Memories

For disclaimer, see the first chapter.

Libby still remembered the call that came into the office. It was almost like yesterday. She had just wrapped her case and was doing the final paperwork on it.

"O' Brian! Dispatch just called in a 419 on 4300 block of Park Avenue." Someone had shouted into the office.

Paul O' Brian looked up from the desk. He was older, in his mid-forties and a 20 year vet of the BCA. He looked over at Libby.

"Don't your parents live in that area?" he asked.

Libby had paused briefly before she heard Paul mutter, "Oh shit."

"Well, Paul, let's go. What's the worse thing that could happen?"

Never in a million years, would she imagine the possibilities. She never imagined that the crime scene they were about to investigate was her childhood home. Nor that the victims were her parents.

When they pulled up in front of the house, she felt numb and very cold; something very rare for July in Minnesota. Paul immediately looked at her and told her to go back to the office.

Libby objected in every way that she could, but Paul wouldn't hear any of them. He immediately pulled aside a police officer and instructed him to take her back to the office.

It was a long time before she was called down to the coroners' office to ID the bodies. And in those brief moments, her world came crashing down on her.

The phone call to Kylie had been the worst thing she ever had to do and it was the only thing she could do for the case. There would be no work for Elizabeth Porter on this case.

It was a very quick case, however; very cut and dry. Her father had shot and killed her mother and then turned the gun on himself. He left a note for the girls which Libby obtained after they closed the case. In it, was the most damning thing that had ever crossed the imaginations of the Porter girls.

Roy was not their father.

He did not reveal any information as to who their father was. He didn't want to destroy the happiness that had been built for the girls.

Libby remembered thinking. "Well, gee Roy. It's a little late for that don't ya think?"

In the letter he had said that he'd fallen in love with a then pregnant 22 year old Marilyn Green. Her lover and father of her first child had left town without little explanation. He knew that he was not their father but loved them as though they were his own, even adopting them after he and Marilyn had been married.

Marilyn had always had a problem with fidelity. In fact, she had had numerous affairs during their 27 years of marriage. The last one had been a final blow. In a jealous rage, Roy shot Marilyn while she slept and then turned the gun on himself.

At the funeral, there were many people in the room. Libby had wondered aloud how many of them were actually her mothers' former lovers. She received a death glare from Kylie for that comment.

But they knew almost everyone in the room. There was one exception to that rule. He was a man who sat in the back of the church and had kept to himself throughout most of the service.

He was in his late-forties with graying brown hair and hypnotic blue eyes. He wore a black suit and a dark royal blue shirt underneath that. Libby noted to herself that he was rather handsome in a rugged sort of way.

"Kylie, who is that?" she asked.

"Like I know. I don't live here anymore. Remember, you're the golden child."

"Somebody's jealous."

"Shut up, Libby."

After the service, she sought the man out but he had disappeared. She questioned many people at the dinner but no one seemed to know who he was. Libby half-wondered if he had been her father.