According to statistics, only fifty one percent of homicide cases had been solved in the year 2022. That left half of all murders in the United States unresolved. And half of the families of the murder victims with no answers, no closure...no justice. And according to statistics, the reason for such a tragic clearance rate was fairly simple. There were more murders being committed than there were people to solve them.

States had been given inadequate resources to properly fund local police departments. There weren't enough homicide detectives, enough forensic technicians to work crime scenes, enough medical examiners to handle cases in a timely fashion, and certainly not enough laboratory facilities capable of keeping up with the influx of evidence. Boiled down, most communities simply lacked the necessary funds and manpower to properly investigate major crimes.

In terms of real world consequences, all those factors combined gave someone bent on committing murder a fifty-fifty shot at walking away scot-free.

It was mind boggling, really. With all the modern technology that could be involved in police work...DNA, fingerprinting, palmprinting, wrist vein mapping, gait analysis, iris recognition...fewer and fewer homicides were actually being solved just because there weren't enough people to use those technologies to hunt down the perpetrators.

Thinking on it, the odds seemed about as poor as one man standing on a beach, physically trying to fight back the ocean waves as they rolled into shore. He could fight as long and hard as he could possibly fight, he could use every tool available to him, but the waves were going to win by sheer force of volume. That man, valiant though his effort, was fighting a battle he could not win.

That was how police work felt at times. Like trying to fight back wave after surging wave, never making any headway, and basically, just trying not to drown.

As futile and foolhardy as it could seem, though, those stalwart souls that were drawn to policing thought it was worth spending their lives trying to single-handedly fight back those never ending waves simply because, in doing so, they might be able to save just one person from a watery grave.

That was the thing that kept most law officers going. The notion of saving even just one person. However, in her case, by the time she was called in, it was already too late. The victim was beyond saving. So, she instead tried to save the family that had been left behind.

In reality, helping one family was akin to catching a single drop of water from one of those waves crashing into shore and tossing it back into the sea. It made absolutely no difference on the whole. The person was already gone. And another person would be taken, given only a matter of minutes. Which would leave another family grieving, wanting answers, wanting justice.

No. Counting the whole, helping one family changed nothing. It didn't shift crime rates or lower statistics. It didn't comfort all the other families who'd never gotten their answers. But, for that one family...it changed everything.

She, on the other hand, did feel like she was drowning at times. Especially when she'd been called in on back-to-back cases for nearly six months straight. She'd already been to Cincinnati, Miami, Great Falls...and now Santa Maria.

She'd almost said no. She'd almost told Sheriff Grainger that she needed a break, some time off to rest. She hadn't wanted to turn away a family that she might be able to help, but she'd also been steering clear of Texas with a measure of vehemence for nearly fifteen years.

But, a favor had been called in and Clyde Grainger was someone she considered a friend, as well as a mentor, so she couldn't turn him down, no matter how much she might want to. And so, she was driving along Sunset Lane, straight toward the very thing she'd been avoiding. Well, what she'd been avoiding wasn't actually a thing. It was a person.

Swinging her Wagoneer into the driveway of the small stucco house with the low wall around the front yard, she slid it into park...and then froze. Staring through the windshield at the structure that was painted a faded peach hue, she felt dread squeezing her stomach tight. And then she felt a wave of guilt following closely behind.

She should not dread seeing her sister. Of course, she also shouldn't have been avoiding contact with her sister for the past fifteen years. But, they had both chosen that path. They had both walked away from one another and, other than a few phone calls spread throughout the year, just to check in, hadn't had any further contact. It just felt...easier...that way.

The rest of their family was gone. They were the only ones left who...remembered. And since Peyton preferred not to remember, and since she herself couldn't seem to forget... Well, there was no reason for them to stay in touch. But, a step beyond that, looking into one another's eyes, all those memories flared up. All those dreadful, nightmarish memories... And the darkness and the filth of those memories simply tainted things between them.

Admittedly, avoiding an entire state just because her sister lived there was probably a bit unnecessary, but the further they stayed away from that living, breathing part of the past, the better it was for both of them.

The only reason she'd even considered driving to her sister's house was because Peyton lived in Santa Maria, at least for the moment, and to be in the same town as her only living relative and not even bother to let that relative know, seemed a bit hurtful. The town was home to just under a million people, so running into Peyton on the street probably wasn't likely, but her face would eventually be plastered all over the local news and Peyton catching sight of her that way was within the realm of possibility. And no matter what else, she didn't want her sister to feel as if she didn't matter enough to even warrant a face-to-face visit.

