge deserted, though filled with hundreds and hundreds of books. One of the reporters filed a story noting that a book rested on the coffee table, fanned open, as if the person who’d set it down intended to someday return and continue reading. The book was The Diary of Anne Frank.
“The reader,” the reporter wrote, “left the book open to a page with a single sentence underlined.”
In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.
Tracy wondered if Andrea Strickland had meant it as a message to her.
She looked at Kins and smiled. “I’m ready.”
Kins cued the violinist and cellist. A moment later, the man and woman began to play. Tracy walked forward, her arm wrapped through Kins’s, holding a bouquet of roses.
“You look beautiful,” Kins said.
Tracy smiled. “I feel beautiful,” she said.
Today would be one of the good days, one of the days to remember and, she hoped, her own new start to a new life.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So, one of the hot topics at writers’ conferences is often whether you outline your novel or whether you’re a “pantser.” I’d never heard the latter term, short for “seat of the pants.” I’m not really an outliner or a “pantser,” though I’m definitely more of an organic writer. I take an idea, play with it, and explore where it goes. Sometimes the book unfolds for me, as was the case with Her Final Breath and In the Clearing. In a weird way, the chapters almost write themselves. I just try to keep up. It’s not that simple, but I think you get my point.
Other times, however, it’s a struggle, as was the case with My Sister’s Grave, and with this novel. Usually, I get myself in trouble because I think I have a set idea—in this case, a book that takes place on Mount Rainier. I’d traveled to Rainier with my family and thought it would be a cool place to set a story. Problem was, each time I spoke with an expert in this area, they would ask, “Why does your homicide detective go up the mountain?” I never did have a good answer for that. I suppose there could be a reason, but after several months of interviews and thinking, without success, I decided instead to take a different path. That’s not to diminish their help or expertise. Indeed, they each helped me to map out a course on the mountain and explain how someone could climb it and disappear. They also pointed out that what so many people take for granted—getting to the summit—is anything but a given, and at times can turn deadly.
So, my thanks to Wes Giesbrecht for his patient guidance, to Dr. Dave Bishop, who shared with me the time he spent a week hunkered down in a storm on the mountain, fighting to stay alive. Thanks to Sunny Remington, who powered up the Liberty Ridge route in two days, showing me that it could be done—wow! Thanks to Fred Newman, who provided wonderful details. Thank you for all your time and expertise on the mammoth mountain that stands guard over the Pacific Northwest and beckons so many to climb its slopes, including my wife, father-in-law, and my brothers Bill and Tom. I won’t be one of them. God didn’t give me the body or the blood to climb in altitudes, so I’ll stay at the bottom and watch and admire from afar.
Turns out, disappearing is as difficult as climbing Rainier. With all the social media, going off the grid is tough, and people like skip tracers, private investigators, and nefarious individuals have any number of ways to track a person. I read several books on the subject, and I also want to thank private investigator Gina Brent for her insight, and Chief DJ Nesel, Maple Valley Police Department, who, in another life, used to track individuals and stolen money.
Thank you to Detective Jennifer Southworth, Seattle Police Department, Violent Crimes Section, and to Scott Tompkins, King County Sheriff’s Office, Major Crimes Unit. Scott began my journey one afternoon when he asked if I ever thought of starting a book with a body found in a crab pot. That’s all it took. I was hooked. We sat down and I said, “Walk me through it.” They both did just that. Jurisdiction was a big issue in this novel, and Jennifer and Scott patiently guided me through it. I hope I got it right. All characters in the book are fictional, and where I took any liberties, I did so on my own. Any mistakes or errors are also mine and mine alone. I’m indebted to them for their time and expertise.
Thanks to Ms. M
eg Ruley and her team at the Jane Rotrosen Agency, foremost among them, Rebecca Scherer. Meg and I have been together now for just about fifteen years and she has managed my career flawlessly. Yes, there is a business relationship, but you’d never know it when we get together. We talk about families and kids and just about everything truly important. She’s helped to keep me grounded, and this past year, in particular, I’ve needed that bit of perspective. Thanks, Meg. Rebecca is a guru at numbers and computers. At any time she can provide an answer to just about any question I ask. Where she gets all that knowledge is beyond me, but I’m grateful to have her on my team. Thanks also to Danielle Sickles and Julianne Tinari, International Rights Director and Contracts Manager, respectively. They get my books overseas and translated so they can be read by so many. And thanks to Jane Rotrosen, who greeted me fifteen years ago with open arms, a big smile, and said, “We’re going to sell a lot of books together, kid.” They’ve all believed in me, stood by me, and worked tirelessly to make it happen. A truly great team.
