Dead Don't Lie

by L. R. Nicolello

He pulled up to the house, stomped on the brakes. “Evelyn, wait for me.”

  But before the car settled to a stop, she’d grabbed a set of latex gloves from her bag, thrown herself out of the car and raced toward the open front door. Marcus slammed his hand against the steering wheel. Nothing good could come out of this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EVELYN IGNORED MARCUS and ran to see Ryan and his family. She shoved down the emotions that threatened to engulf her. The panic. The fear. Now was not the time or place to lose her edge—she owed it to them to do things right. She’d seen her share of crime scenes, but this would be different. She took a deep breath and quickened her stride, slipping on the latex gloves as she went. She took the stairs to the front door two at a time and flashed her badge to the uniform standing guard, then muscled herself through the door.

  There was blood everywhere.

  Deep crimson pools stained the off-white carpet in the dining room. It splattered the hallway walls, and bloody handprints smeared the staircase railing leading upstairs. The stairs no longer looked white. Large stains marred them in an odd pattern, as if someone had thrown a basketball coated in red paint down them.

  * * *

  DEATH HIT HER like a wrecking ball. Skidding to a halt, she covered her mouth to keep the cry from escaping her throat. My God, what happened? She stood horrified, her eyes sweeping the scene.

  She glanced to the left, to the right, but her feet refused to move. She didn’t know where to go first.

  She moved to go upstairs, then she saw him.

  Ryan.

  He was slouched against the wall at the far end of the hallway. He wasn’t moving.

  “Oh, God, please, no.” Without hesitation, she ran to him. She stared down at him, her stomach heaving. He was barely recognizable, his body riddled with bullet holes. His head was down, chin resting on his right shoulder, and his arms drooped limply at his sides. His left eye was swollen shut. An angry gash split open his bottom lip. A large red stain covered the lower part of his shirt.

  Despite what she saw, she crouched down and put her fingers against the side of his throat.

  Nothing. There was nothing. No pulse. No hope that he could be saved.

  Ryan was gone.

  She hung her head, pushing against the advancing pain and the sorrow threatening to consume her. God, please, not again. She squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. Blackness swarmed the edges of her vision, eager to pull her to its waiting black pit. She dropped to her knees, cradled her head in her hands and focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. She couldn’t pass out now. With each measured breath, Evelyn shoved back the advancing darkness until it was a mere shadow at the edge of her consciousness.

  Marcus came up beside her and dropped to his knees. He caught her in his steady gaze, his eyes soft, searching. She couldn’t deal with his warmth. If she gave in to it now, she’d never recover. Evelyn shook her head. He nodded and looked past her to the kitchen, his face hardening.

  She didn’t need to go to the kitchen to know what she’d find. One of Kate’s feet, now bloodied, stuck out from the kitchen door frame, her perfectly manicured toes marred with dark stains. Evelyn bent over Ryan, her body slumped. I can’t do this, not again.

  She looked down at her gloved hands. They were covered in blood. Ryan’s blood. Her heart stuttered. She shouldn’t have touched him. A visual exam would have confirmed what she’d already known.

  Ryan was dead.

  “I just need a moment,” she whispered, reaching for Marcus’s hand.

  “You got it.”

  And that’s all she took: a moment. A moment to collect herself, set aside the pain, banish the fear, bridle the grief.

  She knew from experience that it would all be there when this was over. But for now, she pushed it aside, locked it away.

  A commotion to her right pulled at her. She opened her eyes. Officers rushed into the house and slammed to a halt. Silence engulfed the house. Evelyn rose and glanced around. She cleared her throat. All eyes were on her.

  She took a deep breath. “Listen up, everyone. This isn’t just any crime scene with unknown victims. This is Ryan, his family. My partner. They’re our own. Family. Right now, I need the best from you.” Evelyn looked from face to face, locking eyes with each of the officers in front of her. “If you can’t be here, and I mean all in, I understand. This is hard for everyone. But if you can’t, please leave now. No one will think less of—”

  She hadn’t even finished before the newest member of the force shook his head, mumbled a sorrowful apology and walked out. Watching him go stung, but she understood. She nodded, then turned to the rest of the cops. “Anyone else? It’s okay.”

