A Familiar Sight by Labuskes Brianna

Author:Labuskes, Brianna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2021-08-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

GRETCHEN

Now—

“Tess Murphy,” Gretchen said as they walked into Shaughnessy’s office. There was someone standing at Shaughnessy’s desk, a folder in his hand, clearly cut off midsentence by their entrance. But the kid scampered off like a good boy after one pointed look from Gretchen.

“Who, what, now?” Shaughnessy shot back.

“Tess. Murphy,” Gretchen repeated with exaggerated emphasis.

“Sweetheart, I’ve worked in Boston for decades,” Shaughnessy said, gesturing for both her and Marconi to sit. “If you think the name Tess Murphy means anything to me, I have a few Irish neighborhoods to introduce you to.”

“Fair,” Marconi muttered, and shrugged when Gretchen glared.

“You bleeding hearts act like everyone you come in contact with is the most worthwhile person you’ve ever met, and you don’t remember a seventeen-year-old girl who turned into a cold case?” Gretchen asked, going deliberately for shame and guilt. They were both solid manipulation tactics.

But Shaughnessy was onto her, and by this point Gretchen guessed Marconi was, too. That pleased her for reasons she would look into later but suspected had something to do with the fact that her closest friend had just died, and that took the number of people who understood her down to a tragically low number.

“Dismount from your high horse, if you please,” Shaughnessy said, and Gretchen laughed. When he waved a hand, she turned over the file.

She watched his face closely, but he gave little away as he scanned the picture and details, his fingers tracing over and over the place on his own face where a mustache would live if he had one.

After a few minutes, he tossed the folder onto the desk between them. “I gotta be honest, the thing I remember most about this case is that the aunt calls in every once in a while.”

“There was nothing that screamed foul play?” Gretchen asked. “Nothing that made you think it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill runaway?”

“Nope.” Shaughnessy sat back, crossing his hands over his belly. “These cases are a dime a dozen. Families want to believe their kid couldn’t be a runaway, so you gotta go through the motions. But there was never any evidence she was anything other than a troubled kid who wanted to get out.”

Even Marconi was nodding along.

“No inkling that this was murder, then?” Gretchen clarified.

“Eh.” Shaughnessy lifted a shoulder. “No, not that I remember. The aunt was convinced the boyfriend had killed her. But we never found a body. Teenage boys? Not exactly known for being tidy.”

Gretchen guessed that in his quick scan, Shaughnessy had missed a key name. “What if I told you that very boyfriend was Reed Kent?”

Shaughnessy sat up so suddenly his chair yowled in protest. He leaned on his desk, his eyes intense. “He’s been connected to two different murders?”

Once a coincidence . . .

Marconi piped up. “Over the span of two decades.”

“How many civilians have even encountered one?” Gretchen said, and Shaughnessy nodded.

“True,” Marconi conceded. “So, what are we thinking? That Reed Kent killed his high school sweetheart and then killed his wife?”

Shaughnessy’s body lurched forward.

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