CHAPTER 27 - BLOOD TIES
The results arrived in a plain envelope.
Nothing extraordinary. Nothing that would warn Ella or Larry that the page inside would tilt the axis of their world. Ella found it on the edge of her kitchen counter in the safehouse, where she had tossed it earlier without a second thought. She only remembered it now because the silence between her and Larry had stretched too long, too tight, like a thread threatening to snap.
He sat on the couch, elbows on knees, hands clasped. His posture was rigid, but his eyes-those always-searching, always-confused eyes-were fixed on the floor.
The haunted look again.
It had been growing over the last few days, creeping into his expression whenever something sparked a flash of memory-voices, shadows, violent fragments that came too fast, too sharp, and always left him shaken. Ella had grown used to reading micro-tension in suspects, trauma victims, and hardened criminals. Larry wasn't any of those. Or maybe he was all of them at once. She still didn't know.
When she lifted the envelope, Larry looked up. Just slightly. But enough.
"Is that the DNA panel?" he asked quietly.
Ella nodded, unsure how the air suddenly felt heavier.
She hadn't expected much from the test-just a confirmation that his prints matched the man listed in the database, to help untangle the identity web surrounding him. Instead, the lab had run an extended screening because of what they called trace irregularities they had found on a cold case swab she had submitted weeks ago.
Ella took a breath. "Let's... see what it says."
Her hands were steady-she prided herself on that-but she felt something cold press into her spine as she unfolded the paper.
She scanned the first lines.
Then the next.
Then the section marked:
'Genetic Correspondence: Confirmed.'
Her throat tightened.
The page trembled just enough for Larry to notice.
"What is it?" he asked, voice growing tight.
Ella swallowed. "It's... a match."
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. For a moment, he froze in that way he did when memories tried to break through but failed-stillness that wasn't calm but contained fear.
"A match to what?" he asked.
Her eyes rose slowly, painfully. "Larry... it says your DNA is at the scene of the Jensen killing."
Larry blinked. Twice. A slow reaction that didn't look like guilt-more like stupefied confusion.
"The Jensen case?" His voice cracked almost imperceptibly. "Ella, that happened... eight months ago, right?"
She nodded.
"And I..." He shook his head, brows constricting as if he was trying to grasp a rope in the dark. "We only met four months ago. Before that, I-I don't even know who I was. But eight months? That doesn't make sense. I don't make sense."
He looked down at his trembling hands.
Ella's chest tightened. The impossible weight of the discovery crushed into her like a physical blow. Her mind raced-timeline, crime-scene cross-checks, the cold case board burned into her memory.
Larry stood abruptly.
"No," he said, pacing. "No. This is wrong. Something's wrong. I wasn't- I couldn't have-"
He broke off, gripping the back of the couch like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.
Ella forced her voice to stay level. "Larry, listen. Your DNA matches what was collected at the crime scene. But that doesn't mean you killed anyone."
"Then what does it mean?" he whispered, anguish threading through each word. "Because every time we get close to the truth, it's like... it's like someone built a maze inside my head."
Ella stood, moving closer. "It means someone wanted your DNA there. Or someone who looks like you-"
He laughed bitterly. "There's a photo of someone who looks like me with a different identity, remember? Archives? You said it yourself-there's a pattern."
"Yes," she said. "And that's what we need to understand. Whoever Wraith is... whoever you were or weren't... someone is deliberately tying you to these cases."
His jaw squared. Fear shifted to something harder. Anger. Resolve.
"And whoever they are," he said lowly, "they're not finished."
Ella felt a chill ripple through her.
Because he was right.
They weren't finished.
And neither was the nightmare they were trapped in.
They drove to the lab to speak with Dr. Maris, the forensic specialist who handled both the Jensen samples and Larry's most recent test. The city outside felt muted-streetlights flickering on as dusk sank into the skyline, cars hushing over wet pavement, pedestrians clutching jackets against the evening wind.
Larry leaned his head back in the passenger seat, silent. Withdrawn. But the tension rippled beneath his skin like static.
When Ella parked and turned off the engine, she spoke softly.
"We're going in there for clarity. Not blame."