  No one budged.

  “All right, then.” She pointed to the officers closest to her. “You two, upstairs. Phelan, take three guys and canvas the area. This bastard could’ve stuck around to see the show. But this isn’t a show. This is our family. And we will find the guy who did this.”

  Marcus handed her a new set of latex gloves. She yanked off the set covered in Ryan’s blood, pulled on the fresh ones and moved toward the kitchen, bracing herself for what they might find.

  Ava lay half in Kate’s arms. A single bullet hole was in her young forehead. Blood soaked the floor beneath them. Relief washed over Evelyn. Ava hadn’t suffered. Thank you, God. That little girl hadn’t suffered.

  Then Evelyn’s heart slammed to a halt. The blood in her veins turned to ice. “Stop. Everyone stop moving, now! Where’s Liam?”

  “What?” one officer asked.

  “Liam. Ryan’s little boy. He’s not here. He’s not in the kitchen.”

  The officer shrugged. “Jones did the upstairs walk-through.”

  “Find Jones. Bring him to me. Now!”

  Frantic now, panic flooded her like a tidal wave. Was he hiding? Was he hurt? Waves of grief and fury surged through her, rolling over her with each heartbeat. Blood pounded in her ears, its roar deafening.

  Jones rushed up. “Detective, we checked the upstairs level. No one was there. Both children’s beds were empty.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “I don’t know. Lemme check with Phelan. Maybe they found him outside.”

  “Go. Check in with him. I want an immediate report.”

  Marcus came up next to her.

  “Marcus, you don’t think that bastard took—”

  “No, Evelyn. Stop. Don’t go there. We’ll find him.”

  She took a deep breath. Steadied the wild dark thoughts swirling in her mind. Marcus was right. She couldn’t go there. Wouldn’t go there.

  Evelyn turned back to Kate, the closet thing she’d had to a sister. Her stomach rolled, threatening to empty its contents.

  She rubbed her temples. “Get someone from the D.A.’s office on the phone.”

  “That might take a while. It’s late. Will anyone be there?” Officer Massey asked.

  “I don’t care that it’s late. Get someone on the phone now. If you have to drag the D.A. himself out of bed, do it.”

  Bile rose into her throat as she knelt beside her friend. Evelyn knew the killer had come after Ryan’s family to show that he was more powerful and in charge. She knew it.

  Careful not to contaminate anything, Evelyn inspected Kate. There were multiple stab wounds to her back. Cuts and bruises covered her forearms and hands. Evelyn managed a tight smile. “Damn, girl, you put up a fight, didn’t you? Good for you, giving him hell.”

  She wouldn’t have expected anything less from her feisty Irish friend. But her smile vanished as she reached for one of Kate’s hands. Averting her eyes from the deep, angry, crimson gashes along her friend’s back, Evelyn focused on Kate’s fingertips. “Now, tell me, sweets, did you tear into him?”

  What a nightmare.


  “I need forensics in here,” she called down the hall as she stood.

  A young officer scurried into the kitchen.

  “Can you check her now?” Evelyn asked, pointing to Kate.

  He nodded and knelt. She watched him study Kate’s fingertips with one goal: to find human skin, hair, blood, something, anything, under her nails. But deep cuts tore at the soft flesh of each fingertip.

  He looked up and shook his head. “There’s nothing here but bloody pulps, Detective. It looks like whoever did this took a knife and removed any evidence.”

  Evelyn’s blood boiled. The killer was smart. She straightened up. But she was smarter.

  “Anything yet, Massey?” she asked the officer, who was on his cell.

  He looked over his shoulder and shook his head, clearly irritated.

  Another officer appeared beside her. “Umm, Detective Davis?”

  “Yes, Stevenson, what is it?”

