Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗛e leaned over the table, glazing his eyes over all of the evidence Rueben and Rayne collected on their solo excursion to her childhood home. When they notified him how they came up with the idea to check the place out, he was surprised to find out it wasn't directly theirs.
It had been a while since then; it was now nearing mid-afternoon. The three of them sat or stood around a metal table in interrogation room three for complete alone time. He wanted to make sure that the facts and evidence of this case stayed between them and members of his team that only he wanted to be involved in this; that mainly included Asher and Auden.
The door to the room opened with a heavy thud; he turned his head to see Moore standing in the doorway holding up a manilla envelope. As he pushed off the table with his hands, he hoped to god that it contained the results they'd sent with a rush order to forensics.
"Well?" Rueben questioned behind him; he was sitting on the corner of the table.
"You were right," Asher answered, entering, and placing the file down, "The prints from Nadine's journal match those of the ones found at both the Holden boy's home and Elle's murder. Without a doubt, this Enzo fellow is our guy."
"And the other part?" Jonah piped in.
Along with the prints from both crime scenes, they had also taken Rayne's DNA to test it alongside the small amount of trace evidence they found on the journals and her mother's belongings. He was hoping that they weren't related and her mind could ease up – because they all know she's been through too much – but that wish was one too hard to follow through on.
"They match," he said solemnly, "Enzo is Rayne's biological sibling."
Jonah slid his eyes in her direction; she was sitting in a metal chair. One of her legs was bent, allowing her foot to rest on the flat part – she used her knee to lean her elbow on. Some part of him thought that he would see a reaction on her face. Maybe even a micro one.
But there was nothing there.
Not a raised eyebrow. Not a curled lip.
She just silently sat, facing the wall, bouncing her free leg up and down. She had a finger between her teeth, biting on the hard parts of her nail beds, but other than that, she was like a statue. He was positive that not even a look of acknowledgment crossed her eyes.
"Fuck," Rueben interrupted the silence, "How did things get so complicated?"
"We have no idea," Jonah replied, crossing his arms, "—this is all new to us, too."
"What about the Clarke guy?" he quizzed, changing the topic, "There has to be something there, right? I mean, how hard could it be to pinpoint this doctor?"
"Harder than we could have imagined," Asher spoke for him, "The surname 'Clarke' is very common in the United States, and even more so in Los Angeles. There are at least fifty of them in our county alone, making the suspect pool much larger than we wanted."
