Detective, you need to see this.

The luminal had revealed a pattern on the concrete floor, glowing an eerie blue green under the UV light.

Not just spatter, but a large pool and drag marks leading toward what had been a loading dock.

That’s a lot of blood, Chen said quietly.

Consistent with two victims bleeding out.

The drag marks suggest they were moved after death, probably loaded into a vehicle.

Can you tell how old it is?

Park asked.

Luminol reacts to blood regardless of age.

But given the location, the pattern, and the amount, I’d say this matches our timeline, we’ll need to do further testing, try to extract DNA if any survived.

But this looks like our primary crime scene.

Cordderero stood in the warehouse, imagining what had happened here 25 years ago.

Olivia and Marcus, newly married, hours away from starting their honeymoon.

Someone had lured them here or forced them.

Someone had executed them in this cold, empty space, then loaded their bodies into the trunk of their own car.

Bag everything, he said.

Every sample, every fiber.

Someone murdered them here, and if there’s even a trace of evidence left, I want it found.

As the forensics team worked through the night, Cordderero stepped outside and called Harper Witmore.

She deserved to know what they’d discovered.

She answered immediately.

Detective Miss Whitmore.

We’ve located what we believe is the primary crime scene.

The warehouse where Data Sync Solutions operated in 1998.

We’re processing it now.

There was a long silence.

Then Cole Brennan’s warehouse.

Yes, he killed my sister.

He killed them both.

And then he took everything Marcus had built.

My god.

We don’t have enough evidence yet to make an arrest, but we’re getting closer.

I promise you, we’re going to find out exactly what happened that night.

After ending the call, Cordderero looked up at the stars visible above the warehouse.

The same stars that had watched over this building the night Olivia and Marcus Trent took their last breaths.

The same stars that had seen their killer walk away free.

But not anymore.

The evidence was there, buried in concrete and time.

And Detective Cordderero was going to bring it into the light.

The DNA results from the warehouse came back 3 days later.

Detective Cordderero sat in his office reading the report with growing certainty.

The blood found in the old Datasync warehouse matched both Olivia and Marcus Trent.

But there was something else.

Something that changed everything.

A third DNA profile, degraded but still identifiable, extracted from skin cells found mixed with the blood evidence.

The profile belonged to someone who’d been in direct contact with the victims at the time of their deaths.

Cordio immediately ran the profile through every database available.

No match in Cotus, the national criminal database.

No match in Arizona’s state records.

Whoever had killed the Trent had never been arrested, never been fingerprinted, never left their DNA in any official system.

But that didn’t mean the profile was useless.

It meant they needed to get DNA from their suspects.

Officer Park knocked on his door, entering with her laptop.

I found Jessica Moreno.

She’s Jessica Vance now.

Lives in Gilbert with her husband and two kids.

I spoke to her on the phone and she confirmed Ryan Hollis’s story.

says he came to her apartment the night of September 19th, [clears throat] 1998 around 10:30 p.

m.

and stayed until almost 4:00 a.

m.

They broke up that night.

She was pretty upset when I called.

Said her husband doesn’t know about the affair and she’d appreciate us being discreet.

Corddero leaned back in his chair.

So Hollis’s alibi checks out.

He couldn’t have been at the warehouse.

Looks that way, but I did find something interesting about his financial records.

Park turned her laptop to show him the 15,000 he withdrew.

It wasn’t just for the apartment.

He also made a payment to someone named Victor Salazar.

Cordderero sat up straighter.

Salazar, the same man Brennan owed gambling debts to.

Exactly $5,000 paid in cash according to Hollis’s records two weeks before the wedding.

What was Hollis doing paying money to a man connected to organized crime?

I asked him that this morning.

He claims he attended a few poker games, lost some money, paid it back, says he didn’t know who Salazar really was.

Cordderero stood and grabbed his jacket.

It’s time we had a conversation with Victor Salazar.

Where is he now?

That’s the thing.

He’s completely legitimate these days.

Owns a chain of car dealerships across the valley.

Does charity work.

Sits on the board of a children’s hospital.

If he was ever connected to organized crime, he’s cleaned up his act remarkably well.

Or he’s just better at hiding it.

Set up a meeting.

I want to talk to him today.

