“Do you think my girls are still alive?” he asked through his hands.

His wife shot him a horrified expression.

Tara remembered the scene, the amount of blood, and she knew deep down that anyone who lost that much blood would most likely not survive. Her eyes drifted for a moment to the picture of the girls, which now rested on the coffee table in front of her. They were the center of this family and in Tara’s gut she knew this family would never be the same and it pained her deeply, for she understood it too. But, as she looked at the girls’ parents, she knew she couldn’t extinguish the flicker of hope they had, for it was all they had left.

“We will find your girls,” Tara finally replied. “And we will find the person responsible.”

Chapter Twenty Five

Moments later Tara and Warren stood on the street facing the perfectly lined houses. Warren held his phone to his ear as he listened intently to the forensics analyst on the other end. The analyst had just confirmed that the blood results were in, and Tara waited eagerly as the results were read to Warren. His face remained emotionless and Tara had a feeling the results were only confirmation of what they already assumed.

When he hung up, he spoke to Tara, his voice low to prevent anyone from overhearing even though they were a good distance away. The bustling scene around them had since died down. Many news crews had come and gone and those that remained carefully packed up their vans preparing for their departure.

“It’s almost certain that those girls were the victims,” he started. “They were able to determine from the blood that both victims were female—one in her early twenties, the other late teens.”

His words hung heavy in the air as Tara’s gaze moved to the houses in front of her and became fixated on the one they just came from. She imagined that it would’ve normally been a lively house, but now the blinds remained closed and if she didn’t just come from there, she would’ve assumed no one was home. She knew that house would never be the same. It would never see graduation parties or birthday parties. It would never hold the excitement of the girls getting married, or grandchildren running around. There would always be a hole where those new memories should form.

Tara’s stomach twisted in a knot at the thought. It was a feeling she knew all too well—that someone you loved was never coming home, and there was no doubt in her mind that the girls were not alive. Not only did the amount of blood make her assume the worst, but she also felt it in every bone of her body.

“We need some sort of lead,” Warren finally added.

But movement in the corner of Tara’s eye caught her attention and they darted to the house directly next to the victims’. An old woman was kneeling, weeding a flowerbed in her front lawn. Tara hadn’t even noticed her before, and she wondered how long she had been there. Every once in a while, her eyes would peek up, discreetly looking toward them, and Tara assumed she wasn’t just there to weed, but to get a glimpse of whatever was occurring on her street.