Pulling in a breath, she cut the engine and released the seatbelt, trying to fortify herself. She hated that the notion of facing her own sister felt so...grim. She hated that she couldn't be happy to finally see Peyton after so many years. She hated that things between them couldn't be...normal. Just...normal.

But, unfortunately, Robert Stark had ruined any hope of normal for either of them.

At this point, she could only hope for quick and painless. She just wanted to let Peyton know that she was in town and then she could get on with her day. She had an appointment to get to and an unsolved murder to work. And sitting in her jeep, staring at nothing, wasn't getting a single thing accomplished.

Taking the key from the ignition, she pushed open the door, allowing a gush of thick heat to rush over her, making her suddenly miss the climate in Great Falls. She'd spent nearly a month in Montana and the mild weather had spoiled her, leaving her woefully unprepared for August in South Texas.

Dropping her keyring into her leather messenger bag, she slammed the driver's door closed, the metallic sound echoing through the stillness. Standing in the early morning sunshine, she glanced along the quiet street that was dotted with squat, one story stucco homes and a scattering of lanky pinyon pines, taking in several cars that were more than a few years old, mailboxes that were hanging open, and filled trash cans that were waiting for the city to come and empty them.

It was a very nondescript, working poor sort of area. Granted, it wasn't exactly a slum. The houses appeared at least outwardly maintained, the street itself clean and kept. But, there was an air of desolation about the place, of bleakness, almost as if there was very little life around, despite the fact that people obviously lived in the small, walled in homes.

Turning her gaze back to her sister's house, to the washed-out red Nissan parked in front of her vehicle, she couldn't help but feel a pang in the center of her chest. She and Peyton had both been given the same opportunities. They weren't from a wealthy family, to be sure, but their grandmother had been able to afford them at least a modest education. She had chosen that route, going to college and working to pay for whatever her mamaw couldn't cover. Peyton, however...

Peyton had chosen to start running. The day the girl had turned eighteen, she'd up and left. And without even finishing high school. She'd had a mere five months left before graduation and she'd simply given up and hit the road. And she'd been on the run ever since. Every couple of years she was in a new town, working a new menial job, usually living with a new boyfriend, or several new boyfriends, if she stayed put for long enough.

As it happened, Peyton had landed in Santa Maria, and as of their last phone call a few months prior, she was working at a day spa, but had been in between boyfriends. Of course, that was months back, so all that could have changed ten times over.

She was aware that she, too, had spent most of her adult life running. True, it was part of her job, but she was still on the run, going from state to state, town to town, only going back home to Savannah for a few weeks at a time before she was up and off again. But, at least she wasn't living hand to mouth. At least she had a career and a permanent home she should ever decide to...stop running.

She wanted that for Peyton. After everything they'd been through, after...everything...she wanted her sister to have a decent life. They both deserved at least that much.

Sucking in another breath and giving herself a bit of a shake, she forced her legs to move beneath her, to carry her along the driveway and up to the wooden door in the center of the stucco wall. Pausing for a beat, she gave the wrought iron handle there a twist and pushed the heavy door inward, stepping through the opening to find herself in a small courtyard with sand colored gravel covering the ground and a few pieces of lawn furniture strewn about.

Following a slate stone path through the gravel, she made her way up to the front door, noting that the large windows on either side were dark and curtainless, giving the house something of an abandoned feel. Ignoring the knot in her stomach, she pressed the doorbell, faintly hearing the sound echoing through the house. And even before the musical notes had died away, she found herself acknowledging that, for two cents, she would have turned tail and fled. She hadn't been this close to her past in fifteen years...

Just as she was contemplating whether or not to ring the bell again, the door suddenly opened...and her sister was there. And time abruptly stopped.

For a moment, she was almost unsure whether she'd gotten the right house. She hadn't seen Peyton in so long. And she'd never seen the adult version of Peyton at all. But, it was Peyton standing in front of her. Peyton...fifteen years older, with too-tanned skin, lips that were too full and cheeks that were too enhanced, breasts that were too large for her slender frame, which was still clad in pajamas. She had a head full of perfectly tousled curls that were now varying shades of blonde rather than jet black, large mascaraed eyes that were now vivid blue instead of hazel, and she was wearing enough makeup to obscure the freckles that should have been visible across her cheeks and nose.

