After scanning the page one more time, I closed my laptop and leaned back onto the couch. Travis gave me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and said he needed to head back to work, eager to finish up in time to come back for dinner. Sitting alone in the apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had transpired. First, my parents had lied about who I was my whole life, shaking what I thought I knew about my identity to the core. And now, as I was trying to connect with my biological family, here came the FBI, poking holes in the weak balloon of hope that had swelled when I met my uncle. It just had to be someone I hadn’t met yet. There was no way Cris was a serial killer.

Determined to sniff out any morsel of information, I decided it was time to do a deeper dive into Adam, the only other relative I knew of who was likely to still be alive. Since my previous attempts to find him on social media had failed, I put his name into a general Google search. I scrolled through two pages of articles and posts containing references to Adam Dominios who were all too young to be the Adam from my family tree, until I found what I was looking for. Bingo! An article from 2012 in a Boston newspaper about an explosion at a construction site that included Adam’s name and photo. He was one of the injured workmen. Out of all the photos I’d found during this search, he was the only one it could possibly be, given how old Adam would have been in 2012. I know Cris had mentioned Adam moved away to the West Coast, but he must have moved back east at some point.

I checked the byline and found the journalist, Caroline Kraut’s, contact email on the newspaper’s website. If I was right and this was the correct Adam Dominio, I hoped the killer was him and not Cris. It was scary to be so closely related to a killer, but at least with Adam, I hadn’t spent time getting to know him yet. While tracking him down could be dangerous, my only other option was waiting for the agents to give me more information. I knew I couldn’t wait for that, and there was no guarantee how much they would even tell me. I sent Caroline an email letting her know which article I was interested in and asking her to call or email me as soon as she could. The article was seven years old but I mentally crossed my fingers that she would still have information from that story, and possibly help me track down Adam.

Sara Wolfe & Frankie Paige

1999

CHAPTER 12