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“You tried to be a lawyer?” he asked.

“I did a year of law school, yes. But I chose not to pursue it.”

“Because of your dad. People would compare you to him for the rest of your life if you chose the same profession.”

“Yes,” I said. “And I did leave law school in part because of my dad. But not for the reason you think. If you don’t mind, that’s personal.”

“But you could be anything else you want to be. So you’re a private investigator. And nobody will hold you to your dad’s standards then. For me, it doesn’t matter what I do. When people find out about Derrek, it always changes everything. I’ve lost jobs. Friends. Girlfriends. Even members of my own family because of that connection. I had to change my name.”

“Mr. Sidney ... you really don’t have to explain to me why you’d be reluctant to talk about your father,” I said. “And I wouldn’t have reached out to you if I had a better option.”

“Why does Geneva Bell think it would help her to know more about my dad and what happened to her that night?”

I didn’t feel comfortable telling him everything. At the same time, I knew this was a test. “I could give you the standard answer. I’m not being paid to analyze her motivations. She hired me to find out what I can for her.”

“So what’s the nonstandard answer?”

“I think she’s struggling to hold on to reality,” I said. “I think she’s reached a point in her grief process that she’s ready to remember it all.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “That’s why I called you. I don’t blame myself for Derrek’s actions. I don’t think there’s some evil gene running through my blood. I think Derrek was an anomaly. An abomination. If I’d changed my last name too, you might never have found me. Other people have too. But Sidney was also my grandfather’s name. I think of him more as a father to me than Derrek was. He took me in when my mother couldn’t deal. I was raised by him from the time I was eleven until I went to college. He’s the one who was there when I graduated. He’s the one who taught me about carpentry. He’s the one whose death I mourn.”

“I’m so sorry for what you must have had to endure. Are still enduring. I cannot fathom how difficult your life has been at times.”

“Thanks for that. I suppose you’re curious why I asked you to drive all the way down here. I know it’ll eat up your whole day. This must be really important to your client. Or you have a hell of an hourly fee.”

I smiled. “Maybe it’s a little bit of both.”

“She was there when Derrek died, wasn’t she?” Boone asked.

“She was.”

“Did it help? Is she sorry she watched?”

“You know,” I said. “I never asked her that specifically.”

“I was invited,” Boone said. “In fact, Derrek wrote me a letter begging me to come. He said he found God in those last weeks before he died. I knew he was just being Derrek. Despite being a psychopath, he was a charmer. He brought up all these things from my childhood. In the very beginning, it was good. He was there for me. Every school function. Every baseball game. He even coached me in T-ball when I was five years old. They say he had an eight-year period where he wasn’t killing. People have studied him. It. They think things changed for him when I was born.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

Boone shook his head. “I don’t know. But I think it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t negate anything. I can’t allow myself to feel even a moment of love for that man.”

He went quiet. For several minutes, Boone went back to staring out the windshield. Finally, I broke the silence.

“Why am I here, Boone?”

He snapped out of his reverie. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. “Drive up to the gate. There’s a touchpad. Scan this QR code when it asks you to.”

I did as he instructed. The gate opened.

“Drive down this row and make a right. You want Unit 204. It’ll be about four units down after you make the turn.”

Two minutes later, we were parked in front of a giant red garage door. Boone stepped out. He scanned his QR code at another touchpad at a smaller service door. As I walked up to join him, I heard a click. Boone opened the service door and invited me inside.

It was pitch black for a moment, then Boone found the light switch.

We stood in a 10x10-foot storage garage. Metal shelves lined one wall. Labeled cardboard boxes contained a mishmash of categories. Pots and pans. Photo albums. Grandpa’s medals. Grandma’s Christmas antiques. Another shelving unit contained boxes of books.

There were two large file cabinets in one corner. At the center of the unit was a motorcycle covered with a tan shroud.