Victor Salazar’s flagship dealership sprawled across several acres in central Phoenix.

Gleaming rows of luxury vehicles arranged under colorful banners advertising special financing.

The showroom was all glass and marble, and Salazar’s office was on the second floor overlooking his automotive empire.

The man himself was in his late 60s, silver-haired and distinguished, wearing a suit that probably cost more than Cordiero’s monthly salary.

He stood when they entered, his handshake firm, his smile professionally warm.

Detectives, please have a seat.

My secretary said this was about the Trent case.

Terrible thing.

Just terrible.

I’ve been following it on the news.

Mr.

Salazar, we understand you ran highstakes poker games in the late 1990s.

Cordderero began, watching the man’s face carefully.

Salazar’s smile didn’t waver.

That was a lifetime ago, detective.

I made some poor choices in my youth.

I’ve spent the last 20 years building legitimate businesses and giving back to the community.

We’re not here to discuss your past business ventures.

We’re investigating a double homicide.

Two people who knew you, who owed you money, died the night of September 19th, 1998.

I knew a lot of people, detective, and many of them owed me money at various times.

That’s the nature of gambling, but I never hurt anyone over debts.

That would be bad for business.

Cole Brennan owed you approximately $50,000 in gambling debts, Park said.

Ryan Hollis owed you $5,000.

Both men had connections to the victims.

If they owed me money, they paid it back.

I have records, all perfectly legal now since I’m no longer in that business.

But I can assure you I had nothing to do with any murders.

Cordio pulled out a photograph of Marcus and Olivia Trent taken at their wedding.

Do you recognize these people?

Salazar studied the photo for a long moment.

Something unreadable flickering across his face.

I’ve seen their pictures on the news, but I didn’t know them personally.

Cole Brennan never mentioned them to you.

never discussed his business partner who was planning to file embezzlement charges.

Cole discussed a lot of things when he was drinking and losing at poker.

I didn’t pay much attention to most of it.

What about the night of September 19th, 1998?

Where were you?

Salazar leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanging.

Detective, that was 25 years ago.

I have no idea where I was on any specific night from that time period.

Let me refresh your memory.

That was the night a poker game was held at the Datasync warehouse in Tempe, Cole Brennan’s warehouse.

Multiple witnesses have confirmed that you were there.

For the first time, Salazar’s composure slipped slightly.

His eyes narrowed.

Who told you that?

Does it matter?

Were you there or not?

Salazar was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming on his desk.

I may have attended a game there.

It was a convenient location and Cole offered it when his home wasn’t available, but that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with what happened to those people.

Who else was at that game?

I don’t remember.

It was 25 years ago.

Mr.

Salazar, Cordderero said, leaning forward.

We have physical evidence from that warehouse, DNA evidence, and we’re going to be requesting samples from everyone who had access to that location the night of the murders.

I’m sure you understand that refusing to cooperate would look very suspicious.

Salazar’s jaw tightened.

I’ll need to speak with my attorney before I agree to any DNA testing.

That’s your right.

But I should tell you that we’ve already obtained samples from Cole Brennan and Ryan Hollis.

If your DNA matches what we found at the scene, no amount of legitimate business success is going to protect you.

After they left Salazar’s office, Park turned to Cordderero in the parking lot.

He’s lying about something.

Did you see his face when you showed him the photo?

He recognized them.

I’m sure of it.

But recognizing someone’s photo from the news isn’t the same as proving he killed them.

Cordderero’s phone rang.

It was the forensics lab.

Detective, we’ve completed the analysis on the DNA from the warehouse.

We got a hit on a partial match in a genealogy database.

What kind of match?

Familial.

The DNA we found is related to someone who submitted their profile to one of those ancestry websites.

A woman named Patricia Salazar.

Cordderero felt his pulse quicken.

Victor Salazar’s relative?

His daughter, which means the DNA at the crime scene likely came from Victor Salazar himself or a close male relative.

After ending the call, Cordderero stood in the parking lot, pieces falling into place.

Victor Salazar had been at the warehouse.

His DNA was at the murder scene, and he’d lied about knowing the victims.

“We need to dig into Salazar’s past,” he told Park.

“Everything.

If he was involved in this, there has to be evidence somewhere already on it.

I’ve got requests in for all his financial records from 1998, phone records, witness statements.

