Winter's Secret

by Mary Stone

  As she watched, the remaining color drained from the detective’s face. The shadows beneath his eyes were so pronounced, he looked as if he’d just risen from the dead. “How…how did you know that?”

  The lawyer flashed Johansson an incredulous glance. “Tony, you don’t have to talk to them.”

  Winter ignored the man. She ignored how much of her secret she was giving away with all these insights. She didn’t let her glare waver from Tony Johansson. “You didn’t know she was pregnant, did you? You didn’t know until the cops found her body six months later. Then, you spent a week drinking yourself into a stupor every night because you couldn’t get her face out of your head.”

  Shock making his mouth grow slack, Johansson shoved his lawyer’s hand off his arm. “You can’t know that. It’s not possible. Who…who the hell are you?”

  She’d have to deal with the fallout of this little performance later, she knew. “You thought the cops wouldn’t be able to identify her body if you cut off her hands and her head, didn’t you? The next best thing to incineration, isn’t that what Ivan said? But you didn’t know about her surgeries. She’d been hit by a car when she was younger, and all the pins and the steel rods in her legs were easy enough to trace back to her. Then, it was on the news, and that’s when you found out that she was pregnant.”

  Where he’d been a flurry of frantic movement just a moment before, Johansson now seemed carved from stone. “This is impossible. She was in the water for weeks, months before they found her.”

  Thorton grasped at his client’s shoulder. “Tony—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Mark!” Johansson turned his glare to the lawyer. “Shut the fuck up, or just get out, all right?”

  Now, Mark Thorton looked pale too.

  Winter dabbed at her nose again. “You’ve got a conscience, don’t you, Detective? Earlier today, you tried to talk Alek out of…of.” She had to pause to swallow down a twinge of rage. “You tried to talk him out of going after Noah Dalton, didn’t you?”

  Bobby’s head snapped around, his eyes wide. In spite of the expression of shock, he didn’t speak.

  “There’s no way.” Johansson’s voice was scarcely above a whisper. “There’s no way you could know that.”

  “But here we are.” She narrowed her eyes. “You tried to talk Alek out of kidnapping Noah Dalton’s…what? His friend, his girlfriend? Seemed like Alek was pretty excited about that, about having that ‘pretty redhead’ all to himself for a couple days.”

  In the silence that ensued, Winter thought Tony Johansson might either faint or throw up. She let the unsettling moment drag on until she was satisfied that the man would remain conscious when she spoke again.

  “You’ve got a conscience, Tony. I don’t think you would’ve brought Agent Hansford to Alek that night if you’d known who he was. You were the one who told Sergei to check his pulse, weren’t you? And right now, we’re looking for Natalie Falkner and her husband, Jonathan. I know you know where they are, and I hope you’ve figured out that you can’t hide anything from me, so there’s no point in denying it. Tell us where they are, and we’ll make sure you sit down with the US Attorney to work out a deal on that death sentence my partner mentioned.”

  The shadows moved along his throat as he swallowed repeatedly.

  “If you don’t tell us where they are, Natalie is going to die.” Winter suspected the additional pressure was unnecessary, but she wanted to make sure Johansson knew what the hell he’d done.

  She also had a sinking feeling they were too late, but she let the seconds of disquieting silence drag on.

  Jaw clenched, Johansson’s eyes flicked up to hers.

  “Okay. I’ll help you. Just…just get to her. Make sure she’s safe from that fucking psychopath. I don’t want more blood on my hands.”

  Despite her inexplicable knowledge to the contrary, Winter nodded and glanced at the clock.

  Ten after nine.

  Shit.

  She was sure they were too late, but they had to try.

  The tactical team—the same group of men who had accompanied Winter and Bobby to execute the search warrant on Tony Johansson’s house earlier that day—had been ready to leave within fifteen minutes of the interview’s conclusion. This time, the leader, Agent Bevins, advised Winter and Bobby that they would follow the team to make sure each room had been thoroughly swept and cleared.

  She and Bobby had both accepted M4 rifles almost identical to those used by the tactical unit. Coupled with their black Kevlar, they could almost pass for members of the elite squad.

  Winter nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand came down on her shoulder. She whirled around and stared into familiar green eyes.

  “Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Winter was so glad to see Noah that she nearly flung herself into his arms. She settled on poking a finger in his chest, then immediately regretted it when she only poked the tactical gear.

  “How did you get here?”

  “Bicycle,” he deadpanned, looking serious as a monk. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he smiled. “Got lucky with a late flight.”

  She was glad he was here, but…

  “Are you sure you should be here?” she asked, concern tightening her shoulders. “We don’t know what we’ll find in there.” She nodded at the warehouse. “Natalie might be…”

  She didn’t finish. She didn’t think “might be” was correct, and she didn’t want to lie to him or get his hopes up.

  He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I need to be here. No matter what.”

  Before they could talk further, it was time to go in. The time to worry was over. It was time to face reality.

  As they made their way to each room after the agents called out that it was clear, Winter half-expected to be met with a veritable army of Russian gangsters.