  Her eyes darted past him, back to Massey huddled in the corner, phone lodged between his shoulder and ear. Tearing her eyes back to the officer next to her, she waited for him to answer her.

  “I think you need to see this.”

  “See what, Stevenson? Spit it out,” she snapped. She said it more sharply than she’d intended to, but her nerves were raw, her filter gone.

  Cheeks flushed, he held out an evidence bag.

  She snatched it from his extended hand and read the crudely scrawled note inside.

  Don’t underestimate me, Evelyn. This one’s on you.

  She spun around and vomited into the kitchen sink.

  The room spun. She gripped the sink’s edge to keep from sliding to the floor with the note clenched in her hand. The scrawled words tore at her, ripped through the softest parts of her, each word an angry, painful thrust.

  This hellish nightmare couldn’t be her fault. Could it? Could the horrible, violent deaths of the people she loved—of the only people she called family—be her fault? Please, please don’t let it be true. Her stomach heaved again as the darkness advanced, and her knees buckled beneath her. She tightened her hold on the cool black granite countertop.

  A soft pressure on the small of her back brought her back to the present. She lifted her head and was captured by Marcus’s strong, concerned face.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Evelyn held his gaze, drank in its unwavering strength. She never wanted to let go of him, never wanted to be away from that strength. The thought warmed and terrified her all at once. She forced herself to glance away. She had a job to do.

  Hand shaking, she gave him the evidence bag and turned to the young officer, managing a small comforting smile. “Thank you, Stevenson. Can you show me where you found that note?”

  He nodded and motioned toward the hall.

  Marcus read the note. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Kessler hollered, storming in. “Moretti, get her out of here. Now!”

  “What? No! Captain, I need to be here. He’s my partner. Those kids and his wife, they were the closest thing I had to a family.”

  Kessler shook his head. “That’s exactly why you can’t be here.”

  “Sir, you need to see this.” Marcus handed the evidence bag to him.

  Kessler scanned the contents. His face blanched. He looked at Evelyn.

  Tilting her chin, she stared back at the captain. Don’t send me away, please.

  “She needs to be in protective custody,” Marcus said.

  “No. Absolutely not.” Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m fine.”

  “I agree,” Kessler said to Marcus as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’ll speak with the chief to set it up. Starting immediately.”

  “That’s not necessary. She can stay with me. No one knows where I live. It’s a sublet.”

  Chief Diaz stormed into the house and slammed to a halt. He glanced between Kessler and Evelyn, his face darkening. “What’s she doing here? Kessler, I told you to keep her out of here.”

  Marcus stepped in. “I’m taking her to my place now, sir. For all practical purposes, it’s as good as any safe house we can get.”

  The color in the Diaz’s face drained. “Safe house? Kessler. Davis. What is going on?”

  Kessler wordlessly handed the evidence bag to Diaz. He scanned the note. A string of colorful, deadly words flew out of his mouth. Eyes hard, he looked at Evelyn.

  “I’m fine, really,” she said.

  “Evelyn, no one here is questioning your ability,” Diaz said. “But you’re going with Agent Moretti.”

  “Sir, that’s not necessary. I said I’m fine.”

  Who was she kidding? She wasn’t fine. But she needed to be here.

  “This isn’t a suggestion, Detective Davis. This is an order,” Diaz said in an authoritative voice. She couldn’t remember him ever using that tone with her before. That alone snapped her back to reality. The painful, soul-shattering reality that more people she loved had been ripped from her life. Tears flooded her eyes. She bit her lip to keep them at bay, then squared her shoulders.

  “You’ll stay at Agent Moretti’s house until further notice. You won’t leave his property until I’ve given the order. From this moment forward, I want you to all but disappear until we know more of what we’re dealing with. You’re my responsibility, and I won’t have you putting yourself in harm’s way. Do I make myself clear, Detective?”

  Her jaw dropped. Had he just put her on house arrest? She suddenly felt very tired. As in, she might just slump onto the tile floor in front of all her colleagues, curl up and drift off into a deep, dark, endless sleep.