But detective, if Salazar killed them, why”?

He had no direct connection to Marcus and Olivia.

No, but he had a connection to Cole Brennan.

And Brennan had 200,000 reasons to want Marcus dead.

What if Brennan didn’t just mention his problems to Salazar over cards?

What if he paid him to solve those problems permanently?

Back at the station, they found a message waiting from Cole Brennan’s attorney.

Brennan had left the country 3 days earlier, taking a private jet to Costa Rica.

No return date scheduled.

Son of a is running, Park said.

Or Salazar told him to run.

Either way, it makes him look guilty as hell.

Cordio grabbed his phone.

Get me everything you can on Salazar’s organization from the ’90s.

Who worked for him?

Who did his dirty work?

Someone helped him kill those kids and bury that car in the desert.

Someone who’s still around.

Someone who might be willing to talk if it means avoiding a murder charge.

The investigation was narrowing.

After 25 years, the walls were closing in.

But Cordderero knew that cornered men were dangerous, and Victor Salazar was not the type to go down without a fight.

Harper Witmore couldn’t sleep.

She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind churning through everything Detective Cordderero had told her.

The warehouse, the DNA evidence.

Victor Salazar’s name kept appearing, connected to both suspects present at the scene where her sister had died.

At 2:00 a.

m.

, she gave up on sleep, and went to her home office.

She’d kept everything related to Olivia’s disappearance in boxes in the closet, unable to look at them, but unable to throw them away.

Now, she pulled them out, spreading newspaper clippings and police reports and personal items across her desk.

There was Olivia’s wedding invitation.

The script elegant and hopeful.

Photos from the reception.

Olivia laughing.

Marcus with his arm around her waist.

Guest lists.

Vendor contracts.

All the detritus of a celebration that had ended in murder.

Harper picked up the guest list, running her finger down the names.

She’d looked at this list hundreds of times over the years, wondering if the killer had been there, smiling and drinking champagne while planning what came next.

Cole Brennan’s name was there, of course.

Ryan Hollis wasn’t.

He hadn’t been invited.

But there were others, names she’d forgotten, people who’d been on the periphery of Olivia’s life.

One name jumped out at her.

Thomas Salazar.

She didn’t remember anyone by that name at the wedding, but there it was on the list with a plus one notation.

Salazar.

Could it be a coincidence?

She grabbed her phone and called Detective Cordderero, not caring about the hour.

He answered groggy, “Miss Witmore, what’s wrong”?

The guest list from the wedding.

There’s a name on it.

Thomas Salazar.

Is he related to Victor Salazar?

She heard rustling.

Corddero waking up fully.

Spell the first name.

T H O M A S.

He had a plus one.

I don’t remember who he was or how he knew Olivia and Marcus.

I’m calling Officer Park.

Stay on the line.

Harper waited, her heart pounding.

After a few minutes, Cordderero came back.

Parks checking the records now.

Thomas Salazar is Victor’s nephew.

He would have been in his early 20s in 1998.

Parks pulling his information.

Why would Victor Salazar’s nephew be invited to Olivia’s wedding?

That’s what we’re going to find out.

Miss Whitmore, do you still have the RSVP cards from the wedding?

Harper looked through the boxes, finding the small stack of response cards her mother had saved.

She flipped through them until she found it.

Thomas Salazar, attending with guest, written in neat block letters.

I have it.

It’s here.

Don’t touch it anymore.

I’m sending someone to pick it up.

There might be fingerprints or DNA on that card that we can use.

After ending the call, Harper continued searching through the boxes.

In a folder of wedding correspondents, she found something else.

An email print out from Marcus’s account dated three weeks before the wedding.

It was from someone named Tommy asking about final numbers for the rehearsal dinner.

Marcus had replied, confirming space for 30 people at the restaurant.

At the bottom, Tommy had added, “Looking forward to celebrating with you both.

You and Cole have built something special”.

Harper’s breath caught.

Tommy had known both Marcus and Cole.

He’d been involved in the business somehow.

She took a photo of the email and sent it to Cordderero.

At the police station, Cordderero and Park were already pulling up everything they could find on Thomas Salazar.

His driver’s license photo showed a man now in his late 40s, dark-haired like his uncle with the same calculating eyes.

