CSI Texas

Chapter Two

The cardboard flaps of a moving box flopped open as Victoria shoved in the last of the coffee mugs, wrapping them half-heartedly in old dish towels. The Phoenix house smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and nostalgia, both of which made her chest ache. The kitchen was almost bare now — just a few essentials left, a fading memory of the life they were leaving behind.
She could hear Sam humming down the hall, music playing faintly from her Bluetooth speaker as she packed up her room. Despite her resistance, Sam had finally started taping up boxes, sketchbook open beside her as she scribbled outfit designs between loading her closet. The compromise about the bedroom and potential dog had worked — for now.
Victoria wiped her hands on her jeans, staring absently at the window above the sink. Her reflection was faint, but her eyes looked tired. No amount of packing or planning could distract her from the thought that had been clawing its way back into her mind all week.
Alan Caine.
She hadn’t said his name aloud in years, but it echoed in her thoughts like an old song she couldn’t shake. Her fingers slowed over the tape dispenser as the memory of that night — the night — flickered back to life, no matter how much she tried to will it away.
She had been twenty-five, fresh-faced and starry-eyed, attending her first major criminology convention in San Diego. Alan had already been well known in the field: sharp, confident, and disarmingly charming. She remembered watching him speak from the second row, taking furious notes, too enthralled to even sip her coffee.
He had been magnetic.
After the seminar, she hung back in the lobby, pretending to check her phone while stealing glances in his direction. Then he had noticed her. Smiled. Walked right over and asked her opinion on his final slide. She had stumbled through a nervous response, but he had listened — really listened — and then invited her for a drink like it was the most natural thing in the world.
One drink became three, the conversation a blur of case files, career goals, and shared fascination with forensic patterns. The chemistry had been undeniable. That night had ended in the kind of whirlwind passion she’d only ever read about — then quietly buried the next morning when they both returned to reality. No calls. No promises. Just a polite goodbye and a firm handshake.
Nine months later, Samantha was born.

Victoria swallowed hard and set the tape down, rubbing the back of her neck. She had told herself Alan didn’t need to know. He was married at the time. A daughter would have complicated everything — his life, her budding career, Samantha’s future. So she raised her daughter on her own, told herself it was the right choice, and never looked back.
But now she was walking straight into his world.
Of all the CSI departments in the country, she thought bitterly, why San Antonio?

Sam wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and holding a rolled-up sketch. “Can we keep this out of the boxes? I want to show it to my new design teacher — if they have one.”
Victoria smiled, grateful for the shift in energy. “Of course. We’ll keep a few things out of the car.”
Sam grabbed an apple from the counter, then leaned against the fridge. “Do you think they have a decent swim team there?”
“I already looked,” Victoria said, wiping her hands. “Their high school is the top three in the region. They have a heated indoor pool and everything.”
Sam looked away, hiding a faint grin as she bit into her apple. “Cool.”
For a moment, things felt normal again. But that didn’t last long.
As Sam wandered back toward her room, Victoria glanced at the growing pile of boxes by the door and felt that familiar unease creep back in. The house in San Antonio was a fixer-upper — wood paneling, faded carpet, questionable wallpaper. But it wasn’t just the house she was anxious about. It was the man at the top of the department she was about to join.
Alan Caine.
Would he recognize her? After sixteen years, would he see something in her face — or worse, in Samantha’s —and start connecting the dots?
God, what if he sees Sam? The girl had her smile, sure, but her sharp eyes? Her stubborn tilt of the chin? That was all Alan. Victoria had spent years hoping no one else would ever notice.
She picked up her coffee cup — cold again — and tossed the contents in the sink. She didn’t have answers to the questions swirling in her head, only more anxiety. If Alan did find out... what would he do? Would he be furious? Would he want to be part of Sam’s life? Would he demand explanations she wasn’t ready to give?
And what about Sam?
Victoria hadn’t told her the truth. Not even close. As far as Samantha knew, her father was just a brief chapter, not worth mentioning — someone who had left before she was born. Victoria had painted it vague and neat and buried the rest. But secrets didn’t stay buried forever. Not when you walked into the same office as the man you once left behind. Victoria took a deep breath and leaned on the counter. The sun had shifted slightly outside, casting new light on the half-empty house.
Tomorrow, they’d be on the road to Texas. A new home. A new job. A new beginning.
But the past had already packed its own bags — and it was coming with them.