With narrowed eyes, Maggie looked from her garden into the rising sun over her neighborhood. In addition to her work as Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and her volunteer work with the Boston Children's Association, she was frequently asked to speak at medical conferences. As a result, she was increasingly rarely at home and hardly spent time with her wife, Elizabeth. And just last Saturday, when she wanted to go out for a romantic dinner with the former captain, Maggie was called to a crime scene at the last minute. Elizabeth's disappointment was written all over her face when the redhead had to set off for work.

That's why Maggie left her office at 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon, loaded Elizabeth into the car without further ado, and spent the rest of the day with her without being disturbed. She had promised Elizabeth that this weekend would be all about them.

She took a sip of hot coffee and enjoyed the free weekend again. She wasn't on call, so she switched off her cell phone yesterday evening when she and Elizabeth entered the restaurant. What could possibly go wrong?

More out of habit than conscious thought, she took her switched-off cell phone downstairs and switched on her iPhone. Then she put it on the garden table and closed her eyes momentarily. Not even ten seconds later, as the device connected to the phone network, she heard the familiar short vibration that signaled the arrival of one or more messages. She opened her eyes, picked up her phone from the table, and looked at the display. She had three missed calls. All were from her daughter Ashlyn.

xxx

Ashlyn woke up from a restless sleep. What was that? She opened her eyes and was surprised to find that she was not in bed but on the couch. The tenth episode of a crime series played on the large TV mounted on the wall at the front of her living room, next to the old fireplace. Ashlyn shook her head. She must have fallen asleep during the first episode last night.

It took her a moment to come to, and she looked around. Her cell phone. Where was her cell phone? She sat up and followed the sound of the ringing with her eyes. It had slipped into the crack between two couch cushions. Just as she had fumbled out the smartphone, the ringing stopped. Too late. A glance at the display revealed that Maggie had called her. She called her mother immediately. The voice on the other end said the caller could not be reached. Classic, Ashlyn thought. She's probably talking to my mailbox right now. And not two seconds later, her hunch was confirmed by a short text message. Ashlyn called Maggie again, and this time, her mother answered immediately.

"Ashlyn! Good that I reached you. I hope I didn't wake you up. I thought it was urgent after listening to your voice message that I should call you back."

"No, no, it's fine. I was already awake," Ashlyn lied, making a face and rubbing her eyes exhaustedly. Thanks for calling me back."

"What's this about?" Maggie sounded a little concerned.

"Tim Garner. The friend of the deceased Justin Booker. My client. Last night, someone tried to kill him. Well, at least we can't rule that out. It seems someone pushed him in front of a bus." Ashlyn paused while Maggie processed the message on the other end of the line.

"And what happened?" the ME asked.

"He was lucky. Thanks to a quick reaction, he probably escaped with only a few abrasions. He's at Beth Israel and will probably be released today. The doctor wanted to keep him overnight for observation."

"And the police?" Maggie asked. "What are the cops doing?"

"They took the initial report last night, but I haven't talked to anyone since. It was pretty late, around nine at night."

"Is it all connected? I mean, that would be obvious."

"There's certainly a lot to go by," Ashlyn said, getting up from her couch.

"Do you think Garner is in danger?"

"If it's not a coincidence, it could well be. Absolutely, yes."

"Then you should probably arrange for police protection, shouldn't you?"

Ashlyn stretched and suppressed an accompanying groan. "It's an obvious thought, no question. I suggested it to him right away. But Garner is strictly against it. He's afraid of the police for some reason. I suspect it has something to do with that unfortunate Granther experiment. It's no wonder. Garner has initiated numerous preliminary proceedings, either he wasn't believed, or the cases were dropped. Heaven knows what else happened to him as a child."

"And now?" Maggie asked.

"And now we have two things to do. I'll fill Micaela in on everything we know. Together, we should be able to shed some light on the matter and find out who and what is significantly involved. But first of all, I have to get Garner to a safe place. However, I still have no idea how to do that."

After a short pause, Maggie said, "I have an idea. I have a good friend who still owes me a favor. Garner could stay with him for a while."

Ashlyn raised her eyebrows and paused. "A good friend?"

"Yes, from before I lived in Boston. He's in the army, and I'm sure he can take Garner in for a while.

"All right," Ashlyn said. "Then do me a favor and give me your friend's name and address, and I'll make sure Dominic picks up Garner and brings him to your buddy."

