Dead Don't Lie (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A
WARNING
RANG
somewhere in the deep recesses of Evelyn’s subconscious, screaming at her.
Proceed with caution. Proceed with extreme caution.
Calling the press conference was the right thing to do. Her profile being confirmed by the guys at Quantico solidified that. They needed to educate the public not only to keep them safe, but also to reassure them that the SPD was doing its job. She got that. In any other case, she’d have been the first one to suggest it.

Still, something made her pause.

She stared blankly at her computer screen. Kate plopped down on the edge of Evelyn’s desk, startling her. Her friend held out a steaming cup of coffee. “Where’s my hunk of a husband?”

Evelyn took the mug and sipped the hot brew. They’d all stayed up late going over the files, throwing hypotheses at the wall, reworking them. She hadn’t slept after Marcus left. Every time she closed her eyes and started to fall into a fitful slumber, gruesome images flashed against her eyelids. In vivid detail, she saw the Garlands...the Middletons...and Anastasia. Every time her mind’s eye would land on the most precious, familiar crime scene photo, and sharpen focus on her family, she’d jolt awake. She knew the current murders only mimicked her family’s to grab her attention. But still, the subconscious tie disturbed her.

Hence the need for a caffeine fix.

“They just left to meet with the mayor’s office before the press conference.” Evelyn took another sip of the rich liquid. A contented sigh slipped from her lips.

“That’s nice.” Kate crossed her legs. “I actually came to see you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep.” Kate set her coffee down. “Tell me the truth. How are you holding up?”

Evelyn studied her friend for a moment and debated whether or not to be honest with her.
What the hell.

“This case is kicking my ass. And I hate that. Every time I shut my eyes, I’m bombarded with flashes of all these gruesome crime scenes.” She picked up the stack of photos next to her, held them up and let them fall from her fingers. She shook her head, then pinched the bridge of her nose.

She looked up to see Kate’s brows scrunched together. Worry simmered in her eyes.

“And I feel it all.” Evelyn pressed her hand to her heart, agony washing over her. “All the pain, all the heartache, all the worry. All the fear of those families’ loved ones. I feel it all. Every second I work this case, every moment I spend with a loved one, my heart gets filleted. Slowly. Plus, now that they’ve decided to backseat me...well, I feel like I’ve failed them. The families, I mean.”

Kate shifted her weight, uncrossed her legs and hooked her ankles. “You haven’t failed them, Evelyn. And you haven’t been backseated. You’re still an important part of the team. But given the recent developments...”

Evelyn’s eyes widened.

“Ryan told me last night about the knife and photos.” Kate’s pursed her lips. “First, I’m a bit surprised—and pissed—that you didn’t tell me yourself. And second, did you really think he’d keep that from me?”

Evelyn cringed, then shook her head. She’d thought about calling Kate, then that second had passed and the nightmarish day kept right on rolling. After Marcus read Kate in on the case last night, she’d just expected Ryan to fill her in on all the nasty little details. Including the bloody hunting knife stuck in her front door. Evelyn squirmed.
That
little detail should’ve come from her. As her best friend and the closest thing to a sister she had left, Kate deserved that much.

“I meant to tell you about the knife. Sorry.”

Kate shrugged. “It’s okay. But for the record, I think it’s smart. That you’re keeping a low profile.”

Evelyn leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ugly ceiling. “It’s infuriating. And crippling. And demoralizing. How can I help if an invisible ball and chain is shackling me?”

“Come on, Ev. There’s no invisible ball and chain unless you’ve put it there. You’re fully capable of performing that magic of yours, whether you’re front and center or right here. If the powers that be didn’t think you could handle it, they’d never have brought you and Ry on as lead.” She leaned closer. “And the only reason you’re being asked to take a more invisible role now is because they care about you. They’re protecting their own. Besides, you’d do the exact same thing if you were in the chief’s shoes, and you know it. You’re invaluable to the team. Don’t forget that. And as far as your heart goes, I’d be worried if you didn’t feel it. It’s what makes you so good at your job. Don’t discount it now.”

Evelyn smiled. “Thanks. I seriously don’t know what I would do without you. You’re a pillar of strength for me.”

“Me? A pillar of strength? For you?” Kate laughed. “How can you be so brilliant and so not, all at the same time?”

Evelyn cocked her head.

