Dead Don't Lie

by L. R. Nicolello

  Marcus pulled up short. A spark flickered in his chest as he turned and grinned at Derek. His brother stared back at him, brows pinched together in a silent question.

  “You sure? I need some good news here, Sanchez.”

  “Yes, sir. Kessler had us double-check before I was cleared to call you.”

  “Does it match anything in our system?”

  “A match hasn’t popped yet, but we’re still running it through all available databases.”

  Marcus nodded. “Okay, fine. Keep me posted. And Officer Sanchez? Do not, under any circumstances, contact Detective Davis about this. All updates on Liam come directly to me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Great. Excellent. Let me know when anything pops. Also, send a copy of the print to my email now. Thanks.” Marcus pocketed his phone.

  “We caught a break. Finally. That bastard left a partial at the scene.”

  Derek whistled, low and slow. “He’s getting sloppy. That last kill was a knee-jerk reaction, not something planned.”

  “I know.” Marcus nodded. “I hate the circumstances around it, but we really needed this.”

  “Marcus, I get that she’s locked herself away, but she needs to know. You have to tell her.”

  “What she needs right now is space to breathe,” Marcus said. “You haven’t seen her. Last night, she held her partner in her arms and saw her best friend sliced to pieces. She’s a complete wreck.”

  “Fair enough. That’s normal. I’d be concerned if she weren’t a wreck. But she could very well be the last piece of the puzzle. There might be something sealed inside her head that’ll tip the scales in our favor.”

  “She needs time.”

  “We don’t have time. And besides—she can’t stay holed up in there forever.”

  Marcus groaned. “I know that.”

  “You need to get her ou—”

  Marcus blew out a frustrated breath. “Derek. I know. I’ll tell her—”

  “Tell me what?” a familiar female voice asked.

  Both men looked up. Evelyn stood where the hallway met the open kitchen. Still beautiful and doll-like, despite the fatigue and sadness, hope shone brightly in her eyes. She’d pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head and was still only wearing Marcus’s large shirt.

  Derek’s eyebrows arched. He threw a quick glance at his brother. Marcus ignored him.

  Confusion washed over her face. “Who’s this? And what did you need to tell me?”

  “Evelyn.” Marcus went to her. “Can I get you anything? I—”

  She raised her hand to stop Marcus. “I heard your phone ring. Was that news on Liam?”

  “Yes and no. They’re still searching, but they haven’t found him. Yet.”

  Tears sprung to her eyes.

  “I should be out there hunting for him.” She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand.

  He wished they could have this conversation elsewhere, wanting to give them privacy. Marcus felt the need to protect her, shelter her. He took a step toward her.

  “Not going to happen, Ev.”

  He saw her eyes flash. Good. At least there was still some fight in her. At least he hadn’t lost her yet.

  “So while Liam is out there, somewhere, alone and scared, I’m a prisoner here. Great. Thanks.”

  She turned, walked down the hall and slammed the bedroom door.

  Marcus glanced at Derek. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve never... She’s never... Sorry, man.”

  Derek shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m not. It’s a typical reaction, really. Could you imagine if it were you who was in here on 24/7 watch, unable to do the very thing that has kept you going for so many years? Wouldn’t you be angry and frustrated? I would be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  EVERY CELL IN Evelyn’s body was on fire, burning her from the inside out. Grief and fear played tug-of-war with her mind. Agitated, she paced the room like a caged animal. She should be out there looking for Liam, not holed up in here. Glancing around, she searched for an escape, then halted. Escape? What the hell was she thinking?

  Marcus wasn’t keeping her a prisoner. He was trying to help her, throwing her a lifeline.

  All she needed to do was reach out and grab it.

  She had a job to do and refused to let that monster shackle her, no matter how much it hurt. She’d powered through the debilitating grief before, and she’d do it again. Especially with Liam’s life on the line.

  It was time to finally voice the nagging thought that had pounded the recesses of her mind for far too long.

  Evelyn took a deep breath, opened the bedroom door and headed toward the voices in the kitchen. Both men looked up when she walked in and stopped talking.

  Marcus set down his drink. “Evelyn.”

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. You’ve been amazing through all this, and I honestly don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Evelyn held up her hand. If she stopped now, she wouldn’t be able to finish, and she needed to explain, needed someone else to understand.

  “It’s not an excuse, I know. But I feel this loss, this pain, and I can’t get away from it. It’s embedded into my soul, permanently parked right here.” She put her hand over heart, pooled tears threatening to escape down her face once more. “I can’t escape it any more than I can escape my own skin. I battle it every single second of every freaking day. But I was out of line. And I’m sorry.”

  “Ev—it’s okay. I get it.” He tipped her chin up and smiled down at her, the gentleness in his brown eyes warming her down to her toes. “I’m not going anywhere. Got it?”

  A sense of wonder washed over her at the goodness he had in him. Without even knowing it, he’d become her lighthouse in this nightmarish storm. He’d rendered her speechless, so she did the only thing she could do—she threw her arms around his neck, buried her face into his warm chest and hung on for dear life.