It was Peyton, only anything that could physically be changed had been changed, so that she only vaguely resembled her former self.

Seeing her sister face to face, she felt herself jolt so that she flinched. And Peyton had much the same reaction, her body going stiff and her eyes going as wide as saucers. For the span of several heartbeats, they were both suspended there, neither of them moving as they regarded each other. Then, just as the silence filling the courtyard began to stretch out for a bit too long, Peyton blinked a few times, a stoic expression taking over her heavily made up features.

"They finally killed him?" the woman asked in a dry, uneven tone that held a measure of stony resignation.

Hearing her sister's voice without thousands of miles and a cell phone as a buffer between them, not to mention hearing that familiar voice coming from such an unfamiliar visage, was something of a shock to her system, leaving her feeling slightly off balance somehow. But, she forced herself to shake it off and move past it.

"No. He's...he's still alive," she answered, watching some of her sister's stoicism falter. "I'm not here about that."

Peyton lifted a finely arched brow, which was dyed to match the color of her hair. "Oh? Then...what's wrong? What's happened?"

She couldn't blame her sister for assuming that she'd come bearing the news that...he...was finally gone from the earth. After all, what else would bring them together after so many years?

"Nothing's wrong. At least, not with me," she replied, wanting to offer a smile and then changing her mind. "I'm in town to work a case, so I thought I should come by and let you know that I'm here."

Peyton's brow lifted a fraction higher. "You're here for a case?" she asked, sounding slightly skeptical as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I am," she responded, feeling herself take a step backward. "I didn't know if you'd want to see me. I just...didn't want to be this close without telling you."

Peyton merely stared at her, brow lifted and unnaturally blue eyes cold and aloof, making no further effort at conversation.

She took another step backward, preparing to turn and make for the door across the courtyard. She hadn't known what to expect from Peyton, but what she was getting was more than enough to cement the fact that a few yearly phone calls between them was plenty adequate. Truly, she could feel the chill right down into her bones.

"Well, I have a meeting to get to," she stated, awash with discomfort. "Maybe we'll run into one another before I leave town."

That much said, she spun about and started back along the flagstone path, feeling like something of a heel for even trying. They had both given up their relationship for dead years ago. And it was obviously best that the dead thing stay dead.

With her eyes set on the exit, she picked up the pace, wanting to put some distance between herself and what had clearly been an error in judgment. But, halfway down the path, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, bringing her to a halt and spinning her around. And the next instant, Peyton was pulling her into a bone crushing hug that all but forced the wind out of her lungs.

"Tessa, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Peyton croaked out, her voice thick and unsteady. "I-I was...I just never expected you to show up at my door! Please, you...you don't have to go!"

After a stunned moment, she wrapped her arms around her sister and gave the woman a stout hug in return, something deep inside her splintering ever so slightly. It had been so long since she'd seen Peyton, so long since she'd felt...anchored, since she'd felt as if she wasn't drifting through life completely on her own. That sudden rush of belonging jarred her so that she found her throat choking closed.

"Please, can you stay for a few minutes?" asked Peyton as she released her vice-like grip and moved a step back. "I-I can make some coffee and we can...talk?"

A quick moment passed while she debated her sister's offer. She hadn't gotten as far as considering that she might actually be invited into Peyton's home for a chat. She wasn't sure she was prepared.

"Please, Tessa. I'd really like you to stay," Peyton urged, her previously aloof gaze abruptly swirling with feeling and bright with the threat of tears. "Please."

Suddenly not trusting her own voice, she gave her head a nod, watching relief roll over her sister's face. She was the one who'd decided to knock on Peyton's door, so the least she could do was sit and talk for a minute.

Peyton, taking hold of her arm and starting them back toward the house, gave her something of a shy, awkward smile, made worse by the fact that her lower lip was trembling slightly. "Well, let's pretend that it hasn't been a thousand years since we've seen each other and you can tell me all about what's brought you out to the middle of the desert, Special Detective Stark."

Offering another nod, she found herself wishing it was just that easy. But, pretending wouldn't change anything. They couldn't pretend away the past fifteen years. And they certainly couldn't pretend away everything that had caused them to part ways in the first place. However, it couldn't hurt to try and ignore all that long enough to have a cup of coffee and pass a few words. After all, they might never get another chance to be together, all things given.