Dead Don't Lie

by L. R. Nicolello

When his footsteps faded, Evelyn fought against her restraints until stars danced behind her eyelids and biting pain stole her breath. She didn’t know how, but she eventually dozed off, only to be awakened some time later by the feel of his hands on her.

  “Now, it’s time to teach you your first lesson.”

  He tossed a knife from hand to hand. Evelyn watched the blade closely. Her pulse pounded in her ears. He took the knife and drew the edge along her collarbone, pressing it into the soft part of her throat. She felt its bite, but didn’t dare swallow, or move. Or even breathe. He traced the knife up her throat. She tilted her chin. He cut at her clothing, then yanked the tattered pieces and dropped them to the floor. Her heart seized in her chest. He slipped the edge of the knife under her bra strap, and every muscle in her body tightened. He looked down at her, laughing as he cut it away. Cold air washed over her exposed breasts, and they responded in kind. Heat rushed her face.

  He drew the knife in a figure eight around her breasts, nicking one nipple. She sucked in a breath, swallowed the pain. He trailed the sharp blade down her sternum, past her navel. He pushed it under the edge of her panties, cut through the thin fabric and pulled them from her body.

  Evelyn’s breath hitched. Her mind tumbled over itself.

  He set aside the knife, then reached for her. She twisted her head to look away.

  She was powerless against his touch, couldn’t defend herself. She wanted to cry, to sob uncontrollably. But that would’ve only given him satisfaction and fed his twisted need for revenge and power. He will not rape me. It was the only thought she could focus on, the only thought she could draw strength from. So she repeated it over and over in her mind...and she fought like hell.

  He struggled against her wild thrashing. “Bitch, hold still.”

  She fought harder, ignored the fire in her muscles. She bucked against the cuffs, her shoulders screaming. If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting this bastard.

  He pulled out a gun from his waistband and pistol-whipped her once, twice, three times. Her vision blurred and she slumped over. She willed herself to sit back up, but her muscles refused to act.

  Evelyn felt him unlock the cuffs anchoring her to the bed and pull her off it, onto her feet. Her bound legs wobbled beneath her. Her body wouldn’t respond to her mental commands. Her legs buckled. Her captor laughed, then yanked her to her feet again. Evelyn wept on the inside as he hauled her out of the room toward the steps. He forced her, naked, battered and defenseless, in front of him. Her legs barely kept her weight up. At the top of the steps, she froze. She stared down the wooden steps, her heart thumping in her chest. How was she supposed to get down them? Hop? Her eyes filled again as embarrassment crashed over her.

  “Move it.” He prodded her with the tip of his knife. Its sharp tip cut into the softness of her back.

  She tentatively hopped from one step to the next, down the wooden stairs. Her breasts bounced with each jump. Cruel laughter echoed in her ears. She clenched her teeth, ignored his taunting.

  Five steps from the bottom, he pushed.

  Evelyn went flying. Her head connected with the wood floor.

  Her world went black.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  MARCUS HADN’T WAITED for backup. Urgency to find Evelyn, to hold her in his arms, drove at him relentlessly bombarding his conscious thoughts. With Derek and Fin, he’d raced to the address in Woodmont Beach. The apartment they found was immaculate and tiny. Marcus had taken the right, Derek the left. Fin covered the front door.

  Derek stuck his head out a bedroom door. “Marcus, you need to see this.”

  Marcus made his way toward his brother. “Fin, call it in. Let the captain know she isn’t here. Cancel the backup.”

  Fin nodded, then reached for his radio.

  Derek led Marcus into the smaller bedroom.

  Photos—some black-and-white, others vibrant colors—covered two full walls of the cramped bedroom. Every single one of them showcased a different angle of Evelyn: Evelyn glancing over her shoulder while walking down Pike Place Market; Evelyn walking out of the original Starbucks, juggling a latte in one hand; Evelyn sitting on her front porch, rocking in the worn, green rocker; Evelyn coming out of the precinct, exhaustion clearly written over her face; Evelyn running down the beach.

  Marcus felt sick. His throat tightened. He stared at the images of the woman with whom he’d completely fallen in love. How was it possible it had only been a few short weeks since he first laid eyes on her? His pulse quickened. It felt like she’d been part of his life for years. The thought of her not being next to him for the rest of his life sent ice into his veins.

  He’d never known true heartache before.

  He did now.

  He couldn’t lose her. He had to find her. Would find her. He turned back to the wall of photos, bile rising in his throat.

  “Son of a bitch.” The last photo had been taken the day of Ryan’s funeral. In full parade dress, Evelyn sagged, crumpled in Marcus’s arms. His temper flared. He yanked it off the wall.

  “This guy has been stalking her for a long time, Marcus.” Derek walked up. “I know I don’t have to say this—”

  “Then don’t.”

  Derek sighed. “The urgency to find her just quadrupled. Now that he has her, that the chase has ended and he’s finally proven he’s the alpha hunter, he’ll tire quickly....”

  His heart jumped into his throat, choking him. He swallowed down the fear. “And kill her.”

  “Yes, and judging by those photos...”

