by Sarah Sutton
As Tara placed her phone down, she spotted a woman walking to the entrance. She looked like she could be in her forties. She had red, curly hair, and Tara’s heart began to pound.
Before the woman reached the door, Tara rolled down her window. “Mackenzie,” she yelled. The woman stopped in her tracks. She spun around, a confused and fiery glare scanning the parking lot. Tara felt her palms begin to sweat as she stepped out of the car.
“Mackenzie James?” Tara asked.
The woman glared at her skeptically as she cautiously began to walk closer. She was around Tara’s height, 5’6”. She wore form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt that accentuated her slender build. She had dark brown deep-set eyes, and as Tara looked into them, for a moment it felt as if she had seen them before. But then she scanned the rest of her face—her petite little nose, her porcelain skin. She was remarkably pretty and looked relatively young for her age, but Tara was sure she had never met her.
“Yes?” the woman said once she was close enough.
Tara had been in her car, contemplating over and over again how she would approach her. She would ease into it, she had told herself. But in that moment, as she stood in front of her, everything Tara had planned blended into one, and she was unable to pull the pieces apart in chronological order.
“How do you know Richard Mills?” Tara asked. It was blunt and straightforward, and at the question, the woman stiffened. Her eyes narrowed into a cynical glare.
“Tara,” she said under her breath, suddenly realizing who she was. Her eyes opened wide with panic at the realization. “He’s my friend,” she spat. “Is that a problem?” She was trying to sound tough, but her voice shook. For some reason, Tara’s presence was making her increasingly anxious.
“You must be pretty close friends then, since you visit him almost every day.”
She stayed silent a moment. The bit of information had caught her off-guard. “I suppose so,” she replied. She stared Tara straight in the eye, as if afraid to turn away, or as if too afraid to show her nerves, which she had already revealed.
“How do you know my name, anyway?” Tara asked, but the woman didn’t answer. Tara sighed. “I’m not trying to start trouble with you. It just seems odd that my dad has such a close relationship with someone that I know nothing about, and I don’t see why it’s such a big secret.”
The color suddenly drained from the woman’s face. “We’re friends,” she muttered again, but her voice shook even more.
“Romantically?” Tara questioned.
But the woman didn’t respond. It was as if she wasn’t sure if she should say any more. And as Tara stared into her eyes again, the same familiarity washed over her. It was as if she’d seen that same terrified look in the same eyes before.
“I think we’re done here,” the woman finally uttered as she turned away from Tara and began to walk to her car.
“You just got here,” Tara called after her, but it didn’t stop her. She opened her car door and quickly got inside. “Wait!” Tara yelled, picking up into a run as she ran toward her. Tara knew she most likely would not get this opportunity again, and she suddenly regretted coming at her so strong. “I just want to talk,” she yelled again, but it was no use. The woman wanted nothing to do with her. The car sped through the parking lot to the exit, and before Tara could even capture a plate number, it made a left turn and barreled down the road until it could no longer be heard at all.
Tara stood in silence, defeated. She had traveled all this way, and now she was leaving just the way she had come—empty-handed. The only bit she gained was a face to put to the name, but without knowing where she lived or anything about her, that bit of information was useless. But as the woman’s face surfaced into Tara’s mind, a thought suddenly burst through. The reaction—staring at Tara dead in the eye as Tara asked her questions, afraid to pull away, and then quickly leaving when it got too difficult—she had seen it before. It was the same reaction her father had, and at that thought, another one came crashing down. The deep-set, dark brown eyes. The look of terror—it felt as if she had looked into them before. And then it occurred to her: they were identical to her father’s.
Tara stared out into the street as she pieced each thought together, trying to make sense of it. Am I just searching for a connection? she wondered, but as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true. The resemblance was all too real, and it could only mean one thing: they were related.
Chapter Thirty Four
Tara and John walked along the path of Jones Point Park, his arm wrapped around her waist. Tara had arrived back in Washington, D.C., earlier that day, and John had insisted that they go out to dinner that evening and for a short walk before. He said she needed it, and Tara couldn’t resist. She knew she owed it to John. He wanted so badly to spend time with her, and he was right; she needed it too.
