Page 135 of What Goes Around

Then Holt looked down at the file.

“About ten years ago, during a transfer of evidence storage from one facility to another, the sample was misplaced.”

“What?” I asked. “How does that happen?”

Moreno exhaled. “Chain-of-custody errors. A mislabeled box. A shelf logged incorrectly. We can’t say for sure.”

“Best case scenario,” Holt said, “it was misfiled with another case and will turn up during a review.”

“And worst case?” I asked.

They exchanged a glance.

“Worst case,” Moreno said, “it was destroyed. Lost permanently.”

I breathed out slowly.

“Any leads now?” I asked.

“We’ve been re-interviewing colleagues and friends,” Holt said. “Over the past year, we contacted your father several times. He declined to come in.”

“And Marissa?” I asked.

Moreno flipped a page. “Marissa Colins?”

“Yes,” I said. “The mistress. She goes by Marissa Richards now. My father married her seventeen years ago.”

That earned a pause.

“She also declined to speak with us,” Holt said. “All communication through her attorney.”

Then he continued, “There were multiple witness statements regarding tension between your mother and Marissa.”

My attention sharpened.

“At the office where your father worked,” Moreno said. “And where Marissa was employed. Witnesses described open hostility. Arguments. Raised voices.”

Holt nodded. “Your mother confronted her there. Security was alerted. It was memorable because it was ugly and public.”

“No formal incident report,” Moreno added. “But enough people remembered it for it to matter.”

“After the murder,” Holt said, “Marissa produced a doctor’s note. Seven months pregnant. On modified bed rest. Claimed stress-related complications.”

“There was no physical evidence placing her at the house,” Moreno said.

“With the pregnancy,” Holt continued, “the injuries inflicted on your mother would have required significant strength. A prolonged physical struggle. Blunt force trauma. Stabbing.”

He chose his words carefully.

“No jury would convict based on circumstantial evidence alone,” he said. “Especially given her condition at the time.”

“So she was ruled out,” I said.

“Not ruled out,” Moreno corrected gently. “Deprioritized.”

“And my father?” I asked.

They paused.