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His sergeant, Aaron Brady, and Sheriff Gibson had both come to see him and give him stern instructions about doing everything by the book, including signing discharge papers.

They’d taken his statement about last night. The incident would need to be investigated, and like Jack had feared, he had to turn over his department-issued weapon and was put on desk duty, but mostly for his injury. The doctor would look at his wound again in a couple of days.

It was just a graze, people! Okay, maybe my bone got grazed too. Whatever.

Still, Henry needed all the resources he could get on this and asked that Jack continue to work the case from the conference room, which he’d been told had been transformed into a command center for the multi-homicide case.

If only he could have found a lead, something that could have helped him resolve this sooner so it wouldn’t have to come to this. He almost thought he’d done a better job as a special agent in the FBI working undercover for that dirtbag.

Then again, that wasn’t true either. He eased onto the bed.

He should tell Aunt Nadine the truth. Tell her now. He could have been killed last night. He would have died and gone to his grave without telling her. He should do it now before he lost his nerve.

Oh, God, how do I tell her?

Jack hung his head. “Aunt Nadine, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“What is it?”

He could feel her eyes on him, so he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Loving, trusting, take-in-the strays Nadine. How was this woman even the sister of a man like Jack’s father? Jack felt the first burn of tears, but he swallowed the emotions. Pushed them back. He had to talk this out.

“Oh, son, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.” She rushed over to sit on the edge of the bed next to him.

Aunt Nadine took his hand.

She couldn’t know what she was saying and would change her tune soon enough.

“You took me in and raised me. I can’t ever thank you enough.”

“There’s no need.”

“I didn’t want to be anything like my dad. An addict. He tried, I know, but he didn’t care enough about me to stay away from drugs. Even after Mom died. He was weak. I’ve always been so afraid that I’d be weak too, when it mattered most. I was so afraid I would end up being a loser just like him. That’s why I wanted to be in the FBI. I could prove myself that way. Prove myself to you, if not to myself.” Prove I was good enough for Terra. Except in the proving, I lost her.

“There’s something I should have told you a long time ago,” she said.

“No, wait, I need to get this off my chest. I’ve kept a horrible secret from you.”

“I’m listening, but nothing you tell me can be that bad.”

“I wanted to prove to you that I wasn’t like him. I wasn’t like your brother. And that I was a hero. I was so afraid I would disappoint you. Let you down. And as it turns out, I let you down, after all.”

“Jack, please calm down. Whatever it is—”

“Sarah.”

His aunt’s features twisted.

“What about Sarah?”

Sarah was Aunt Nadine’s granddaughter and Jack’s second cousin, but she’d been more like a sister to him. “I was like the older brother she was supposed to look up to. I should have protected her.”

“Jack, you weren’t around when she ran away with the love of her life. Or at least the man she thought she loved. There was nothing you could have done.”

The breath rushed from him. “I saw her. I was working undercover, and I saw her come through with a group of trafficked girls. I tried to get to her to save her, but I was too late, Aunt Nadine. Don’t you see? Sarah died on my watch. She died because of me.”

Aunt Nadine let go of his hand. She clasped her hands over her mouth.

Jack hung his head. There. He’d told her everything. And with the words, the deep ache of loss and failure racked through his body.

“I should have told you, but I didn’t know how.” And he struggled to live with himself—all his efforts seemed like they were for nothing.

Aunt Nadine composed herself. “You can’t carry that burden. You did your best. Sarah made the choice to leave with her no-good boyfriend. Her subsequent disappearance isn’t on you. It never was. I’ve come to terms with her death, and you need to do the same.”

She remained silent a few breaths, then said, “Now that we’re confessing, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too. You worked hard to be different from your dad, but you’re just like him, Jack. You’re a hero.”

What? Jack stared at his aunt. Was she losing a grip on reality again?

A nurse stepped into the room. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

He nodded but hated the interruption. The nurse set papers to be signed on the small table.

Nathan rushed into the room. “Am I late?”

Jack signed the discharge papers. “I don’t know. That depends on why you’re here.”

“Your aunt asked me to pick you guys up.”

“Why? I can drive.” Then Jack remembered his obliterated vehicle and his aunt’s injured wrist. Neither of them was driving today.

Jack stood in the conference room staring at the crime board. He needed to make quite a few corrections. Someone had tried to tie everything together.

He spotted another clue, a connection he hadn’t known about. In high school, Neva Bolz had been best friends with Jocelyn Porcella, the daughter of Princess Leia/Luke Skywalker, or Mabel and Dirk Porcella.

This association raised questions. Were the memorabilia collectors showing the world their interest in more contemporary pop culture while secretly trafficking artifacts?

Someone had written that question on the crime board. Jack guessed Nathan.

Nathan had dropped Aunt Nadine off at home. She was worried that Freckles’s lost boy might stop by the house, and she needed

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