  The setting was conducive to a bloody conflict. The entire warehouse looked like it had been ripped straight from the set of a horror film. The doors were rusted, the concrete floor was worn and dirty, and more windows were shattered than remained intact.

  As they neared the far end of the building, a familiar stench drifted on the stale air.

  It was the sickening scent of decay. The same smell that had greeted her in Harrisonburg a week ago.

  But today, she doubted they’d be lucky enough to find a pile of headless rats.

  Swallowing against the cloying scent, Winter glanced to Bobby. “Someone died in here, didn’t they?”

  His expression was as grim as she’d ever seen when he nodded. Noah didn’t nod, but he looked equally grim.

  A flicker of movement at the end of the hall jerked her attention to where Agent Bevins waved vehemently. “We found her.”

  Lowering the rifle to carry it with one hand, they each increased their steady walk to a jog. With each passing step, the smell of death grew stronger.

  A ray of sickly light spilled out onto the dingy floor, and when Winter stepped into the illumination, she almost wished she hadn’t.

  “She’s alive,” Bevins said. “But he’s been dead for at least a couple days.”

  Winter’s stomach turned as her eyes fell on the man crumpled in a heap at the opposite end of the room as Natalie. His skin was pallid, and even the blood that stained his abdomen had darkened to a hue closer to brown than red.

  When she jerked her eyes away from the man’s body, the sight of Natalie Falkner wasn’t much better.

  In all the photos Winter had seen of Natalie, her skin had glowed with a healthy tan. She’d always looked energetic and put together, almost like she was one of those online fitness and health personalities.

  Now, however, she stood on death’s doorstep.

  Winter had to do a double take. At first, she didn’t even think the woman crumpled on the dusty concrete was Natalie Falkner.

  Her dark hair was matted to the sides of her face with sweat and blood. Sweat even glistened on her closed eyelids. Any of her meticulously a
pplied eyeliner had been smudged off days ago, and her skin was pale as death.

  One of the agents from the tactical team knelt at her side, pressing a white towel to the center of Natalie’s abdomen. Well, the towel had been white, but now it was stained with crimson as the agent tried in vain to stem the bleeding from the wound he couldn’t close. It was quickly becoming the same color as the towel wrapped around the woman’s hand.

  Winter had seen gruesome crime scenes, but she’d never seen anything like this.

  She hardly heard Bevins as he raised the radio to request an ambulance and a team of paramedics. All she could do was watch Noah kneel next to his sister.

  37

  Even under the circumstances, Noah’s half-sister still looked familiar to him. Beyond the mask of gore, she looked very much like the girl he’d known so many years ago.

  Back then, her mouth was so often twisted in a sneer. She’d been a brat and had reveled in her position of princess of her daddy’s house.

  He remembered her cruel words, to both him and Lucy.

  He remembered her lies.

  But now…none of that mattered.

  Now, he’d never get the chance to learn if she’d grown into a person he might actually like.

  Now, he’d never get to ask why she’d been so intent on being so shitty to them. What had motivated her. Was it true bitchiness or was it fear?

  Because now…his half-sister was barely clinging to life. And if the expression on the people’s faces around him was any indication, she didn’t have long.

  “Natalie.” The word was cracked and raw from an emotion he didn’t expect. “It’s me. Noah. Your brother.”

  Unless he was mistaken, her eyelashes flickered a little.

  A hand came down on his shoulder, and he didn’t even need to look to see who it was. He felt Winter’s warmth. Her comfort. Her support. Maybe something more.

  Very carefully, he levered an arm under Natalie’s head and pulled her up until she was lying in his arms.

  Not all of their visits had been terrible, he remembered. It was almost like a black veil of bad times had been laid over the good. But looking in Natalie’s face, he smiled a bittersweet smile at the memories.

  “Remember when we played Pictionary and you thought the car I’d drawn was a dick?”

  God, they’d laughed as only children could each time a body part was a topic of discussion.

  “And what had we been thinking when we filled that stupid balloon with deodorant spray, put it in a bucket and lit it on fire.” He smiled. “It took months for my eyebrows to grow back.”

  She groaned, the lids flickering again. He willed her to open them, then smiled when they did.

  “No…ah.” His name was just a whisper of breath.

  “Yeah, Nat, it’s me. Hang in there, okay? We’ve got help on the way.”

  “Ja…Jon.”

  He didn’t allow himself to glance at the decaying man on the other side of the room.

  “We’re going to take care of him too, okay? Don’t worry about anything except fighting, you hear me?”

  He remembered the times they danced in the living room.

  He remembered the food fight that had been worth getting grounded.

  Yeah…they’d had a few good times tossed in with the bad.

  “D-d-dad?”

  Anger was like a fist around his heart. Their bastard of a father was the cause of all of this.

  “He’s fine. He’s been worried about you. You need to get better so you can kick his ass.”

  Her pale tongue darted out to lick at her dry lips. “Lo…lo…love. I…”

  Noah waited for her to finish. Watched her take in a shuddering breath.

  Then…nothing.

  He waited a minute. Longer.

  There, on the floor of a dirty warehouse, the sister he barely knew grew still as her heart beat its last.