“You’ve got it all wrong. Don’t you get it?
You
are the pillar of strength here. Not me, not Ryan.
You
.” She picked up her coffee and carefully sipped as she scrutinized Evelyn. Worry and fatigue washed over her beautiful face. Kate sat her mug down. “We aren’t going anywhere, sweetie. So stop worrying about that. Focus on the case.”

Evelyn grimaced. “I’m not feeling very strong lately.”

Kate stood, then smoothed her jade-toned pencil skirt. “You’re stronger than you think, braver than anyone I’ve ever met or will ever meet. I’m certain of that. So don’t doubt yourself. No one else does.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

L
ATER
THAT
AFTERNOON
, back at work, Evelyn paced as she watched the TV screen. Her head throbbed and her heart pounded against her ribs. She wiped her palms against her pants. Any minute now, the press conference would start. On screen, the mayor’s chief of staff gave a brief introduction before the mayor and her team walked to the stage. Evelyn sat on the edge of her desk and observed as the mayor straightened his tie.

“Good afternoon. Thank you for joining us today. With me are Chief Diaz and FBI Special Agent Marcus Moretti. Agent Moretti’s been consulting with the Seattle Police Department on this unfortunate series of murders.”

Evelyn snorted.
Unfortunate. That’s the only word you could come up with?

“To his left is Detective Ryan O’Neil. He’s our Seattle Police Department lead, who is heading up this investigation. After working with the local FBI office and Special Agent Moretti, the SPD is closer than ever to finding the killer the media has dubbed the Seattle Slayer. We’ve called this press conference to calm and educate the people of Seattle about the true facts of this ongoing investigation.”

He turned toward Marcus and nodded. “Now, I would like to turn the podium over to Special Agent Marcus Moretti.”

Marcus looked handsome in his dark blue suit and yellow tie. She rolled her eyes.
Oh, good grief, really?
Even on TV, he made her heart race. Her cheeks flushed as her mind replayed his gentle caresses.

“Stupid man.” She twirled her chair in a circle.

Marcus cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Mayor. This individual is most likely a white male in his late thirties, early forties. He’ll be very well-educated and, at first glance, easygoing and approachable. However, he most likely has extensive combat training and is very dangerous. If you suspect anything unusual, do not, under any circumstances, approach this individual. Call 911 immediately. Let us apprehend him. The most important thing is to stay calm, be diligent and watch for unfamiliar activities or anything unusual. We’re working tirelessly on your behalf.”

He turned toward Ryan. “Detective O’Neil.”

Ryan nodded at Marcus, then stepped up to the podium. He was also sharp in a black suit and blue tie. “Thank you. As Special Agent Moretti already confirmed, we’re working diligently toward finding this suspect. We’re confident our team will apprehend him quickly. Until then, we’re asking the public to report any suspicious activity to our hotline.”

Evelyn got up and paced like a lioness in an iron cage. She should be at the press conference—bad idea or not—showing the city of Seattle that her team wasn’t scared, that they were upholding their promise to protect and serve and that they were a strong, impenetrable, united front. She should be there, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Marcus and Ryan. She turned back to the TV, her mind landing on Ryan. He’d stopped talking.

“Detective?”

Ryan pointed to the rear of the room. A young reporter’s face lit up as he straightened and held out his recorder. Evelyn went back to pacing.

“Detective, what else can you tell us about the Seattle Slayer?”

“The Seattle Slay—”

Evelyn slammed to a halt. Her head snapped up and she spun around, catching the subtle twitch in Ryan’s jaw. His knuckles grew white as he gripped the podium. Her heart pounded so hard against her rib cage she thought her chest might burst.

“Don’t.” She pleaded to the screen. “Please, Ryan, don’t.”

His face hardened, eyes darkening. “Let’s call this what it truly is, folks. This guy is a psychopathic killer, not a celebrity.”

The reporter shrank back, all light gone from his face.

Evelyn’s heart sank, afraid of what he’d say next.

Ryan stared directly into the camera. “We know you’re watching, and we have a message for you—”

“No, we don’t,” Evelyn yelled at the TV. Marcus threw Ryan a startled glance. She stood alone, powerless in the empty bull pen, as Ryan threw down an invisible gauntlet to the monster terrorizing their city.

“We
will
find you. You can’t hide from us forever. You’ll make a mistake, and we’ll nail your ass.”

Marcus leaned toward the podium and put one hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “That’s all, folks. Thank you.”

She slumped into her chair and dropped her head into her hands as her stomach plunged to her toes.
What had Ryan just done?

