Sins of the Father

This story is by Scarlett Boleyn and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.

As soon as they returned, sweating and panting from their morning run, she saw it. Stark white against the black wrought iron art déco patterning of the screen door. A large envelope with her previous name scrawled across it.

Mischka reached it first–she sniffed it and pawed it, then grabbed it in her massive mouth.

‘No Mischka! Drop!’

The dog eyed Chloe, dropped it at her feet, and then scratched at the door, eager for a drink. It swung open even though Chloe was sure she’d locked it as they left.

Mischka sniffed the air, growled, and then raced to her water bowl.

‘No Mischka! Wait!’

Chloe snatched it before she could drink and threw it down the sink. Grabbing a clean bowl, she filled it with fresh water and gave it to the thirsty dog.

‘Here girl.’ She ran her hand through the thick fur and kissed her nose.

Although she knew that Mischka would have been frantic if someone was still in the house, Chloe went through every room, checking, just in case. She’d been nervy since the anonymous card had arrived at work three days ago. Her name, Dr Chloe Bentley, was on the envelope, but the card inside read Happy Birthday Rose.

Only after she’d searched the entire house, checked her computer and her secret compartment in the bookcase, did she tip the envelope’s contents onto the table. There were dozens of photos, all black and white, some grainy, some dog-eared and well handled, some freshly printed, along with a flutter of dried red petals… rose petals… fragrant and heady…

When she counted, there were 38, one for every year of her life. In most, she was alone, but all depicted significant events captured by the lens.

Pete in uniform carrying her from the burning house at 15.

Being arrested at 17.

Her graduation at 20.

Her first post- doc at 23.

The various awards in later years.

The one that threw her though showed her and Seb in Spain the day they got engaged. Happy, oblivious. A week before his murder.

There were only four people who knew her past. Pete, her father, Seb for an instant, and the social worker on the case 22 years ago. Pete, she’d trust with her life; and the social worker, if she was still alive, wouldn’t have a motive. Which left her father.

He’d conveniently disappeared after deliberately starting the fire that killed her mother and almost her, 22 years ago. All part of his latest scam and get-out-of-jail free plan. What kind of person does that?

That’s when she was dragged, screaming, from a burning house and went into witness protection. Leaving behind her life, her friends, taking only memories and a broken heart with her.

And Rose became Chloe.

But somehow he’d still found her.

A shiver ran down her spine. A whispered thought took shape.

Maybe he’d always known where she was…?

She could never quite purge the memory of his persona – his arrogance, his laugh, a cackle like a hyena, just as she couldn’t purge her genes. Knowing she shared the DNA of a heartless killer tormented her.

Glancing at the clock, she decided to take Mischka to doggy day-care for the day. Whilst normally she only used the service when she was working away, she couldn’t leave her home alone today. Not after this…

She held her breath while the center confirmed they had a spot for her.

After adjusting the security system to pick up the slightest movement, she switched to fully armed mode.

As she drove Mischka to the center, she called Pete. She wanted his take on it.

Voicemail? 

She left a brief cryptic message, as was their custom.

‘Pete, call me. More roses than I can deal with.’

She grabbed a coffee at the cafe on the ground floor before heading up to her office in the glass lift. Looking down, she saw a courier leaving the building.

Her receptionist, Sam, was already there when she arrived.

‘Dr Bentley, there’s a delivery for you. And your 9am just cancelled.’

An enormous bouquet of roses assaulted her senses as she entered her office. The sight and smell were overpowering. As was the implication.

‘Did you let the courier put it in here?’ She felt her heart beat brutally in her chest.

‘I have confidential files… did he…’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ Sam went back to texting her boyfriend.

Chloe clicked her computer to life and checked the CCTV – he’d come in, looked around, moved a few files to accommodate the bouquet. He’d walked to the wall where her credentials hung and looked closely at them. Nodded, then walked out.

False alarm.

Wait, the roses! Who are they from?

The card embedded in the center simply read ‘To Rose, did you really think I’d forget you.’

Hand on her heart she stared at the screen and willed Pete to call.

Never in all the years she’d known him had she been so glad to see his name flash on her phone. Except for that one other time…

Her hand trembled as she hit answer.

‘He’s back, Pete.’

‘Who’s back?’

‘My f-f-father.’ She choked on her tears. They ran down her face, hot and bitter, and mucus made her voice muffled.

‘What… Chloe, stop, tell me what’s happened.’

She heard muffled voices from the station in the background, along with heavy footfall. He was on the move.

‘Meet me at Rico’s, 10 minutes.’

He was waiting with two coffees when she stumbled in.

Slowly, patiently, with his detective persona rolling, he extracted the information from her, holding her hand in his, just as he used to when she was a lost teenager, struggling in foster care.

She’d never understood – why. Why he’d watched over her, like a self-appointed guardian angel, since the day he’d carried her from the burning house, as she tried to drag out her dead mother. Before that day, he’d been a stranger. He just happened to be in the area on the beat when the call came in about the fire. He and his partner beat the fire brigade to the scene. He’d saved her.

She’d never even asked why. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford to question.

Aside from Pete, she had no-one. Not really.

After he left, she re-grouped, as was her MO. She saw a business card on the floor that Pete must have dropped as he’d paid. Black and gold, glitzy – some new restaurant, no doubt. Without looking at it, she tossed it into her purse, to return later. By the time she entered the office for her 11am appointment, she was composed.

She had to be.

She was Dr Bentley. Her clients depended on her.

The day passed on autopilot.

Ana, her mysterious, heavily accented gym partner, rang to confirm their plans for the evening.

‘So darling, where do we go to celebrate?’

‘I just need to check on Mischka – give me a minute.’

‘Ah, the little bear, of course.’

Chloe checked in with the dog centre, confirming that she’d collect Mischka after work the next day.

Then she remembered the card Pete had dropped.

‘Heard of Luxe?’

‘I’ll pick you up. 7pm. Wear your best dress, darling.’

That told Chloe it was the latest hotspot. Strange Pete had that card.

There was never a need to wait in queues when you were with Ana. Even without a reservation, they sat at the backlit marble bar at Luxe by 7:15, sipping Moet. Relaxing, letting go of the day.

That’s when she heard it – his hyena laugh. She moved towards it, drawn magnetically to the spine-tingling sound.

A table of three men… her father, the rose courier from her CCTV, and… her heart missed a beat… Pete.

Ana was at her elbow. She knew only Pete, but her radar picked up on Chloe’s mood. She shrugged and led Chloe back to the bar.

‘We finish our champagne, and we watch. Then we decide the next move.’

The men left separately, her father first. Minutes later, the wail of a siren cut through the chill-out music in the bar.

The next morning, she was asked to ID a man believed to be her father. Apparently, she was named as his next of kin.

Pete was there in his official capacity. CI Peters.

She asked to see his records. Pete nodded approval to the mortician.

Death from multiple injuries sustained in a hit and run.

End-stage Kidney Failure – ah, that’s why he’d made contact. He’d expected her to donate!

Blood type AB. Impossible. She was O. 

Unless… 

‘You weren’t related after all.’ Pete’s voice pierced her thoughts.

Relief flooded through Chloe’s body.

‘You knew him. How?’ Her voice was icy.

‘Current criminal investigation. Covert op.’

‘And the rose courier?’

‘Part of your father’s crew. We arrested him this morning.’

After a long silence, Pete spoke again.

‘Maybe it’s time to bury the past – truths and lies.’

Biting her lip, Chloe nodded.