  He shouldn’t have felt anything. He knew that he shouldn’t. They were strangers. She was just another victim.

  But he did. An ache of anger and grief that hit him unexpectedly.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling Natalie against his chest.

  For what, he wasn’t sure.

  Noah didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know what had compelled him to seek out Eric to personally deliver the news of Natalie’s passing, but here he was.

  He’d held Winter’s hand on the flight, and she’d let him, her head resting on his arm.

  She’d given him strength to do what he needed—no, had been driven—to do next.

  For the past four hours, Eric had been tucked away in an interview room in the heart of the Richmond field office. He’d given a full, detailed statement to Miguel Vasquez.

  Not long afterwards, he’d been read his rights and officially arrested. Vasquez would transfer him to a holding cell for the rest of the night. Then, at the start of the next business day, Eric would start down the well-traveled path of the criminal justice system.

  With a deep breath to steady himself, Noah smiled at Winter, who leaned on the wall before he shoved open the door to the interview room. Eric’s weary gaze jerked over to the doorway at the sudden disturbance.

  “Did you find her?”

  Noah expected to see a glimmer of naïve hope in his eyes, but in its place was only misery. Maybe Eric wasn’t as stupid as Noah had initially assumed.

  “Yeah.” He pulled out a chair and dropped down to sit with a long sigh. All the fight had gone out of him. Sure, he could be angry, but what good would that do? “We found her.”

  Though the color drained from Eric’s cheeks, his expression changed little.

  He’d been prepared for the news.

  He’d finally learned who he had been dealing with. Finally learned the extent of the Russians’ callousness. Finally recognized just how foolish he’d been.

  Reluctantly, Noah met Eric’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but she didn’t make it.”

  The overhead fluorescence glinted off the first tear as it streaked down Eric’s bearded face.

  For the first time in his life, Noah felt a twinge of sympathy for the man.

  In a week, he’d lost virtually everything important in his life. His daughter, his son-in-law, his job, his freedom, and possibly even his marriage.

  All it took was one bad decision, and Eric had been left with nothing.

  As Bree settled into her spot on the couch, she blew on the hot cup of tea. To Bree’s side, Shelby reached out to touch her shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Shelby asked.

  “They got the guys.” Bree was surprised her voice didn’t crack. In the past thirty minutes, ever since she’d gotten the call from Max Osbourne himself to advise that the suspects involved in Drew’s murder were in federal custody, she’d been assailed by a host of feelings she could only assume she’d kept at bay for the last few days.

  Shelby nodded. “Good. I hope they rot.”

  Bree took a tentative sip from the mug. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. It’s not like we saw one another all the time, but I knew he was always there, you know. I’d check Facebook or whatever, and there’d be pictures of him and his wife and daughter.”

  “Drew was a low-maintenance friend.” Shelby squeezed her shoulder and offered a wistful smile.

  With a shaky sigh, Bree nodded. “Yeah. He was. I just hope Amelia and Emma are doing okay.”

  Shelby turned to face her more fully. “Why don’t we go visit with them? We can each take a little time off work and make sure they’re doing okay.”

  Bree’s sinuses burned at the thought, but she smiled as tears filled her eyes. “That’s a good idea. Yeah, let’s do that. I’ll talk to Max about it when I’m back in the office next.”

  She knew there was nothing she or Shelby could do to ease the pain of Drew’s passing for Amelia and her daughter, but the least they could do was remind the pair that they weren’t alone.

  And maybe, somewhere along the way, Bree wouldn’t feel
so alone, either.

  38

  After Autumn dropped her off at her apartment, all Winter wanted to do was flop facefirst onto her bed and sleep for the next week. She estimated that she’d managed about three and a half hours of sleep the night before—a far cry from the state of hibernation she had hoped to achieve.

  But now that she was home, her thoughts weren’t any less scattered. The case was behind them now. Alek faced a life sentence with no possibility for parole, Sergei had been transferred to a different state with his family, and Tony Johansson was cooperating with the US Attorney in their pursuit to add more to the pending RICO case.

  Though he’d been arrested, Winter doubted Eric Dalton would serve much, if any, jail time. The man had lost enough already, anyway. Winter still thought the man was a colossal asshole, but she couldn’t help the twinge of sympathy she felt when her thoughts drifted to what had happened to his family.

  Even now, the Dalton family wasn’t out of the figurative woods. Like Sergei, Eric would be moved to a different part of the country to keep him out of the Russians’ crosshairs. His wife and son would be provided with new identities and shipped off to another state where they’d start their lives from scratch. Winter still didn’t know if Eric would be in the same location as his wife and son or not.

  But when it was all said and done, three people had lost their lives because of one man’s poor decision.

  On the drive back to her apartment, Winter had told Autumn to be especially cautious in the coming weeks.

  Autumn was already paranoid enough, but Winter couldn’t keep the information from her friend. As much as she doubted the Russians would have a reason to seek Autumn out, she wasn’t about to leave her friend’s welfare to chance.

  With a groan, Winter flopped onto her back. She’d spent another full day at the Baltimore office, and now, at ten-thirty, she was finally home. And, of course, she had to go to work tomorrow.