The rest of the briefing came and went. Evelyn didn’t even listen. She sat at her desk, fuming. She’d gone from horrified to pissed in all of about two minutes. She didn’t even bother turning off the TV after Marcus and Ryan exited the stage. She’d known this press conference was a bad idea. Everyone was on edge.
Why had no one listened to her?
Wasn’t she supposed to be the resident badass who could get into the mind of a killer, close the impossible cases? Wasn’t she the one who was being poached by the Bureau because of that exact skill? So why the hell hadn’t they listened? Calm the city, yes. Spit in the face of this killer, no.

* * *

“W
HAT
THE
HELL
was that, Ryan?” Evelyn asked the moment he and Marcus stepped out of the elevator.

Ryan pushed past her. He sat at his desk and answered with a sheepish shrug. “I got a little carried away. It won’t happen again.”

“You got—” She choked on her words. “You got a little carried away? You shouldn’t have gone off like that.”

“Ev, it won’t happen again. I’ve got this.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. “Calm down. It’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” she snapped. “And no, it won’t be fine. You just publicly challenged him. If he was watching—”

“Which he was,” Marcus interjected.

“—you all but personally invited him to prove you wrong.”

Ryan’s face went white
.
“Shit.”

“Yes. ‘Shit’ is right.”

Marcus leaned against the wall. “We’ve got to think about doing damage control on this before he retaliates.”

“Not tonight, Marcus.” She sank into her chair. “If we go back on the air, it’ll appear we’ve made a mistake. Which will only fuel him further. Tonight, we sit on it.”

He shook her head. “I don’t like it. But you’re right.”

“So now what?” Ryan asked.

“You go home.” Marcus said it so quietly, Evelyn almost missed it. Her eyebrows shot up.

Ryan rose. His eyes flashed. “No way. Look, I saw red at the thought of glamorizing this bastard targeting Evelyn, and I responded. I’m sorry. I didn’t think, just reacted. It won’t happen again.”

Marcus put his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I know. Believe me, I want this guy just as much as you do. But you’re too worked up about this. Go home. Tuck the kids in bed. I’ll drop Evelyn off in a bit. Then we’ll regroup tomorrow morning, first thing.”

Ryan threw a pleading look at Evelyn. “Ev—”

“It’s okay, Ryan. Go home.”

A mixture of emotions flashed across his face. Evelyn recognized the remorse and frustration. She bit her lip. Now was not the time to go soft on her partner. He needed to cool down, for all their sakes.

Without another word, Ryan turned and stormed to the stairwell. He slammed his open palm into the door, which bounced off the wall as he exited. And just like that, he was gone.

Marcus walked over and sat in the seat Ryan had vacated.

“Did you know he was going to go off like that?” she asked.

He raised his hands in defense, then shook his head.

She sighed. Of course he didn’t know. She’d seen the startled look on his face as Ryan went off on his tangent. That wasn’t something you could fake.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“He’ll be fine. He cools off quickly. Kate, on the other hand, may be pissed at you for stirring him up by sending him home. But you made the right call.”

She pushed her chair back and stretched before grabbing her jacket and putting it on. “I need a drink. Since you’re my taxi service tonight, care to join me?”

Marcus grinned. “You know I do.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

C
OFFEE
AT
S
TARBUCKS
wasn’t exactly the type of drink Marcus had in mind when Evelyn invited him to join her. He’d hoped for something more. But she’d been right in insisting that it be coffee, not hard liquor, that pacified them tonight. He didn’t care really. As long as he got to spend time with Evelyn, he was one happy man.

So here they were, tucked securely in the far corner, backs to the wall, eyes on the door, silently nursing their drinks. Old habits died hard, and every muscle in his body was taut, ready for action if called upon.

“Sorry about Ryan.” Evelyn looked down and swirled the steaming liquid. “He can be a bit of a hothead.”

Marcus chuckled. “You think?”

Her gaze snapped to his face and her eyes flashed. “He’s a good cop.”

“Easy, tiger. No need to defend him, Ev. Ryan’s solid.”

Marcus should have been pissed that Ryan mouthed off on live television, but he wasn’t. How could he be, when Evelyn’s partner had merely beaten him to it? The very idea that this sociopath still ran loose sent chills down Marcus’s spine.

The door chime sounded. Both Evelyn and Marcus glanced over as a younger couple walked in.