"All right," Maggie replied. If Ashlyn could have seen her, she would have seen the look of relief on her face. Everything could be arranged by cell phone, and she wouldn't have to give up the weekend with Elizabeth. 'I'll get back to you with all the necessary information in the next few hours.'

xxx

After Ashlyn showered, dressed, and had breakfast, she called her old college friend, Micaela Barboza. When she had summarized the essential information, she was not surprised that Micaela more than questioned her plan.

"But Ashlyn, that's completely absurd. We could take much better care of Tim Garner. Based on the information we have, we should take care of him. Not you."

"Maybe so, but I can't force Garner to be happy, Mica. But that doesn't mean I can't help you with your investigation. I suggest that we meet and put all the information on the table. I'm sure the answer to all the questions lies in the past."

Micaela didn't seem immediately convinced and remained silent regarding Ashlyn's suggestion. After a short pause, however, she agreed. "Okay, as I said, I'll see that I trace all sources. Give me a little time to do that. Why don't we meet on Monday evening and see what happens?"

"Monday evening sounds good. Should I come to your office?"

"No, I'll be working from home on Monday. Why don't you come to my place? Say around seven?"

Ashlyn paused for a moment, frowning deeply. At Micaela's house, that sounded good. 'All right. See you Monday night.' However, her joy at the prospect was short-lived; she was suddenly reminded that Micaela, like herself, was in a relationship. And as much as she was looking forward to seeing her college friend, she had little desire to meet Micaela's husband. Regarding personal matters, she was not particularly good at controlling her feelings. Perhaps at hiding them from others. But from herself? Absolutely not. And with each conversation she had with the ADA, it became increasingly clear that she was slowly starting to feel feelings for Micaela again.

xxx

Marcus Cantu looked thoughtfully at the white paper in front of him. Every Sunday evening, he wrote down all the crucial points that awaited him in the coming week and that he wanted to take care of on his to-do list. He had started a habit many years ago that helped him prioritize his work. A politician's daily routine was so full of unexpected events that it took work to constantly watch the essential issues.

He knew he had to focus now. With each passing day, one event became more and more significant: the upcoming election to the House of Representatives. In eight weeks, it would be time. Millions of Bostonians would cast their votes and decide the political fate of the city. And his personal fate. The poll numbers continued to develop well, and his popularity grew disproportionately among younger voters.

But one thing was increasingly worrying him. He pushed aside his to-do list and returned to the brief report that was sent to him every morning, giving an update on the current situation in the DA's office regarding capital crimes and organized crime. Both topics were the focus of particular media attention. Cantu wanted to avoid being asked by a journalist one day about a crime he had not yet heard of.

One thing in particular caught his eye. The preliminary hearing for the manslaughter of Justin Booker. Booker!

A name from the past. From a time he would have liked to have erased from his memory. A time that caught up with him again just a few weeks ago. With ruthless harshness. He had always taken the necessary steps to bury this matter once and for all. But obviously, that had yet to be successful. An employee had also informed him that a certain Tracy Payne from the Boston Observer had made various inquiries to the youth welfare office and the DA's office. Why did this journalist have to snoop around in this unfortunate case? Couldn't she have waited until next year? Then, he would have been elected mayor long ago and had completely different options for dealing with the matter. But he had no choice but to handle the whole thing his way. Not exactly an uplifting feeling, considering who might still owe you a favor or be receptive to bribery – and dropping hints about it or poking around on the darknet like a sleazy crook to find dubious henchmen. And in a way, the worst thing he could do, because it was so low and dirty, making files disappear, like a pathetic, overburdened official who muddled his way through because he had initially ignored some process and then misjudged it so that now the only thing that helped was to duck and cover-up. That damn Granther experiment!

Cantu swore. He wished this obscure scientist had never crossed his path with his completely absurd ideas. At the time, he hadn't understood the implications of his decisions. And to be honest, he hadn't really cared.

One event among many. He thought. If he had thought about it at all. It was too long ago. He only remembered a little. And it didn't matter what had happened. What was more critical was dealing with the present. Whether he liked it or not. He had taken several actions against his actual convictions. He had only the interests of the city in mind. And its citizens. There were so many important things he wanted to take care of. Yes, he had to take care of it. He didn't want to let this absurd thing get in his way. It couldn't. What mattered was the future. But to shape that, he had to come to terms with the past. By any means necessary. Whatever the cost.