Larry nodded, but his fingers were pressed so tight into his palms that his knuckles turned pale.
Inside, Dr. Maris greeted them with a tired smile and pushed her glasses up her nose. "Detective Grey. Larry. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
Ella held out the report. "We need to talk about this."
Dr. Maris skimmed it, brow tightening.
"Yes. The results were... unusual. But scientifically sound."
Larry scoffed. "Scientifically sound? Nothing about my life is scientifically sound."
The doctor hesitated, glancing at Ella for permission to continue.
"Tell us everything," Ella said.
Maris folded her arms. "There were silent markers-rare alleles-that appeared in both samples. In thirty years of forensic genetics, I've only seen markers like these in one other case."
Ella stepped closer. "Which case?"
The doctor swallowed, visibly reluctant.
"The Coldvale disappearances."
Ella's stomach dropped.
Coldvale.
The covert group linked to assassinations.
The same group her investigation was pointing toward.
The same group even whispers in law-enforcement circles feared.
Larry tensed. "So whoever put my DNA on that crime scene is tied to Coldvale?"
Maris inhaled. "Maybe. Or maybe... you are."
"No," Larry growled. "I'm not. I know I'm not."
Ella placed a firm hand on his arm. "We're not jumping to conclusions."
The doctor continued, choosing her words with caution. "Silent markers like these don't just appear. They're often the result of experimental treatments. Genetic therapies. In some cases... conditioning programs."
Larry flinched like she'd stabbed him.
Ella's grip on his arm tightened.
"What kind of programs?" she asked.
Dr. Maris shook her head. "I can't say. Records are sealed. Classified beyond my clearance."
Ella felt the air shift.
Larry had gone still again. Too still.
His voice, when it came, was barely audible.
"I remember restraints," he whispered. "Someone giving me injections. Telling me to forget her. Forget everything."
Both women exchanged a look-fear, disbelief, horror.
Maris cleared her throat. "There's more."
Larry's eyes snapped back in her direction.
"The sample from the Jensen case wasn't pure. It contained overlapping traces-DNA fragments spliced unnaturally. Someone tampered with the original evidence."
Ella's blood chilled.
"Meaning someone planted his DNA."
"Yes. Or," Maris hesitated, "someone used Larry as a subject in ways we don't yet understand."
Larry closed his eyes, visibly shaken.
Ella leaned closer. "Can you run a deeper analysis?"
The doctor's hesitation was answer enough.
"If I do... it could put all of us at risk."
Larry's voice hardened. "Do it anyway."
Maris exhaled shakily. "Very well. But whatever you think you've uncovered... be careful. People who manipulate biological evidence on this level don't just disappear. They erase anything that threatens them."
Ella's pulse thudded painfully.
Larry turned away, shoulders tight.
The doctor lowered her voice.
"And Detective... if your partner's DNA continues matching these cases-"
"He's not my partner," Ella said immediately.
But the doctor offered a thin, knowing smile. "Then he's someone you're willing to fight for. That makes him a target."
Ella felt her breath hitch, a tightness in her chest she didn't want to analyze.
"We're done," she said softly.
Larry followed her out with a numb, vacant look.
As the door closed behind them, Dr. Maris whispered something Ella barely heard:
"You're both already marked."
Rain misted the windshield, streetlights blurring into streaks of gold. Ella started the engine, but didn't pull out of the lot.
Larry stared out the side window, jaw clenched.
She spoke first, quietly. "You okay?"
"No." His voice was rough. Honest. "I don't think I've been okay since the day you found me bleeding in that alley."
Ella looked down, fighting the ache in her chest.
He turned toward her.
"There's something I need to ask." His voice trembled. "If the DNA matches keep piling up-if it really looks like I did these things-will you still believe me?"
Ella inhaled, heart twisting at the vulnerability in his expression.
"Larry," she said softly, "I don't believe in coincidences. Someone is building a narrative around you. I know that. And I know you."
"You don't," he whispered. "That's the problem."
"I know enough to believe you're not a monster," she insisted. "I know what fear looks like. What guilt looks like. And what manipulation looks like. Someone put you in the middle of this."
