Dead Don't Lie (25 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

E
VELYN
’
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 were 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?”

He brought another chair over to her and set it down. He straddled the chair, leaned his elbows on its high back and glared at her. “I still can’t figure out why the Bureau has such a hard-on for you.”

How did he know?

“And what I also can’t figure out—” he waved the knife around “—is how someone who’s supposed to be so brilliant can’t see what’s right in front of her face. If Angela had gotten that modeling contract instead of you, we would’ve had the means to take my baby sister away from my father, away from his perverted mind. But no. You stole it from her, Evelyn, and left us with nothing.”

She shook her head. He was out of his mind, completely unstable. “No, I didn’t. I never met your sister.”

He got up and backhanded her. “Shut up. Just shut the hell up. You did. You bitch, you did. And you stole my family in the process.”

As he paced, she debated her next words. She had to keep him talking, to keep him occupied until Marcus and the team found her.
Please let them be on their way.
She took a deep breath.

“So you had to take my family,” she said quietly.

He stopped pacing, then pointed the knife at her. “You’re finally seeing. Yes. You took my family. So I had to take yours. It’s only fair.”

“But why the others?” She pushed against the vivid images as they rushed into her mind’s eye, focused on the monster in front of her. “They didn’t do anything to you.”

A bored look swept across his face. “They were merely the snare I used to trap you.”

Bile rushed into Evelyn’s throat.

He knelt in front of her and shoved his face closer to hers. She fought the urge to shrink back, refused to give him the satisfaction.

“The closer I got to your inner circle, the more it chipped away at your resolve.” He stood and laughed.

“I watched it happen. Your slow emotional breakdown. How long did it take you to put the pieces together? I’d have expected more from—” his voice took on a singsong tone “—‘Seattle’s star detective.’ Isn’t that what the newspaper article dubbed you?

She clenched her teeth.
That stupid, stupid article.
If only she’d refused the mayor.
No!
She couldn’t think about what-ifs. Her mind shifted to Liam.

“Why’d you save him? Why’d you save the little boy?”

“I’m not a monster.”

Says the man who brutally murdered all those people just to get my attention!
Her mind screamed.

“Tell me about the army.” She switched the subject. She couldn’t bear to hear him talk about Liam and see the excitement shine in his eyes.

“There’s nothing to tell.” He tilted his head, pierced her with his strange, icy glare and smiled. “I did, however, learn how to do some very interesting and useful things with a knife.”

He tossed the hunting knife from one hand to the other, toyed with it and marched toward her. A foot in front of her, he stopped and knelt. He removed a velvet bundle from the black bag. He unsnapped its clasp, then unrolled it to reveal a collection of knives and other tools she’d never seen before. Dread consumed her. Marcus was going to be too late.

“Which one shall we start with?” He reached for the scalpel, pulled back and laughed. He grabbed the hunting knife. “Still think you’re going to kill me?”

He approached her and held the knife under her chin, slowly lifting it. Her breath came in rapid, shallow gulps. She didn’t move, willed her body to freeze. She looked into his face and locked eyes with him.

He leaned close. “My name’s Nick.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Her eyes flicked to his collection of instruments. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Keep him talking. Keep him talking.

“Because soon you’ll be begging, screaming for me to stop.” The knife bit into the flesh of her chin and cut through muscle until it hit bone. Pain flashed behind her eyes. He pushed his face close to hers and sneered. “And I want you to scream my name.”

Her heart constricted. She was going to die. Marcus was going to be too late, and she was going to die. She squeezed her eyes shut.

He scraped the knife along her jawline until the tip rested just beneath her ear. Her eyes popped open. With a cruel smile on his face, he pressed hard and drew the knife in a slant across her cheek to her mouth.

Like a tsunami, white-hot agony crashed over her, shook her body with searing pain. She bit back the scream that rushed to her throat. Blood gushed from her face and down her arms. She felt it drip from her fingertips.

He chuckled and slowly moved the knife to the other side of her face.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

M
ARCUS
SPOTTED
S
ANDERSON
, hunkered down in his front seat, car idling, as they turned onto Evelyn’s street. Marcus didn’t have time to deal with this guy’s shit. His temper flared. “What the hell is he doing here? Fin, pull up behind that car.”

Fin slowly came to a stop behind Sanderson’s car.

