The Forgotten: Ch. 8 -- Adrian


“What can you tell me about Carrie Brooks?”

It was late, probably too late for anyone to be remotely of any assistance, and yet Adrian found himself demanding just that from the San Francisco Police Department. He had spent the better half of the day trying to find out the hidden meaning behind Carrie’s parting statement, but was left without a clue. 

After calling the upstate department half a dozen times without getting any proper assistance, Adrian had decided it would be worth the drive to demand the answers he was looking for in person. They couldn’t well tell him nobody was available to talk when he was standing right in front of them.

“Who?” the tired Detective asked.

“Carrie Brooks? Police consultant? From Texas?”

The Detective gave Adrian a blank look. Adrian sighed. “She’s related to Katelyn Tomas. She’s the twin.”

“Katelyn Tomas? You’re still working on that? I heard it was open and shut.”

Adrian ignored the condescending tone. He was frustrated. He needed answers. Now. He was determined not to apologize and beg for Carrie’s help.

“Do you have any information or not?” Adrian asked impatiently.

The detective shook his head. “I can’t say that I do. She a suspect?”

“What about Katelyn Tomas? Anything on her?”

“That depends. Ms. Tomas has a record cleaner than I do, but she has about three dozen fans or so we’ve had to pick up recently.”


“Trespassing. Disturbing the peace. Petty crimes, really. There’s been a lot of protesting since the arrest.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you have nothing on her twin, Carrie. Carrie Brooks? Nothing at all?”

“Positive. Didn’t even know she had a twin.”

Great, Adrian thought, but he smiled and uttered a terse “thanks” before he walked briskly back out the door. As he began the long drive back to his office, his mind raced. 

Assuming Carrie hadn’t been trying to mislead him, his first theory had been that she had worked a case for the SFPD and was prompting Adrian to seek a recommendation of her trustworthiness, but clearly that theory could be dismissed. She’d sounded so confident, but the SFPD didn’t even know she existed.

That led him to his next theory: Katelyn had gotten herself into trouble of some sort that the SFPD would have on record. However, that obviously wasn’t the case either.

Which led him back to his original theory: Carrie had simply sent him on a wild goose chase. 

His hands tightened around his steering wheel as he imagined her confident smirk. This had been part of her plan all along, hadn’t it? Well, good for her. She’d succeeded in wasting almost a full day of his time. 

It wouldn’t happen again. He never made the same mistake twice. And now, he was even more motivated to put her and her sister behind bars. No matter what it took.

But then he got the call.

“I hate to tell you this after you just left, but uh, it appears we might have something for you after all.”

It was the San Francisco detective Adrian had spoken to.

“About Carrie Brooks?” Adrian asked.

“Well, no. It’s about Katelyn.”

“What about her?”

“Well, apparently a maid at one of the local dumps advertising as a cheap motel was paid half a mil to clean up a pool of blood the budding pop princess had left behind. Turns out, she’d just had a kid. Not surprising, considering the location. Happens all the time in these shitholes. Anyway, apparently the girl was quite upset. Said she was clawing at the maid, screaming for her kid, begging her to save her son from him.”


“I’m getting there.” The detective sounded annoyed. Adrian waited for him to continue. “Anyway, in exchange for the money, the maid signed an NDA. But she came clean a couple days ago after the arrest. Thought it might help the investigation. We thought she was just another wackjob fan, but she still had the document. It was drawn up by TGIF Records, and signed by Mr. Friday himself.”


“Twenty years ago. 1996.”

“What month was it signed?”

“You really need to learn some patience, you know that? I’m doing you a favor here.” Adrian didn’t respond. The detective sighed. “It looks like it was signed in December. Twelve-oh-two-ninety-six. I’ll fax the documents to your office. That help?”

“Yeah, thanks for the help.”

Adrian hung up before the detective could respond. So that’s what Carrie had knowledge of that he didn’t. Katelyn had a son. With William Friday? Her agent and producer? He was twice her age when they worked together. What a jackass. 

Is that why she changed labels the following year? Her album was released in November of ’96, and was breaking music records by the summer of ’97. He figured she must have had several opportunities open up, and assumed she had taken the offer with the most money. Who wouldn’t? 

But now he figured she probably took the first one that got her away from the sick fuck who knocked her up, took her child, and left her bleeding in a sleazy motel. 

William Friday was lucky his drug habit had taken him before Adrian could get his hands on him now. He would not have played nice during the interrogation. 

But with William Friday gone, he was left with another question to answer. 

What happened to the kid?

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