He works for Victor, Park said, reading from her screen.

has for the last 20 years started as a salesman at the dealerships.

Now he’s vice president of operations, but before that in the late ‘9s he worked for Data Sync Solutions.

Cordderero looked up sharply.

He worked for Marcus and Cole according to tax records.

Yes, he was employed there from 1996 to 1999, right through the time of the murders.

So he knew Marcus personally.

He was at the wedding and he had access to the warehouse.

Cordderero stood.

We need to bring him in now.

They found Thomas Salazar at his home in Paradise Valley, a sprawling ranchstyle house with a view of Camelback Mountain.

He answered the door in a robe, his face showing annoyance at being woken at 4:00 a.

m.

Thomas Salazar.

I’m Detective Cordderero.

We need to ask you some questions about Marcus and Olivia Trent.

The annoyance on Tommy’s face shifted to something more guarded.

What about them?

You knew them.

You attended their wedding.

You worked for their company.

That was a long time ago.

What’s this about?

We’re investigating their murders.

And your DNA is related to DNA we found at the crime scene.

We need you to come to the station and answer some questions.

I’m not going anywhere without my lawyer and my uncle’s lawyer.

Your uncle?

Why would you need Victor Salazar’s lawyer?

Tommy’s jaw tightened.

Because I know how this works.

You’re trying to pin something on my family, but we had nothing to do with what happened to Marcus and Olivia.

Then you won’t mind providing a DNA sample to eliminate yourself from our investigation.

I’ll discuss it with my lawyer.

Now, get off my property.

As they drove back to the station, Park turned to Cordderero.

He’s going to lawyer up and stonewall us.

Let him.

We have enough for a warrant now.

His DNA is related to the crime scene sample.

He had access to the warehouse and he knew the victims.

That’s probable cause.

By dawn, they had the warrant.

By noon, Thomas Salazar was sitting in an interrogation room, his lawyer beside him, refusing to answer questions.

But Cordderero had been a detective long enough to know when someone was scared.

And Tommy Salazar was terrified, his hands shaking slightly as he sat rigidly in his chair, his eyes darting to the door every few minutes.

“Your uncle killed them, didn’t he”?

Cordderero said quietly.

“And you helped.

Maybe you didn’t want to.

Maybe he forced you.

But you were there, Tommy.

Your DNA is at that warehouse.

You can’t run from that.

My client isn’t saying anything without Cole”.

Brennan is gone.

Fled to Costa Rica.

That leaves you holding the bag for a double murder.

Your uncle’s DNA is at the scene, too.

He’s going down for this.

The only question is whether you go down with him or whether you tell us what really happened.

And maybe, just maybe, the prosecutor goes easier on you.

Tommy looked at his lawyer, who shook his head, but Tommy’s resolve was cracking.

Cordderero could see it in his eyes, the weight of 25 years of secrets pressing down on him.

I want a deal, Tommy said suddenly.

Full immunity for testimony.

Tommy, don’t.

His lawyer began.

I’m not going to prison for something my uncle did.

I was 22 years old.

I didn’t know what he was planning.

I didn’t know until it was too late.

Cordio leaned forward.

Tell me what happened that night.

Tommy closed his eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was hollow.

Cole came to my uncle, desperate.

Marcus was going to file charges against him, ruin him.

Cole owed Uncle Victor money, too.

A lot of money.

Uncle Victor said he could make the problem go away.

But Cole had to help.

Help how?

Cole called Marcus the day of the wedding.

Told him there was an emergency at the warehouse.

Something about a breakin.

Marcus said he’d stop by on the way to the airport just for a few minutes.

He brought Olivia because he didn’t want to waste time dropping her off.

Parker’s pen moved rapidly across her notepad.

What happened when they arrived?

I was there.

Uncle Victor made me come.

He said I needed to learn how business was done sometimes.

I thought he was just going to scare them, threaten Marcus or something.

But when they walked in, Tommy’s voice broke.

He shot them just like that.

Marcus tried to fight back, protect Olivia, but Uncle Victor shot him first, then her.

It was so fast.

There was so much blood.

The room was silent except for the hum of the recording equipment.

Cole was there too, Tommy continued.

He was supposed to be in San Diego, but he’d driven back.

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