She had already told John what had happened that day when she met Mackenzie, and he had agreed that the whole scenario seemed odd.
“You sure she looked like your dad?”
“It was an uncanny resemblance,” she replied with a nod of certainty. “I just don’t get it. If she’s related, who would she be?” Tara had already tried to connect the dots as best she could. Her father only had one sister, but Tara knew she had passed away, and Mackenzie most certainly was not the same person. “Maybe a cousin?” she questioned, but at the thought, she knew it would be unlikely for them to have the same eyes unless they were immediate family. And then another thought surfaced—one that had been reoccurring––but she kept swatting away. Could her father have had another daughter? The thought sent a chill down her spine. Mackenzie was nineteen years older than Tara and twenty years younger than her father. It was certainly possible, but Tara buried the thought. “I don’t know,” she finally sighed. John kissed her cheek as a warm breeze flowed, making the coolness of his kiss linger as he pulled away.
“You will find answers,” he told her. “You always do.”
Tara looked out onto the water that glistened under the setting sun. She knew there was no more to say. She would have to keep looking, keep searching. There were answers out there. She just had to find them. She felt John’s hand pull away from her waist and then inch into her hand until he clasped it tightly. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
“But I think you need to let go sometimes, even if it’s just for a moment or a day. You owe it to yourself to clear your head,” he added.
Tara nodded. He was right. She owed it to herself to relax. And she owed it to John. Her mind had been spinning in full gear for as long as she could remember now, and she couldn’t recall the last time she actually enjoyed a walk or a dinner. “You’re right,” she said with a smile. “Let’s just enjoy this.”
He gave her hand another squeeze as they continued their walk. Tara watched runners go by, people on roller blades, an older woman feeding the seagulls, and it occurred to her how much she always missed from not being in the moment and how much there was to see. She stared out onto the water, marveling at the beauty of it all, at the clouds bursting with fragmented light, at the water shimmering.
She felt another pull on her hand as John slowed to a halt, and she turned around to face him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, but then she stopped herself from asking more. The sky danced in his eyes, his smile beamed from ear to ear, and she knew nothing was wrong at all.
“Tara, I love you with all my heart,” he began. His eyes were filled with emotion, and Tara didn’t quite understand why he was telling her this all of a sudden.
“I love you too, John,” she replied.
“We’ve both grown so much, and I truly think it’s because we have each other to lean on. We make each other better, don’t you think?”
Tara nodded. It certainly was true. Part of the strength she had in coming to terms with her past was because John supported her and encouraged it. He had also always been there each time Tara doubted her abilities as an agent, cheering her on, never once
giving her reason to feel discouraged. And it was with Tara’s encouragement that John had gotten back into music.
John suddenly bent down on one knee, still holding Tara’s hand as her heart fluttered. “I’ve been waiting a long time to find the right moment.” He chuckled. “It hasn’t been easy.”
She knew what he was about to ask, and it all suddenly made sense—why he was growing frustrated that it was so hard to spend time with her, why his mother was acting odd at dinner that one night, why she was so nosey about Tara’s sudden trip to New York. With the case and her personal issues with her father contently at the forefront of her mind, she had almost forgotten that she had sensed this all along.
He let go of Tara’s hand, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a little black box. Tara’s eyes widened as he pulled it open. Inside, a large single diamond caught the sun and shimmered.
“John,” Tara gasped.
“Will you marry me, Tara Mills?” He looked more handsome than ever, the remaining bits of sunlight captured in his blonde hair.
“Yes,” she gasped.
A huge smile formed on his face at her words. He pulled out the diamond ring and slipped it onto Tara’s finger. But her eyes stayed focused on him. She grabbed him by the hand, pulling him up onto his feet, and wrapped her arms around his waist. His folding around her—his embrace feeling safer than it ever had. He was hers. She was his, and nothing else mattered.
Epilogue
Tara turned onto Tenth Street as she balanced a coffee tray in one hand and clutched a bag of bagels and John’s favorite breakfast sandwich in the other. She had woken up early. John was still asleep, and she had decided it was about time she did something nice for him.