  Every one of them had been mutilated. The place where her heart had been was carved out. Red marks were drawn crudely over her arms and legs. The word bitch was scrawled across several of them, and there were knife slashes through all of them.

  Derek shook his head. “He’ll make it as painful as humanly possible.”

  “There’s nothing human about this bastard.”

  “That’s why we have to find her.”

  “Sir.” Fin stuck his head into the room, caught sight of the photos. His eyes grew large. “What the f—”

  “What is it?” Marcus asked.

  Fin straightened his shoulders. “Just got a call. They found another land parcel that belongs to Nick McClain’s great-aunt. She’s dead. The house is supposedly vacant.”

  “That’s where he has her,” Derek said.

  “Send me the address.” Marcus started for the front door.

  “Already done, sir.”

  Marcus turned and glanced back at Fin. The kid was impressive. “Good man. Care to take a ride?”

  Fin nodded. “I thought you’d never ask. I owe Detective Davis.”

  “I already told you, Fin. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

  Fin looked Marcus in the eyes. “But it happened to me. And I need to make it right.”

  Marcus couldn’t argue with Fin’s logic—he shared it. “Then let’s go get her. You drive.”

  “Shouldn’t we call for backup?” Fin followed Marcus through the front door and down the steps.

  “We will, on our way.” He opened the car door.

  He got in, then pulled the door shut. Derek sat behind him. He leaned in close. “How many men are here again?”

  “Don’t be an ass. You know there’s three.”

  “Marcus,” Derek spoke quietly. “That’s not a lot of manpower.”

  Marcus glanced over his shoulder and shot him a scorching glare. “Given the circumstances, it’s better than nothing. Evelyn needs us there, now. Not in a few hours. Now.”

  Derek held up his hands, then sat back. “Okay. Let’s ride.”

  They talked through a thin tactical plan, then rode in silence. Marcus’s phone rang. He picked up before it had time to ring twice. “Talk to me.”

  “
I was right,” Alexis said. “This is one instance when I wish I weren’t, but I am. Someone hacked into that file I sent and swapped out the photos.”

  “Did you find the correct one?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Good, send it.”

  “Sending now. I should have caught it sooner. MK, I’m so sorry.” He could hear she was close to tears.

  “Alexis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “No one else would have been able to see that shadow. You did a good job.”

  “Be safe,” she whispered.

  “When are we not?”

  Silence met him.

  He sighed. “We’ll be safe. I promise.”

  “You better be.”

  Alexis’s email came through quickly. Marcus hit the links and waited for them to download. A soft chirp announced they were done. Marcus looked down.

  Ed Meyer, Evelyn’s neighbor, stared back at him.

  Marcus’s heart seized.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Derek glanced up from his notes.

  “Fin, turn around,” Marcus said.

  Fin’s eyebrows scrunched together. He glanced over at Marcus. “Sir, with all due respect, we’re only ten minutes from this address. If Evelyn’s there, we need to keep going. She needs us.”

  “Turn around. They won’t be there.”

  Derek set his papers down. “Marcus?”

  “Turn the fuck around,” Marcus yelled. “Now.”

  Fin jerked the wheel, spun the car around one hundred and eighty degrees and floored it. “Sir? Where am I going?”

  “Head back to Evelyn’s place. Step on it.” Marcus slammed his fist against the dashboard. “Call the team. Have them proceed to the original location. But it’s only a precaution. They won’t find her.”

  “Take a look.” He tossed the phone back to Derek and swore again. “The bastard has her next door.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  EVELYN’S HEAD THROBBED. Her lips burned. She blinked, the fog in her mind clearing. Why’d he take the tape off? She tried to breathe through her nose and quickly understood. She couldn’t. Apparently suffocating her to death wasn’t part of his playbook for today. She huddled in the corner, wrists tied behind her, ankles bound. She’d managed to draw her knees to her chin and twist her body to cover her nakedness. Stripping her had been a psychological play on his part. And it had worked. For about five minutes. Then it had just pissed her off. Now, she waited and watched the door. He had to be former military of some sorts, or just plain screwed in the head.

  She trembled, praying it was the former.

  The back door swung open. The man walked in, carrying a roll of plastic tucked under one arm and a black satchel in his hand. Evelyn eyed him, but couldn’t keep the fear at bay. One only had to watch a few cop shows to figure out why he needed that plastic.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to suffer.” He set the plastic by the fireplace and tossed the bag next to it. “And then, I want you to die.”

  “Think that through for a minute. Killing me is a bad ide—”

  “Killing you is all I’ve thought about for the past fifteen years.” In three giant strides, he stood in front of her, eyes wild, then his fist connected with her face. Her head bounced against the wall, and her vision blurred. She tasted metal and swallowed blood as the split in her lip grew.

  Blinking back tears of pain, she watched him calmly walk back to the gear he’d dropped.

  He picked up the plastic, moved to the center of the living room and set it down. Kicking it with his foot, he rolled it out toward the fireplace. Without a word, he marched out of the room and returned moments later with a chair. He set it firmly in the middle of the plastic. Then he went to the fireplace and grabbed the satchel. With his back to her, he opened it.