“Why are we stopping? Who is that?” Derek unbuckled his seat belt and reached for his gun.

“Josh Sanderson.” Marcus opened his door and frowned. “Evelyn’s nemesis.”

Derek scrambled and followed Marcus out of the car. “This should be interesting.”

Marcus stalked up to Sanderson and rapped on his window. It slowly came down. Marcus leaned on the window’s edge with one hand. “What are you doing here?”

Sanderson pushed open his door, forcing Marcus to step back.

Sanderson shut the door and stood in front of Marcus, feet spread wide.

What is this, the fucking Wild West?
Marcus flexed his fists and took a step toward the short man. “Sanderson. Why. Are. You. Here?”

“Heard Fin over the radio request backup for the place down in Woodmont Beach.” Sanderson shrugged, then smirked. “I called in a favor and tracked your car. Funny how it was coming here.”

“Leave.”

Sanderson crossed his arms over his chest. “Hell, no.”

He peered around Marcus’s shoulder. “From the looks of it, you need me. Where’s your backup? You can’t go in there, not knowing what to expect, with only three of you. Even the mighty Feds know that. This prick screwed with the wrong people. Evelyn and I may not see eye-to-eye—”

Marcus snorted.

Sanderson glared at him before continuing. “But she’s SPD family, which makes her
my
responsibility. I want to find her and get this son of a bitch just as much as you do.”

“He’s right, Marcus,” Derek called from his perch on the hood of their car.

“Fine. You come with me. Fin, you’re with Derek.”

Fin’s eyes grew wide.

“Relax, kid. I’m not just a paper-pushing psychologist. Ever heard of black ops?”

Marcus’s head snapped up.
What the...?
He glanced at his brother. “Black ops?”

Marcus turned back to Sanderson. “Better yet, you go with Fin. Take the front. Derek and I will take the back.”

Sanderson pushed off his car and reached for his gun. “Whatever you say, boss man.”

Fin and Sanderson made their way toward Evelyn’s house, careful to hug the tree line. Marcus and Derek skirted Evelyn’s backyard.

“Black ops?” Marcus whispered, eyebrows arching. “Tell me that was some joke to make Fin feel better about clearing the house with a shrink.”

“Another day, brother. Another day,” Derek said over his shoulder. “Today, we take this prick down and get your lady back.”

Marcus gritted his teeth, then cleared his thoughts. Derek was right. The only thing that mattered today was getting Evelyn back—alive. He sprinted toward Craig Meyer’s backyard, mindful to stay within the shadows. Derek silently followed. Once they cleared the backyard, they moved to the back porch.

Marcus’s heart raced. Every muscle in his body tightened. They climbed the steps slowly, then flanked the entrance. Marcus tested the door. Glanced at Derek, shook his head. Locked. No surprise there. Marcus holstered his weapon, reached into his back pocket and extracted a tiny tool. He knelt, quickly worked the lock until he heard a small
pop.

“Atta boy,” Derek whispered. “That’s a record time.”

Marcus glared at his brother. In one motion, Marcus pocketed the tool and unholstered his gun. He pushed his spine up against the outer wall, looked at Derek. He nodded. Marcus pulled in a deep breath. With one hand, he turned the doorknob and creaked the door open, then charged in.

Ed Meyers—aka Nick McClain—bent over Evelyn, slowing tracing a blade across her deathly pale skin. A sick, delighted look danced in Nick’s face as he caressed her cheek with the knife’s edge. Blood flowed freely from the left side of her face, down her arm and onto the floor.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Marcus yelled, cocking the trigger of his gun. “Now!”

Nick looked up and rushed Marcus, tackling him and sending them both flying down the steps. Both men scrambled to their feet and circled each other.

Marcus saw his brother creeping toward Nick. “Derek, go. Get her out.”

Derek nodded and turned just as the killer reached behind him, grabbed a gun from its hiding spot and fired. Derek went down. Hard.

Marcus let out a roar as righteous fury spread through his veins.

He lunged and tackled Nick to the ground, straddling him, and landed blow after blow into the killer’s face. Nick finally managed to block his fists and flipped Marcus over his shoulder. Marcus landed on his back, and the huge man was on him immediately, reaching for his throat. Marcus drove the heel of his hand up into Nick’s nose, felt the cartilage crunch. Undeterred, the killer clasped Marcus’s throat and squeezed. The killer smiled.

