But we knew a whole lot more about him now. When we ran his DNA samples through the FBI’s and Europol’s vast databases, we were stunned to get twenty-six different matches to DNA gathered at homicide scenes around the world.
M had definitely been in that broken-down cabin at the fishing camp. His skin cells were on the dead preschool director. They were on Katrina Nixon as well.
His DNA was also found aboard the sex traffickers’ yacht and in the apartment of Detective Ron Dallas.
But with no fingerprints and no other solid information about him, it was as if the man did not exist.
Ali could have easily let the experience traumatize him. But other than enduring confusion as to why M had targeted him, he’d gone right on to new obsessions, the Galápagos Islands and computer coding. And he continued to mountain bike and carry on his friendship with Captain Abrahamsen, who was thrilled Ali was okay.
Another positive was I got to see Martin Forbes walk out of court a free man, determined to spend the rest of his days wisely.
“You saved my life, Cross,” he’d said before hugging me. “I’ll never forget it.”
And Bree and I could not forget that M remained a threat to our family. We installed our own cameras inside and outside the house and insisted that Jannie, Nana Mama, and Ali never travel alone.
Bree and I were constantly swiveling our heads at large public gatherings, like the track meet. So far, we’d seen no one who resembled M anywhere in the stands.
The long-jump event started. Jannie’s early attempts were middle of the pack but enough to qualify for the finals, where she finished seventh of eight and twenty inches off the winner. She came out of her last jump shaking her head, shoulders slumped.
“I can do better,” she said to me afterward.
“I know you can.”
“I just wanted to show Coach Mac something.”
“So show him in the four-hundred.”
That brought back the bounce in her step. It didn’t leave her the rest of the day.
In the four-hundred finals, Jannie broke clean in the fifth lane, ran easy off the outside shoulders of the three leaders through the backstretch and into the final turn.
With a hundred and twenty yards to go, and despite all the injuries and illnesses she’d fought in the past two years, my daughter seemed to find a gear we’d thought she’d lost and began bounding more than running.
We went crazy when she chewed up the gap, caught the leaders with fifty meters to go, and won the race by three-quarters of a second.
“She’s back!” Ali shouted, jumping up and down. “Jannie’s back!”
“Did you see that?” Damon crowed. “It was like those other girls were standing still at the end!”
“We all saw it,” Nana Mama cried. “So did all those coaches.” She was right. Most of the coaches were on their feet and looking at their stopwatches, some grinning, some shaking their heads in wonder. Coach McDonald was looking at us from the infield, smiling and pumping his fists.
Down on the track, Jannie had slowed to a stop, her head thrown back, a delirious smile on her face, and her palms raised to the sky.
Chapter 111
Jannie and I had coaches coming up to us the rest of the day with offers of campus visits and mentions of scholarships. We were grateful to listen to each and every one of them, including the coach at the University of Oregon, who reminded us that he had been the first to show an interest in her when she was a freshman.
As he walked away, she said, “I don’t know what to do.”
Coach McDonald, who was also there, smiled. “Luckily, you don’t have to make any decisions today or anytime soon.”
“Thank you for flying out, Coach Mac,” she said, hugging him. “It helped.”
“Thank you for giving me the gift of watching you soar today. And we’ll talk Tuesday?”
Jannie’s eyes watered as she nodded. “Tuesday.”
He walked off.
“Can we get something to eat?” she said. “I’m starving.”
“Dr. Cross? Jannie?”
We turned to find Coach Wilson of the University of Texas walking toward us in the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. She was the only coach who had not yet approached us that day.
“The unicorn is back,” she said. She smiled and shook Jannie’s hand and mine.
Then Coach Wilson looked at me. “Jannie is a unicorn. In more ways than one. That was a very impressive win in the four-hundred today.”
“Better than the other three events,” Jannie said.
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. You didn’t win or even place in those individual field events, but you were competitive in all of them. That’s the mark of a great all-around athlete, which is what I am looking for.”
Wilson paused. “But I can’t tell you to give up the four-hundred, where you are clearly exceptional Division One talent, to chase the idea of the heptathlon, an unknown but one in which I believe you have the potential to be a world-class talent.”
Jannie puffed up her cheeks and blew out air. “I don’t know, Coach.”
“And you don’t have to,” Coach Wilson said. “But whatever path you decide to take, know that you have a full scholarship offer at the University of Texas. And may I remind you that Coach McDonald lives in town?”
Jannie smiled. “I know.”
“You’re lucky to have him on your side.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am.”
Wilson said she’d be in touch and left. Jannie wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.
“You okay?”
Jannie smiled through tears. “Of course I’m okay. It’s just, how many seventeen-year-olds get to live their dreams like this?”
“Every seventeen-year-old girl who lives in my house,” I said, and I hugged her. “I can’t tell you how much—”
“Dad!” Ali yelled, running at us from the stands.
I held up a hand and looked at Jannie. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of—”
“Dad!” Ali said.
“Ali,” I said sharply. “I am trying to tell your sister how—”
I stopped in midsentence, seeing the phone he held out in front of him and the petrified look on his face.
“It’s him, Dad,” he said. “Wickr, but I took a screenshot of it.” I took the phone, read it, and knew the M game was not over.
You are quite the little escape artist, Ali. And Jannie, the stellar track champion! Say hi to your father for me. Tell him that from where I sat, his daughter clearly ran with heart.