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She exhaled a calming breath and looked out at the crowd awaiting her presentation. Dr. Cutty was in the front row and had been integral in helping Sloan fine-tune her presentation. Her parents were in the back, and next to them was Eric Stamos, who’d made the trip from Cedar Creek. As a late arrival, Sloan saw Nora walk through the cage’s doorway. Nearly a year after a bullet ripped through her leg, and three surgeries later, Nora used a single crutch but managed without issue as she took a seat. She offered Sloan a subtle wave and a smile.
The room quieted and the lights dimmed. Sloan clicked a button on the remote and the SMART Board lit up with the title of her presentation.
Advancing the Science of Forensic Genealogy
“My name is Dr. Sloan Hastings, and over the next four hours I am going to detail how forensic genealogy allowed me to solve a thirty-year-old cold case—the disappearance of my birth parents, Preston and Annabelle Margolis.”
CHAPTER 77
Raleigh, North Carolina Friday, June 27, 2025
AFTER THE PRESENTATION SLOAN SPOKE WITH A FEW OF THE ATTENDING physicians who were riveted by her research and the story she had to tell. She introduced her parents to Dr. Cutty, who promised to take good care of Sloan during her final year of training. Todd Hastings made a final push for Sloan to consider forensic dentistry.
When the crowd thinned, she found Eric in the back of the cage.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here,” Sloan said.
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t have missed it. You were great, by the way. Everyone in the room, or the cage—whatever this place is called—was hanging on your every word.”
“Thank you. And really, Eric, it means a lot to me that you came. How long are you in town?”
“Heading back tomorrow.”
Sloan nodded.
“Listen, Sloan . . . thanks for everything you did for me.”
“It wasn’t just me.”
Eric cocked his head. “None of it would have happened without you. I’d still be looking for answers about what happened to my dad. Now I know.”
“I wish we could have found those answers while your grandfather was still around.”
Eric smiled. “Me too.”
There was a long stretch of silence.
“I’ve got an early flight in the morning,” Eric said. “But I’m wondering if you’d let me take you out to dinner tonight. To celebrate.”
Sloan nodded. “I’d love to. You want to come by my apartment at seven?”
“Yeah, perfect.”
“You still remember how to get there?”
“How could I forget?”
“I’ll leave the Mace in my desk drawer.”
“Appreciate it,” Eric said with a smile. “See you tonight.”
After Eric left, the only people remaining in the cage were her parents. Sloan looked around but Nora was gone.
Sloan drove home with the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders. Two weeks of downtime sat between her and the start of her second year of fellowship. She was ready to get away from research and into the morgue, and sensed that she was one year away from fulfilling her dream of forensic pathology. With the baby Charlotte case on her résumé, Sloan would have no problem finding a spot on a homicide task force.
She pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, grabbed the box from the backseat that contained her year’s worth of research, and carried it up the steps. When she made it to the third level, she found two things waiting for her. The first was a package wrapped in brown paper propped against her front door. The second was Agent John Michaels, who leaned against the wall much like Eric Stamos had a year before.
“How’d your dissertation go?” he asked when Sloan made it up the stairs.