Thanks to Thomas & Mercer. This is book four in the Tracy Crosswhite series and my fifth novel with the team. I still feel like a newbie. They treat each project like it’s my very first novel, and always provide me with tremendous respect and kindness. I bounce ideas off them for upcoming novels, work with them when I’m plotting, and seek their advice on promotion. They always have time for my calls, to meet, and to talk. As of this writing, we’ve hit number one in five countries, with more still to come. Can’t beat that.
Special thanks to Charlotte Herscher, developmental editor. This is book five together and she has made me an infinitely better writer. At times I can hear Charlotte in my head saying, “More character development,” and I try my best to heed that call because her advice is spot-on. Thanks to Scott Calamar, copyeditor. When you recognize a weakness it is a wonderful thing—because then you can ask for help. Grammar and punctuation were never my strengths, and it’s nice to know I have the best looking out for me.
Thanks to Sarah Shaw, the author-relations perfectionist who always has a gift for our accolades, the team dinners, and so much more. My writing wall is getting awfully full with framed book covers. Thanks to Sean Baker, head of production, and to Jessica Tribble, production manager. I love the covers and titles of each of my books, and I have them to thank for a superb job. Thanks to Justin O’Kelly, the head of PR, and to Dennelle Catlett, Thomas & Mercer’s PR manager, for all their work promoting me and my novels. Thanks to editor Jacque Ben-Zekry, who is always a joy to be around. Thanks to publisher Mikyla Bruder, associate publisher Hai-Yen Mura, and Jeff Belle, vice president of Amazon Publishing.
Special thanks to Thomas & Mercer’s editorial director, Gracie Doyle. Gracie does so many things well, I’m not sure where to start. Thanks for your direction on the story. Thanks for your editorial suggestions. Thanks for your friendship. I’m truly glad to have you leading my team.
Thanks to Tami Taylor, who runs my website, creates my newsletters, and creates some of my foreign-language book covers. I ask Tami for help and she gets things done quickly and efficiently. Thanks to Pam Binder and the Pacific Northwest Writers Association for their support of my work. Thanks to Seattle 7 Writers, a nonprofit collective of Pacific Northwest authors who foster and support the written word. I’m proud to be a member of both organizations. Thanks to Jennifer McCord, a good friend and publisher who many years ago got me on the right path.
One of the cool things I get to do is sell characters to raise money for school auctions. In this instance, I sold two characters to raise money for my daughter’s school. Really, however, the thanks go to those with the checkbook. Special thanks to Tim and Brenda Berg. We met through basketball and became fast friends. They are both a kick, and when they started bidding I was blown away. Brenda, I didn’t get you the profession you sought in my novel, but I hope I did you justice! Thanks also to Ying Li and to Chong Zhu, who purchased a character for their son, Jonathan, an aspiring writer. I hope one day to be reading his books.
Thanks to all of you, the readers, for finding my novels and for your incredible support of my work. Thanks for posting your reviews and for e-mailing me to let me know you’ve enjoyed my novels—always a writer’s highlight.
Thanks to my mom, who had a rough 2016, but is back and better than ever; to my son, a sophomore in college at the time of this publication; and to my daughter, already a junior in high school. Life is great when I spend it with you. Thanks to my wife, Cristina, who listens patiently when I lament how I’ll never get a book finished or write another page, then celebrates with me when I leave my computer and say, “I’m done!”
Ah, the life of a writer’s spouse.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Catherine Dugoni
Robert Dugoni is the Amazon #1 and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of the Tracy Crosswhite series, including In the Clearing, Her Final Breath, and My Sister’s Grave. He’s been a finalist for the 2015 Harper Lee Prize for Legal Fiction, a finalist for the International Thriller Award, and winner of the Nancy Pearl Book Award for Fiction. He is also the author of the New York Times bestselling David Sloane series, including The Jury Master, Wrongful Death, Bodily Harm, Murder One, and The Conviction. Murder One was also a finalist for the Harper Lee Prize. In addition to the stand-alone novel Damage Control, Dugoni penned the nonfiction exposé The Cyanide Canary, which was a Washington Post Best Book of the Year selection. His books have been likened to Scott Turow and Nelson DeMille, and he has been hailed as “the undisputed king of the legal thriller” by the Providence Journal.
Visit his website at www.robertdugoni.com and follow him on Twitter @robertdugoni and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/AuthorRobertDugoni.
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