  Evelyn trembled. The guy was obviously smart. He’d outmaneuvered them for weeks now. And clearly unstable—in less than a minute, he’d swung from rage to calm. Her mind tumbled over itself. Think. How can I stay a step ahead of him? How can I placate him, without offending that tender balancing act between composed and murderous?

  If she’d been studying this case, she’d be fascinated with the complexities he exhibited.

  But she wasn’t studying it.

  She was in it.

  And that changed everything.

  “All of SPD will be looking for me,” she whispered, waiting for his reaction.

  He shrugged, cast a cruel look over his shoulder and sneered. “Along with your pretty Fed boyfriend, no doubt.”

  She’d known he’d been stalking her. Why, then, did shock slice through her?

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” she answered slowly, with a steady voice. “Which brings me back to my point. Killing me is a bad idea.”

  “No.” He walked toward her.

  She scooted farther into the corner and pushed back until the exposed brick cut into her. He grabbed a handful of her hair and hauled her up. She cried out, then bit her lip to keep another moan from escaping.

  “It’s what you deserve, and what you’ll get. Later.”

  He dragged her across the room, then shoved her into the chair. He circled her. She twisted in her seat and mirrored his movement with her own. Naked or not, she didn’t want to turn her back on him.

  “Did you know I watched my father beat my mother to death?”

  His statement threw her off balance. Where was this coming from? She quickly regrouped, stared straight into his cruel eyes and took a deep breath.

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been painful for you,” she said with as much empathy in her voice as she could muster.

  Keep him talking.

  His left eye twitched, then he backhanded her, sending her tumbling. Her head smashed against the brick mantel. She saw flashes of light spark behind her eyes. Blinking hard, she willed herself to not give in to the darkness that rushed through her. She rolled to a sitting position as blood dripped from a gash in her head.

  He gripped her wrists and yanked.

  Evelyn swallowed another cry as searing pain shot through her shoulder. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But she’d heard a soft pop and, judging by the way her shoulder sagged and the excruciating pain radiating down her right side, she’d guess it was dislocated. He dragged her to the chair, picked it up and slammed her down into it again.

  “You don’t even understand the meaning of painful. I was ten.”

  His knuckles connected with her face. Again. She spit out blood, then looked up at him through one eye. The other had swollen shut.

  “He told me if I said anything, he’d kill both my sisters. Make me watch that, too.”

  She shuddered. What type of monster had he lived with? What type of monster had he become?

  He reached for his bag and pulled out a hunting knife.

  Recognition, then panic, ripped through her. It looked exactly like the knife that was used to kill her father. She should know—she’d been studying it for fifteen years.

  He walked around and stood behind her. She tensed, waiting for the same fate. Her mind rushed to Liam, then to Marcus. He shoved his hand onto her injured shoulder. She cried out, doubled over. He grabbed her wrists, then sawed through the ropes binding them. He took her right arm, twisted it and slammed it down against the chair arm, palm up. She sucked in air. Then everything started to go black.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Stay with me.” He slapped her, jarring her back to reality, to the agonizing pain she couldn’t escape.

  “Did you know that my fucking father also had his way with both my sisters? Of course you didn’t, Evelyn.” He cinched a zip tie so it bit into her right wrist, then quickly repeated the motions with her left. “You we
re too busy living your perfect little life.”

  Her head hung down, blood dripping from her chin to her thigh.

  “When I got big enough to fight him, he shipped me off to military school. After I graduated, I tried to get my sisters out. He and I got into a fight. He called the police. And you know what they did? Look at me!”

  She raised her head, pushed away the fear coiling itself around her heart.

  He looked down at her with cold eyes.

  She shook her head. No, she didn’t know what they did.

  “Instead of serving and protecting my sisters, like those pigs had sworn to do, they hauled my ass to jail and let my father go back to my sisters. That bastard greased the hands of a local judge, and I got shipped off again, this time to the army.”

  He knelt in front of her, then took her ankles in his hands. “Do you know I heard my older sister try to protect our baby sister from that shit of a father?”

  He sawed at the rope, jerked one ankle to the right, pushed it against the chair leg and tightened a zip tie around her ankle until it slashed into her flesh. “She walked in on him trying to have his way with my little sister. With his child! No one should have to endure that.”

  He caught her other ankle and tightened the tie, hard. Evelyn sat bound, naked and completely vulnerable. She stared down at him as he spoke, as if in a trance. Her heart broke for his sisters. He was right. No one should have to endure that. He looked up at her. Pain radiated in his eyes. A minuscule tremble pulled at his lower lip. Shock swept through Evelyn. She hadn’t expected to see sadness in his face. He shook his head. “I’d just returned from the sandbox, just landed at JFK. I was on the phone with her when she tried to make sure my father never touched her, or our baby sister, again.

  “She was no match for him. I heard it all. Him beating her. Her crying as he killed our baby sister to spite her, then turned to her. I heard it all.” He turned stony eyes on her. “And I couldn’t do a fucking thing.”

  The flash of emotion she’d seen was gone, along with any shred of humanity in him. She stared into the face of a psychotic killer. She scrambled to keep him talking, to keep him focused on something other than killing her. “That must have been so horrible for you. But what does that have to do with me or my family?”