He stared at her, eyes shining with something raw-fear, gratefulness, and something deeper neither of them dared name.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Ella looked away because the intensity in his gaze stirred something too painful, too complicated.
Before she could think of what to say next-
Something slammed into the back of the car.
Hard.
Ella jerked forward, hands gripping the wheel. Larry's arm shot out instinctively, bracing her.
"What the hell-?"
A black SUV loomed in the rearview mirror, headlights blinding.
Ella's pulse spiked.
They were being rammed.
Again.
She threw the car into gear just as the SUV lunged.
"Ella-go!" Larry shouted.
She slammed the accelerator.
The SUV followed.
Harder.
Faster.
Relentless.
The tires screeched as Ella veered into the main road, weaving between traffic. Rain slicked the pavement, reflecting neon lights and offering the SUV behind them a perfect mirrored runway.
Larry twisted to look behind. "They're gaining."
Ella's voice was steady, though her hands were tight on the wheel. "I see them."
"They're not random," Larry muttered. "This is deliberate."
She swerved sharply around a delivery truck. The SUV clipped the truck, sparks flying, but recovered instantly.
"Ella-he's not trying to stop us," Larry said. "He's herding us somewhere."
Ella gritted her teeth. "Not tonight."
She swung onto a narrow back street. The SUV followed.
Larry's breathing quickened. "Left!"
She turned.
"Right!"
She obeyed.
The SUV closed in, unrelenting.
Ella shot a quick glance at Larry. His expression had shifted-something familiar, something instinctive. Tactical awareness flickered in his eyes, the ghost of a soldier he didn't remember being.
"Listen," he said suddenly, leaning forward, voice sharp and commanding. "At the next intersection, cut hard right and then brake."
She blinked. "Brake?"
"Just do it," he insisted. "Trust me."
Three words she would normally never obey from anyone.
But from Larry?
She didn't hesitate.
They reached the intersection.
Ella cut right.
Then slammed the brakes.
The SUV shot past them, unable to adjust to the sudden stop.
Ella floored the accelerator.
The car lurched forward.
Larry braced.
Ella rammed the SUV in the rear quarter panel.
Metal screamed. The SUV fishtailed, spun out, slammed into a lamppost with a thunderous crash.
Windshield glass rained over the street like fractured diamonds.
Ella sped away, heart pounding.
"That was insane," she muttered breathlessly.
"You trusted me," Larry said quietly.
She didn't answer because the truth terrified her.
She had trusted him.
More than she trusted most people.
They reached a secondary safehouse-smaller, older, deep in the industrial district.
Ella killed the engine and exhaled shakily, adrenaline still buzzing.
Larry leaned back in his seat, a trembling hand pressed to his temple. "I don't know how I knew to do that. I just... knew."
Ella didn't speak, but her mind raced.
Memories were bleeding through his blackout.
Skills he shouldn't remember.
Instincts that weren't normal.
And now, DNA tying him to crimes he couldn't have committed.
She drew a breath. "We need to get inside and regroup."
He nodded.
But as they reached the door, Ella froze.
The lock was broken.
Larry saw it the same moment she did.
Someone had already been here.
He tensed. "Ella-"
The hallway light flickered.
Ella pulled her gun.
Larry stepped behind her, a protective posture that felt far too natural.
She nudged the door open.
It creaked.
Inside, everything was silent.
Too silent.
Ella's flashlight swept across the small living area- overturned cushions, drawers pulled out, files shredded.
Intruders.
But one detail made Ella's blood turn to ice:
On the table was a single photograph.
A crime-scene photo.
But not from the Jensen case.
This one was recent.
Dated yesterday.
Ella stepped closer, heart hammering.
The victim was a woman.
Bound.
Bruised.
Unrecognizable.
But the message scribbled across the bottom in red marker-
That was unmistakable.
Ella read it out loud, voice tight:
"DNA doesn't lie. People do."
Larry inhaled sharply.
But the second line-smaller, slanted, almost taunting-drove a blade through the room's brittle silence.
"Finish what you started, Wraith."
Ella turned to Larry.
His face had drained of all color.
And then, with a trembling voice, he whispered:
"Ella... I've seen her before."