  Before she could respond, Diaz turned and stepped close to Marcus’s face. “As for you...I’m holding you fully responsible for the well-being of my officer. Anything happens to her, and I mean anything—a hangnail, a stubbed toe, anything—and you’ll be answering directly to me. Believe me, you don’t want to go there. Do you understand, Special Agent Moretti?”

  Despite her current hell, a small smile crept onto Evelyn’s face at the chief’s fierce protection of her. Up until recently, he and Ryan were the only ones who knew her whole story, yet they never treated her differently, never coddled her. Her heart constricted as she thought about Ryan, and how much she already missed him.

  “Chief.” Her voice sounded strange, quiet, meek.

  All three men turned to her, eyes filled with unspoken grief.

  “I’ll go with Moretti, but I need to be part of the team that finds this guy. And I need to find Liam. Please.” She held her breath as the chief struggled with her request.

  She was too close to the case, too emotionally involved. Emotions got people killed. But, hopefully, the chief wouldn’t deny her request, her need to be in the thick of things, her need to put this asshole away for good. Would he? How could Diaz, Kessler or Marcus argue with such a request? Chief Diaz sighed, then rubbed his hand over his face.

  “Fine.” He grimaced slightly. “Against my better judgment, I’ll allow it. But here are my conditions—you stay behind the scenes, and no one other than these two men are to know about this.”

  How could she possibly stay on the case if she couldn’t be seen by anyone?

  “I’m not kidding. Nothing public, Evelyn. You follow Agent Moretti’s orders without hesitation. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Diaz put two fingers between his teeth and whistled. All movement stopped. All noise halted. Every eye in the home turned to face him. “Listen up, people. Evelyn is going to give you a description of Ryan’s son. Take notes. I want every available officer out there searching for him. He’s our number-one priority until he’s found.”

  Evelyn took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Liam is sixteen months old. He
has jet-black curls, blue eyes and dimples in both cheeks when he smiles.” Her voice cracked. Marcus stepped close and put his hand on the small of her back. She cleared her throat. “He’s about twenty-five pounds and roughly two and a half feet tall.”

  With every word she uttered, her heart broke all over again. She shouldn’t be reciting Liam’s stats to all these officers solemnly staring back at her. She should be cuddling him to her chest, assuring Ryan’s sweet baby boy that everything was going to be all right.

  That he would be all right.

  But she couldn’t.

  And that pissed her off and broke her, all at once.

  She yanked out her phone and pulled up her screensaver. The sight of Liam and Ava grinning up at her hardened Evelyn’s resolve. She held up her phone. “Here is a recent photo of Liam. I’ll send it to Captain Kessler and have him distribute it to everyone.”

  She paused for a moment, struggling to stay strong. “He’s just a baby. We need to find him.”

  Diaz put his hand on Evelyn’s shoulder and squeezed. “We will have all of SPD out looking for Liam. You have my word.”

  She bit her lip, fought to keep her composure. “Thank you, sir.”

  “But hear me, Evelyn. If for one second I think you’re endangering yourself or this investigation, I won’t hesitate to yank you from it so hard that your head will spin. Go. Now.”

  Diaz looked at Marcus. “Get her out of here. I’ll be in touch.”

  With a curt nod, Marcus took Evelyn by the elbow and led her away. Away from the house, the blood, the death, the horror of what lay behind the walls.

  She let him direct her. He opened the car door and held it for her. She stopped to look back at the house that had once held so many beautiful memories. Tremors tore down her spine. Her lips quivered.

  “Evelyn,” Marcus said softly. “Sweetheart, we need to go.”

  Tearing her gaze from the house, she let him help her into the car. She stared straight ahead, eyes focused on nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  MARCUS RAN HIS finger along the door seam of his penthouse apartment and checked the seal he’d installed before leaving that morning. Why did that feel like a million years ago? How could so much happen in such a short time?