She looked down at her hand gripping the brown paper bag––at her ring sparkling in the morning sun––and a warm feeling spread throughout her body. They had only been engaged less than twenty-four hours and Tara was still in awe. All this time, she had worried that John was feeling too distant from her, but in reality, he was just trying to find a time to propose. Tara knew now she had not made it easy for him—the trips to New York, her mind always on the case or her father.
She wanted to enjoy this moment, to soak it up for all it was worth. John was right. She deserved to live in the moment––to take a break from all that her mind constantly worked to solve. She not only owed it to herself, but also to her relationship with John. She had just finished a case. For now, she had a slight break from work. And finding out who Mackenzie James was could wait. She wanted to enjoy this little bit of time with John as much as she could.
Tara pushed the large turnstile door of her apartment building and walked over to the mailboxes, placing her coffee and paper bag onto the floor. John was usually the one to grab the mail, but since they were both home late last night, neither of them had. She unlocked the box with her apartment number and pulled out a few pieces of mail. She looked through them quickly. They were mainly junk, and one electricity bill, but she stopped on one last envelope. It had no return address, but it was handwritten and addressed to her. She wasn’t expecting anything, and Tara rarely received a letter in the mail unless it were a bill or something of that sort. She ripped it open. Inside sat a piece of folded paper. One edge was ragged, as if had been ripped out of notebook. She unfolded it, and for a second Tara lost her breath as she stared down at two words scribbled across the page. STOP DIGGING.
Tara looked around her. It seemed like a sick joke, but she knew no one could’ve put it in her mailbox. It had Tara’s address on it. It was clearly mailed, and Tara’s blood went cold. It wasn’t her father’s handwriting, and she only knew of one other person that could’ve sent it: Mackenzie.
Tara folded the piece of paper and placed it back into the envelope as her mind raced. She knew it could only have been sent for one reason: desperation. Mackenzie James was hiding something, something terrible, that she wanted to lie dead forever.
NOW AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER!
ONE LAST UNVEIL
(A Tara Mills Mystery––Book Three)
ONE LAST UNVEIL is book three in the FBI mystery series by debut author Sarah Sutton.
A true-crime podcaster is found brutally stabbed to death in her home after walking her child to the bus stop. At first, all fingers point to those closest to her. But when a friend and fellow podcaster digs into her obsession—a cold case laid to rest for fifteen years—and later turns up dead, local police realize that a serial killer dubbed the Silent Stalker could be striking again for the first time in years.
With the FBI called in and no leads to follow, they quickly realize they need a brilliant mind to crack the case: FBI Agent Tara Mills. But Tara is reluctant at first. The case reminds her too much of her mother’s, when it’s revealed that the victim’s daughter—a selective mute––lost her mother at the same age as Tara. But Tara is compelled as she realizes it is only a matter of time before he strikes again. As she peels back each layer, she falls deeper into the darkest depths of her mind and into the nightmares she had tried so hard to escape.
Meanwhile, Tara digs deeper into her past, obsessed with revealing the mystery woman visiting her father in prison, which leads to a shocking discovery. As she battles her own psyche and more victims go missing, Tara realizes that the key to solving it all could be what she finds most triggering: her connection to the victim’s daughter. As she takes a path she fears to travel, deep into the depths of her mind, she unveils a truth she never expected.
Book #4 in the series will be available soon!
ONE LAST UNVEIL
(A Tara Mills Mystery––Book Three)
Sarah Sutton
Debut author Sarah Sutton is author of the TARA MILLS mystery series, which includes ONE LAST STEP (Book #1), ONE LAST BREATH (Book #2), and ONE LAST UNVEIL (Book #3).
ONE LAST STEP (A Tara Mills Mystery––Book One) is available as a free download on Kobo!
Sarah has always been fascinated by the mystery genre and loves to write suspenseful books with complex characters. Sarah would love to hear from you, so please visit www.sarahsuttonauthor.com to email her, to join the mailing list, to hear the latest news, and to stay in touch!
BOOKS BY SARAH SUTTON
TARA MILLS MYSTERY SERIES
ONE LAST STEP (Book #1)
ONE LAST BREATH (Book #2)
ONE LAST UNVEIL (Book #3)