“It’s almost as if these murders are fueling him.” Evelyn took a sip of coffee. Her face grew hard. “But what’s the trigger? Why is the rage intensifying? Is he searching for revenge? For a release? Nothing makes sense with this guy, and it’s driving me insane.”

Marcus needed to change the subject, and fast. Even the best needed a break, a moment to give their brain time to reboot. He’d hoped to give that time to Evelyn now, not rehash pieces of the case.

“Tell me about this fed friend of yours.”

She sat back, clearly startled at the about-face in conversation. “Not following.”

“The friend you talked about the first day we met. In the conference room.” He winked at her and motioned with his hands. “I think your exact words were, ‘I don’t think FBI agents are idiots,
Special
Agent Moretti. As a matter of fact, one of my closest friends is FBI.’”

“Oh, yes.” Evelyn laughed. “You must mean Fiona?”

Marcus reached for his steaming cup of coffee and scanned the room before returning his gaze on Evelyn’s face. “So, where is this friend of yours based out of?”

“San Diego. She’s the Bureau liaison with ICE’s Human Smuggling and Trafficking Unit.”

Marcus’s eyebrows shot up.
ICE?
Sex trafficking was organized and violent, particularly along the border. Would-be terrorists and criminals often accessed the same routes as the traffickers. Working in that unit required a thick skin and some serious skill—both in combat and in brains. Somehow it didn’t surprise him that one of Evelyn’s best friends would be working in such a capacity. It seemed everyone in Evelyn’s inner circle was a step above the average Joe. Would this woman, casually sitting across from him, ever cease to amaze him? He smiled. Probably not.

“Impressive.”

“You don’t even know the half of it. She’s amazing. Her strength inspires me.” Evelyn’s eyes softened. She took another sip of her latte. “She’s a bit like me—survivor turned champion of other victims.”

“How so?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted her to answer him. If Evelyn had survived her family’s murder and become a homicide detective, her statement could only mean that Fiona had been a victim of the sex trade herself. Bile rose up in his throat. No one should have to survive that type of brutal horror.

“She was sold,” Evelyn said softly. “She was only eleven.”

“Eleven?” The word came out in a primal growl. Marcus felt his blood boil.

She pursed her lips. “I know. Disgusting, right?”

“There are no words.”

“We met a year after she’d escaped, at a youth hostel in San Diego.”

“She escaped? How?” Marcus knew the stats. The majority of trafficked victims didn’t escape.

“Sorry.” She shook her head. “Some stories aren’t meant to be told.”

“Fair enough. Go on.”

“So here we are, two broken, grieving, angry teenagers, trying to figure out what to do with the remaining pieces of our lives. If it hadn’t been so sad, it would’ve been a bit comical.”

She shifted in her seat and tucked her leg underneath her. “A sweet volunteer at the hostel recognized the signs of trauma we were both clearly exhibiting, and somehow, bless her soul, convinced us to see this counselor friend of hers who specialized in youth trauma. The volunteer opened her house to us, and we both spent the next two years healing. Our friendship blossomed. Ultimately, our goals took us in different directions.”

She smiled, looking nostalgic. “There’s this bond between Fiona and I that distance can’t break.”

“You’re pretty incredible. You know that, right?”

The blush creeping up her neck surprised him. He swallowed the chuckle in his throat. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to him that she’d opened up. Let him in to her inner circle. And now, willingly talking so candidly about her past, she’d let him even further into the secret chambers of her heart. He didn’t take that lightly. Nor did he want anything—even a well-meaning, affectionate chuckle—to ruin that. Especially when he had every intention of staying in that inner circle for good. There was no better time than now to test the waters with just how far she’d let him wander into that gorgeous, generous and strong heart of hers.

“And to be completely truthful with you, Detective Davis, I’m falling for you.” He all but whispered the words, his voice raspy. He studied her face, watching for a reaction.

She put down her coffee, wove her fingers together and leaned her chin on them. Blue eyes sparkled with a fascinating combination of reservation and excitement. Marcus’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Well...don’t let it go to your head, Special Agent Moretti, but I’m beginning to think the same about you.”

She threw him a coy smile, then winked before picking up her latte and taking another sip.

His heart kicked into overdrive.
Be cool, man, just be cool.
Promise shimmered in her eyes. He wanted nothing more than to know all of her. Marcus shifted in his chair. He couldn’t wait to nail this psycho and wrap up this case.