Jennifer Lynne is a homicide detective working on one of the most horrific serial killing cases New York has seen in the last decade. When she and her partner get a lead on the suspect, they catch him with his seventh victim. But things go south and...
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What kind of person hosts a weekly "lunch" at two pm? My mother, that's who.
As I pull up outside my parents' house, I feel a sense of deja vu creep up behind me like it's about to grab ahold of me from behind the seat. It's not because I've been here before. No, not that. Sitting in the car against the curb, staring out the window at all the houses takes me back to that night. The night we arrested Jackson.
The night that derailed my life like a car wreck.
I can still feel how hungry I was to catch the killer. How badly I wanted to get him off the streets and that I wanted to be the one to do it. But now, I think that wasn't the point. Because my hunger only caused the crash.
And I'm still starving.
I can't think about that. I don't really want to go inside this house either, but if I had to choose, this one is the lesser of two evils.
Begrudgingly, I open the car door and step out onto the street. Immediately, I feel a stark contrast from the other night. Granted, it's because it's day time now, but also this is an entirely different street in a completely different neighborhood. Yet, the change makes me think of the Wizard of Oz; Jackson's street was of greys and monochromes. This one of pastels and vibrance.
In a driveway down the block, kids write on the pavement with colored chalk. Homeowners groom or garden in their front yards. Some of them even wave at me when I step out. It's just that kind of area. It hasn't always been this way though.
Our neighbors once treated us like pariahs, worried if they got too close, they'd be collateral damage. Of course, after my father's death, they changed their tune. The lady down the street brought half a dozen lasagnas. Before my dad died, she would talk about him and his "troublesome, good-for-nothing brats" behind our backs.
I didn't leave much behind when I moved out. The farther I was away from these people, the better.
Walking up the path to my mother's house, I notice that the grass is pedicured and the flowers thriving. At the front door, I glance down at the new custom welcome mat. Welcome to the Lynne's.
I ring the doorbell and a nauseatingly charming tune echoes from inside the house. Not long after, the door swings open and my mother gracefully leans against the frame. This time, her golden blonde hair is down and she has a purple apron around her waist. She gives me a grateful smile.
"Jennifer! You made it," She says, but I can't help but hear the questioning in her voice as if she doubted I would show up. "Come on in, sweetie."
As soon as I step in, I see two of my brothers in the living room. Nicholas and Alexander sit on opposite ends of the sofa, and they both lift their heads when I enter.
Alex grins and jumps to his feet. "Jen!" He rushes over and throws his arms around me. I can't help the smile that grows on my face when I hug him back.
