“You are Serafina Galloway, aren’t you?”
I maintained eye contact with Agent Suarez, wondering how he knew who I really was.
“I know all about how you and your mother disappeared after your father attacked the U.S. Embassy in Liberia all those years ago.”
Tyler bolted up from his chair, the fury on his face visible. “Mackenzie, you don’t have to answer any more of these questions. I’ll call my lawyer immediately.”
“No,” I insisted, grabbing Tyler’s hand. When I had gotten the phone call earlier this morning asking if I’d come down to answer a few questions, he begged me to tell them no, that we’d reschedule when he could arrange for his lawyer to be there with me. But I had nothing to hide and I wanted to do everything I could to finally move on from this chapter of my life.
Looking up at him, I said, “I’ve done nothing wrong.” I faced Agent Suarez. “Yes, after my father’s alleged attack on the embassy, my mother and I disappeared. I didn’t know why. All I knew was that I left the only life I had ever known and was forced to hide for years.”
He nodded smugly, pulling another photo out of the file. “And how about these three individuals? Do you know who they are?”
He slid a photo of a happy family across the table. I stared at the old photo of my former neighbors. Emily was enclosed in Harrison’s embrace, when I still knew him as Harrison Mills and before he became Benjamin Collins. In front of them was my best friend, Damian. I traced the contours of his youthful face, wishing I could rewind the clock and go back to that time, that I could warn my father not to go to Liberia.
“Yes. They were my old neighbors. The Mills,” I said finally, shoving the photo back at him.
“And do you know what happened to Emily Mills?”
“It’s Sheperd now, I guess,” I responded. “And she was murdered a few months ago, along with her current husband. I saw it on the news.”
“So you didn’t discuss this with Mr. Montgomery? If you saw it on the news, you must have known the prime suspect in that case was one Charles Patrick Montgomery.”
Tyler slammed his fist on the table, his face red with anger. “Don’t answer that, Mackenzie. This prick has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“Tyler,” I said calmly. “I have nothing to hide. I haven’t done anything wrong, so this prick, as you so aptly called him, can ask me all the questions he wants. He’s not going to find anything, but if he wants to waste his time, so be it.” I returned my attention to Suarez. “Now, you want to know if I discussed the Sheperd’s murder with Charlie… Yes, I did. He called me the night I learned about it and I accused him of the murder.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he was innocent, just as he did with all the other murders of which he was accused. He said he was being set up.”
“And did you believe him?”
“Truthfully, I didn’t know what to believe. I remember analyzing everything in my head, thinking if the only connection between Charlie and Whitman, the supposed hitman he had hired to kill all those people, was just a web blog and visitor records from Walter Reed, the FBI should work harder at finding some concrete evidence. But when I learned a hair fiber was found, I didn’t know what to believe. I didn’t want to think he was a killer, and I’m still not quite convinced he is…or was.”
“Why?”
“Because I know Charlie,” I insisted through clenched teeth.
“Sometimes the most hardened criminals are those we never suspect, but you do have a point, Miss Galloway.”
“It’s Mrs. Burnham,” I corrected.
“I apologize,” Suarez said. “Mrs. Burnham. As you mentioned, we found a hair fiber of Charlie’s around the bodies of Emily and Lucian Sheperd back in Lafayette. We also found several prints on the door frame and windows, but we disregarded them because it was your old house.”
“Whose prints?” Tyler demanded, his patience waning even more.
“Francis Mackenzie Galloway,” the agent said, a satisfied smile on his face. “Considering that house has sat empty since he was assumed to have died in the attack on the embassy, we didn’t think much of it…until the initial forensics on Charlie’s death came back this morning.”
“And what did you find?” I asked softly.
“Well, it seems your father didn’t really die in that fire, did he? According