The woman in the crime-scene photo is connected to Ella's case.
She is not a random victim.
She is not from Larry's pre-amnesia life.
She is someone Ella has been desperately trying to protect - or someone whose disappearance was a loose thread she never had time to pull.
That makes this personal.
Dangerous.
And devastating.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
The only sound was the faint creaking of the old safehouse walls and the rain tapping against the broken window. The picture sat between them like a pulse - a violent heartbeat neither could ignore.
Ella forced her voice to stay steady, though her stomach clenched tight.
"Larry... what do you mean you've seen her before?"
He stepped closer to the table, eyes locked on the grainy face of the bound woman. Her features were swollen, bruised beyond recognition, but there was something unmistakable about the angle of her jaw... the shape of her brow... even the desperation frozen in her half-open eyes.
Larry swallowed, his throat working painfully.
"I didn't remember her name," he said. "Or where. But her face-" He shook his head harshly. "She was somewhere I shouldn't have been. Somewhere dark. Somewhere underground."
Ella's heart thudded once, hard.
She knew this woman.
Tara Blythe.
A crucial witness.
A missing witness.
A young nurse tied to one of Ella's earliest leads - a lead Ella had been certain would help unravel the corruption inside the department. She'd gone missing before Ella could interview her. The case stalled. The department claimed Tara had fled the city after receiving threats.
Ella never believed it.
Now Tara was dead.
And someone wanted Ella to know.
Wanted Larry to see it.
Wanted both of them to fall apart.
Ella felt nausea climb her throat. "Larry... she was a witness in my investigation. She disappeared three months ago."
Larry's expression twisted - confusion, horror, frustration. "I didn't know that. I swear, Ella. I've seen her, but not like this. Not-" He gestured helplessly at the photograph. "She was alive."
Ella's eyes narrowed.
"How recently?"
Larry closed his eyes. Memories flickered behind his lids - flashes of dim corridors, shadows moving, metal doors, the hum of machinery, muffled screams swallowed by thick concrete walls.
"I can't tell," he whispered. "My head- it's like pieces of a puzzle thrown in the dark."
"Try," Ella urged softly.
He clenched his fists. "I remember her sitting on a bed. Her wrists were bandaged. Someone was talking to her. Not kind. Not cruel. Clinical. Like she was an experiment."
Ella's voice shattered quietly: "That lines up with Coldvale."
Larry looked at her sharply.
Ella drew in a shaky breath. "Larry... Tara told a coworker she'd uncovered medical files connected to a secretive facility north of the river. She was afraid someone from law enforcement was watching her."
Larry's jaw tightened. "The mole."
The word hung between them like a blade.
Ella nodded slowly. "The mole in the department must've tipped them off she was talking to me. She was taken because she was a threat."
"And now they're framing me for killing her," Larry said, voice rough with anger.
Ella reached out instinctively - not touching him, not yet, but close.
"Larry... this means you're not connected to her death. You were there when she was alive. Not when-" She swallowed the second half.
He finished it anyway.
"When they murdered her."
Ella's chest tightened. "Yes."
He exhaled shakily, dragging both hands through his hair. "Why am I in the middle of this, Ella? Why do they want me to take the fall for every death connected to your case?"
Ella didn't want to say the answer aloud.
Didn't want to give shape to the fear building inside her.
But she owed him truth.
"Because someone wants to isolate me," she whispered. "Wants to bury my investigation. Wants to use you as the weapon to do it."
Larry went still.
"And because..." Ella's voice softened. "They're afraid of you."
Larry turned. "Afraid? Of me?"
Ella nodded. "They don't plant evidence on someone insignificant. They erase them. You're not insignificant, Larry. Whatever they did to you - whatever they tried to turn you into - they're terrified you'll remember."
Rain drummed heavier on the roof. The power flickered.
Larry stared at the ground, breathing uneven.
"That's what scares me," he whispered. "What if I'm exactly what they're afraid of?"
Ella stepped forward. This time she did touch him.
"Larry, look at me."
He did.
"You are not a killer."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've watched you," she said, voice shaking with emotion she wasn't prepared to admit. "I've seen the way you hesitate to hurt anyone. The way you react to blood, to violence, to anything that reminds you of that facility. You're afraid of what you could be, not what you are."