  Until an awkward cough brought her crashing back down to reality.

  She let go of Marcus and turned, coming face-to-face with a man who could only be Marcus’s brother.

  “Oh, my, sorry about that.” She stuck out her hand. “Evelyn. Evelyn Davis. My apologies for the ice-queen welcome earlier.”

  “Derek Moretti.” He smiled softly and shook her hand, his blue eyes soft. “And the pleasure’s all mine, Evelyn. No need to apologize. I’m amazed you’re even out here.”

  Yep, he definitely came from Marcus’s DNA pool. He extended the same grace and compassion she’d come to love from Marcus.

  “I have a thought I want to run by you,” Evelyn said.

  “Let’s hear it.” Marcus sank to the stool.

  “What if this—” Evelyn pointed to the mass chaos in front of them “—started differently than we thought?”

  “Not following.”

  “We’re assuming all these murders are connected to me because of my own family’s murder, right? A way to get my attention, draw me out. But what if it goes back further than that? What if we’ve been looking at the wrong trigger all along?”

  Derek’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit.”

  Evelyn glanced between both men. “Following now?”

  “I think so, but go on.” Marcus waved his hand in the air.

  “I think we should broaden our search to a homicide that seemed like a family annihilator case around the same time frame as my family’s murders.”

  “What the—Evelyn, are you suggesting what I think you are?”

  “I’m not convinced this guy is a copycat stalker.”

  Marcus stared at Evelyn, the color fading from his face.

  Evelyn took a deep breath. “I think we should consider the possibility that this guy
is the killer who murdered my family.”

  * * *

  MARCUS’S PHONE CHIRPED. He tore his eyes from Evelyn’s face. How the hell had he missed that connection? Better yet, how long had it been since Evelyn made that leap? He punched in his code, then scanned the email. He had the partial print now. At least something had gone right this morning. He tapped his phone.

  Evelyn frowned. “What did I miss?”

  “The killer left a partial at the scene.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Have we—? Is it—?”

  Derek grinned and opened his laptop. “Time to call in the big guns.”

  Marcus dialed his phone and waited. A soft, feminine voice answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, MK.”

  Marcus smiled at his sister’s nickname for him. “Hey, sweetheart. You have a second?”

  “For you? Always.”

  “Great. I need red.” Red was their term to go secure on any line. His genius baby sister had figured out a way to scramble their calls without needing a special phone. It had saved all the Moretti brothers at one point or another.

  “Go ahead,” she said, her voice high with excitement.

  Marcus rolled his eyes at Derek, who smiled. They knew she loved when her brothers called, especially red. If her parents hadn’t demanded she finish school, she’d be running circles around them at the Bureau—or gone deep and silent with some black ops group.

  “You’re on speaker. Derek and Evelyn are here, as well.”

  “Howdy, folks.”

  Evelyn smiled and tipped her head to the side. Marcus hit the send button on his phone. “I’m sending you a print now. It’s only a partial, but it’s all we’ve got. I need you to run it through every agency that you can get into. Be discreet—”

  “When am I not?”

  He could almost see her eyes rolling now. He’d seen her do it a million times before. Her tech skills were legendary and highly sought after. She’d been able to hack into the FBI database without leaving any type of footprint since she was fifteen.

  “True. But it needs to be discreet and fast. This guy’s had us running for over a week now. I’m tired of it. He can’t be a ghost. His prints have to be somewhere.”

  “It may take me a few days to run this through, but I’m on it. We’ll find something. And MK?”

  “I know, I know.” He smiled. “Be careful.”

  “Actually, I was going to ask, when do I get to meet Evelyn?” Alexis laughed then hung up.

  * * *

  MARCUS’S PHONE CHIRPED ONCE. He jolted awake. The red digits on his side table glared at him—3:48 a.m. Whoever was calling now had better have a good explanation. He rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Evelyn, and reached for his phone, entirely conscious—one of the few benefits of having lived in the sandbox.

  “Moretti.” He headed for the bedroom door.

  “We found him,” the voice on the other end of the line said. No introductions, no salutations.

  Marcus’s pulse jumped. “Who? Our print guy? And who is this?”

  “Sorry, sir, this is Officer Sanchez. We found Liam.”

  “What’s his status?” Marcus quietly padded down the hallway, past Derek, who was sprawled on the plush sofa. Softly snoring now, the man would be fully awake in a second. Marcus swore his brother always slept with one eye open.

  “Alive.”

  Marcus closed his eyes and blew out a loud breath. His stomach uncoiled as relief washed over him, followed by instant concern. “Officer Sanchez, I need more than one-word answers. Tell me everything you know. Now.”

  “Sorry, sir. A priest down at St. James Cathedral on Ninth just called it in. Apparently a masked man came into the cathedral, walked straight up to him and handed the child over. He told the priest not to wake the child, turned and walked off.”

  Marcus paced the kitchen, listening intently. He grabbed a piece of paper and pen, furiously jotting down notes as Sanchez fully debriefed him. “Okay. Where is he now?”

