Page 157 of Broken
“Have fun at school, Ethan,” his mom said.
“Bye, Nana and Papa,” Ethan called out.
After situating Ethan in daycare, he drove to his office.
One of the first-floor receptionists flagged him down and handed him a business card. “A Detective Kealing is waiting in reception for you.”
Several people were heads-down on their phones. As he made his way over, they all looked up. Some were seated on the sofas and chairs, while two stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Detective Kealing?” Prescott called out.
The woman near the window made her way over. “Mr. Armstrong, I’m Detective Kealing. I’m investigating the murder of your sister.”
“Let’s talk over here.” He led her to the other side of the two-story atrium, where they’d have privacy.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she began. “Were you and your sister close?”
“We only met a few months ago.”
“Why’s that?” the detective asked.
“Her mom dated my dad. After they broke up, her mom found out she was pregnant, but never told him. My dad met and married my mom, but he died when I was a baby. After Sally’s mom passed, she discovered we were related, and she contacted me.”
“I see,” Kealing said. “Did you know she was pregnant?”
“Not until the autopsy report,” Prescott replied. “I requested the DNA profile of the fetus. I’m hoping to get that back soon.”
“Was she seeing anyone?”
“She never mentioned it. But her three-year-old, Ethan—who’s been living with me since she died—told me his mom had a special friend, but Ethan didn’t like him because he made scary faces.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“He called him Mr. Man.”
“Who’s Ethan’s dad?”
“Also deceased.”
“Wow, you have that in common with him.”
“My dad had pancreatic cancer. I don’t know how Ethan’s dad died.”
“Would you be willing to bring Ethan to the station so we can try to get a description of Mr. Man? I’ll arrange to have a child therapist there as well.”
Prescott nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“I’ll set something up for next week.” She handed him her business card.
As Prescott escorted the detective out, Artemis pulled into his front-row parking spot.
He entered the building, phone to ear, a smile splitting his face. He hadn’t seen his uncle this happy in a while. As he gave him the once-over, he realized he’d dropped at least thirty pounds.
Prescott wanted to follow up on Markesha’s concern about TopCon’s rebranding project.
“I’ll talk to you later.” Artemis hung up and regarded Prescott. “What exciting weekend plans do you have?”
“Taking the boat out. You?”