His breath hitched.
Ella's hand remained on his arm, grounding him.
Grounding herself.
Larry's eyes softened for a moment - a fleeting intimacy, fragile and unspoken.
But then-
A sudden crash shattered the room.
Both spun toward the window.
A brick lay on the floor, shards of glass glittering like ice around it.
Ella lunged for it.
Taped to the brick was another photograph.
This one clearer.
Sharper.
Deadlier.
She peeled the tape back with trembling fingers.
Larry stepped beside her.
When Ella flipped the photograph over, her body went rigid.
Because it wasn't a crime scene.
It was surveillance.
And the image was of her - walking to her car alone last night.
Someone had been watching her.
Tracking her.
Stalking her.
And behind her, half-hidden by a lamppost, stood a man in a dark jacket.
Face blurred.
But unmistakably familiar.
Larry flinched when he saw it.
"I- Ella, that's- that looks like-"
His own words died.
Because even in the blur, even in the poor lighting, even in grainy resolution-
The man in the photo looked exactly like Larry.
Ella's breath froze.
"No," Larry choked. "No. That's not me. I wasn't there. I wasn't-"
Ella stepped back, mind spinning, pulse pounding.
Her investigative instincts warred with everything she felt.
Everything she trusted.
Everything she believed in him.
Larry reached toward her, desperate. "Ella. They're using someone who looks like me. A double. A clone. Something- I don't know what. But that is not me."
Ella forced her breath to steady. "I know."
Larry's eyes widened, watery with relief. "You do?"
"Yes," she said, voice trembling. "Because I remember that night. And you were with me. I know where you were. I know."
He exhaled shakily, shoulders collapsing.
Relief washed over him - brief, fleeting.
Because Ella wasn't done.
"And because..." she added, lifting the photo, "the man in this picture is left-handed."
Larry blinked. "I'm not left-handed."
"No," Ella said. "You're not."
Larry stared again, expression twisting. "So someone is pretending to be me. Hunting you. Framing me. Controlling the narrative."
Ella nodded.
"And they're getting bolder."
Larry's voice deepened. "We have to leave."
Ella hesitated - just long enough for Larry to notice.
"What?" he whispered.
Ella's eyes darkened. "Larry... this means something bigger. Something terrifying."
He stepped closer. "Ella, what?"
She lifted the brick.
On the back, scrawled in the same blood-red ink as before, was a message.
Four words.
Four words that made Ella's entire body go cold.
"She's next.
Stop hiding."
Larry's voice broke. "Ella..."
But the message wasn't addressed to Ella.
It was addressed to him.
They both realized it at the same moment.
She's next.
Ella's pulse spiked.
Larry grabbed her shoulders. "We're leaving. Now."
She tried to swallow the panic clawing up her throat. "We don't even know where to go-"
"Yes, we do," Larry said, eyes suddenly sharp with a clarity he had rarely shown. "I know where I saw that woman. Tara. I remember the place."
Ella froze.
"Larry... where?"
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were burning with something fierce.
Determination.
"I know how to find the facility."
Ella's breath caught.
"You remember?"
"Not everything," Larry admitted. "Just a road. A sound. A smell. Enough."
"Larry- are you sure?"
"No," he said honestly. "But if we don't go now- whoever is doing this... they're coming for you."
Ella's heart twisted. "Then we go."
He nodded once.
She turned to gather their things-
And that's when the floorboard creaked.
Behind them.
Both whirled.
A silhouette stood in the hallway.
Tall.
Still.
Silent.
A man.
Ella's breath hitched.
Larry's blood went cold.
Because the face staring back at them - emotionless, dead-eyed, and perfectly still -
was Larry's.
Not a look-alike.
Not a mistaken glimpse.
Not a blur.
An exact copy.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same scars.
Same stance.
A perfect mirror.
The copy spoke in a low, chilling voice:
"You shouldn't have remembered."
Ella reached for her gun.
The double moved first.
Fast.
Too fast.
Larry shoved Ella aside just as-
A flash.
A blast.
Darkness shattering around them.