  “He’s been transferred to Seattle Children’s Hospital. There aren’t any signs of physical or sexual abuse, but he’s not responsive. He’s currently in a medically induced coma.”

  Marcus’s heart sank. “Why the hell is he in a coma? Spit it out, Sanchez.”

  “I’m not sure, sir. That’s all the information I have.”

  Marcus sat at the end of the kitchen island, head in his hand. “I want to speak with the physician in charge later today. Let’s make that happen.”

  “Yes, sir. Kessler told us whatever you say goes.” Marcus heard the rustling of paper on the end of the line. “I’ll get on that right now.”

  He nodded. “Great, thanks. And, Sanchez, if anything changes in the next few hours, let me know immediately.”

  He hung up, then rubbed both hands over his face.

  When he looked up, Evelyn was sitting at the opposite end of the counter. Derek leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Both of them stared at Marcus.

  “What was that about?” Derek asked slowly.

  “They found Liam. He’s alive.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Evelyn said. “Where’d they find him? How is he? When can I see him?”

  “As far as they can tell, he’s fine.” Marcus repeated all the information he’d just learned. “The priest said he was preparing for the late night mass when an armed masked man came into the church and came straight up to him with a young child passed out in one arm. When the priest asked the man his name, he apparently cocked the gun, pointed it in the priest’s face and told him to shut up. If he woke the child, the man would kill him.”

  Derek’s eyebrows shot up.

  Evelyn glanced over at Derek. “I know you’ve done a lot already, but can you make a call and have your team at Quantico reevaluate the write-up?”

  “I was just making a mental note to do that.” Derek went to the refrigerator, opened it and grabbed a bottle of water. “We hadn’t factored in any sort of empathy. A psychopath having compassion for one child but murdering the sibling not only startles me, but also makes me sick. What kind of twisted person are we dealing with here?”

  “Oh, but it gets better,” Marcus said. “This masked man then shoved Liam into the priest’s arms, turned and walked out. A note was pinned to Liam’s onesie that read, ‘I’m not the monster. I saved him.’”

  “He did what?” Evelyn’s eye grew wide.

  “Very interesting.”

  “Interesting, my ass,” Marcus said. “Liam is currently at Seattle Children’s Hospital.”

  “Why? Did he hurt Liam?” Evelyn asked, her voice hard. Worry and fear shone brightly in her face.

  “I don’t know everything yet. There weren’t any signs of physical or sexual abuse, but he’s not responsive.”

  Evelyn moved to the window and stared out into the inky night. “I hate not having all the information.”

  “I know, Ev. I’m meeting with the doctors later today.” Marcus turned to his brother. “I want you there with me.”

  “You got it,” Derek said softly.

  Marcus felt her steady gaze slicing straight through to his soul. Tilting her head to the side, she stared at him. He knew she was reading him, figuring out what he wasn’t saying. He’d seen her in action before.

  Then, it was brilliant.

  Now, it was unnerving.

  “There’s something else you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” Evelyn moved slowly, closing the distance between then until she stood right in front of him.

  Of course she’d sense he was holding something back. Because he was. But what the hell was he supposed to do? He’d gotten her to come out of her self-induced solitary confinement. The last thing he wanted was his words to send her running back.

  “Marc
us?”

  He sighed. There was no easy way to bring it up. He scrubbed his hands over his jaw and then locked eyes with her. “The funeral is in two days.”

  She stumbled backward, as if his words had physically slammed into her. Pain washed over her face as she looked away. The artery in her neck pulsed. He knew how critical it was for her to get up, to choose to be there—even if every movement felt like a hot blade slicing into her heart.

  At least then she would remember she was alive.

  “The captain is concerned that it will be too much.”

  She shook her head. “It won’t be.”

  He took another step toward her, watching her closely. She blinked back tears and tipped her head up. Good girl, be defiant.

  “That’s what I told him, too. That you wouldn’t let your team down, because you’re stronger than you think you are.” Marcus stood less than two feet from her now. “I told him you’d show up. That you’d show that bastard that he doesn’t get the last word.”

  “I will. But, Marcus...” Her lip trembled, then a hard mask fell over her face. “I want this prick. I need to find him. And I need to take him down.”

  He opened his arms and, without hesitation, she moved closer. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, her body melting into his.

  “We will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  SHE WOULDN’T BECOME a ghost. She couldn’t. She owed them that. Evelyn sank into the chair, stared through a film of tears at the photo of Liam and Ava smiling up at her for a long time. Still clutching her phone, she unlocked it with a swift swipe and dialed.

  “Chief?”

  With that word, an invisible, internal pendulum swung. Grief still penetrated every cell in her body, but a tidal wave of determination rolled over her: to catch the asshole who took Ryan and his family, to bring justice and closure to the families before them. She straightened.

  “Evelyn. How are you?”

  She took a deep breath. “Marcus told me Liam was found. When can I see him?”

  “I would imagine sometime after the funeral.” He hesitated. “But only if you’re up for it.”