Marcus reached for his ankle gun. His fingers brushed against the metal and he pulled, shoving the muzzle into Nick’s belly. He fired, but the man refused to let up on his viselike grip.

Marcus fought him until he heard two soft
pops.
Nick fell forward, landed hard on top of Marcus. He pushed the killer’s body aside, scrambled away and searched the yard for his brother. Derek rose from his shooting crouch and nodded.

Marcus leaned over and pushed his fingers into Nick’s neck. No pulse.

“Nice shot,
Doctor,
” Marcus said, his own pulse racing. “You okay?”

“Yep. Bullet just grazed me.” Derek walked over, extended his hand and helped Marcus up. “Now, let’s go get your girl.”

Marcus ran into the living room and stumbled over the plastic covering the wood floor.
What the hell?
Evelyn was in the middle of the room, strapped to a chair, naked. Her eyes were closed and her head hung to one side. Cuts covered her legs and her arms. Blood dripped from her elbows and pooled on the plastic sheet under her. It was everywhere. Her face was swollen, and an angry, deep gash crossed her left cheek. His heart pounded. If the bastard who’d done this to Evelyn wasn’t already dead, Marcus knew in that instant that he’d hunt the prick down and kill him himself. Slowly.

“Easy,” Derek said.

Marcus shook the murderous thoughts from his head. Nick McClain could no longer hurt her. He focused on the woman in front of him. The woman he loved and had almost lost. His chest constricted.
He could still lose her.
She wasn’t moving.

“Evelyn, sweetheart,” Marcus called, slowly moving toward her. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t stir.

Sanderson and Fin burst through the front. Both halted as they saw Evelyn. Fin turned away and vomited. Sanderson’s face blanched. “Oh, shit.”

Marcus glanced over his shoulder. Both men looked at Marcus. A deep primal need to defend rose in Marcus as he watched the two men gawking at Evelyn’s still form. He wanted them out, needed to protect Evelyn’s last shred of privacy. Hadn’t she been through enough already?

“Sanderson, get medical in here. Fin, go watch the front. Now,” Marcus yelled, then rushed to her side. “And get me something to cover her.”

Derek followed closely behind him. Marcus knelt in front of her, shielding her nakedness with his body. His throat tightened. They couldn’t help her until they cut her loose. He reached for her neck, gently pressing his fingers to it.
Please be there.
A pulse. His shoulders sagged.
Thank you, God.

His head dropped. Tears gathered in his eyes. “She’s alive. But her pulse is weak. We need to get her to the hospital.”

Derek nodded, then slipped his knife between the plastic zip tie and Evelyn’s skin. It sliced easily through the tie. A deep wound encircled her ankle. He moved to the next.

Marcus pushed the hair from Evelyn’s face and got a better look at the damage. His jaw clenched. His stomach rolled. He gingerly skimmed his thumb over her forehead, the only smooth skin left on her face. She stirred. One eye blinked, and her gaze met his.

“He killed my family,” she whispered so faintly that he barely heard.

“I know, sweetheart. But he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Her brows pulled together, and she winced. “You killed him?”

“We did.” Since Derek had cut away the ankle restraints, Marcus shifted to his left, giving Derek room to work on the ties biting into her wrists.

“
I
wanted to kill him.”

Amazement rushed him. Even now, even in the midst of this hell, she fought for, wanted justice.
Could this woman be any more incredible?
Marcus smiled, tucked her hair behind the ear that wasn’t bleeding. “It’s over now, Ev.”

Tears streamed down her face. “You came for me.”

“Of course I came for—”

Her eyes rolled back. Her head dropped to the side.

Marcus leaped up and pushed his fingers into her neck. Her pulsed jumped, halted, then skipped again. “Shit! We gotta go. Now.”

Derek sliced the last tie and freed her wrist. He caught it as it fell limply.

Marcus gathered her into his arms as Derek shrugged out of his jacket. He covered her body with it, careful to avoid as many of her wounds as possible.

“I can’t lose her,” Marcus said, throat thick, tears pooling in his eyes.

“I know. You won’t.”

She’d gone lax. Her face was white. Marcus cradled Evelyn to his chest. He got to the front door just as the ambulance arrived.

Marcus leaned his mouth close to her ear. “I love you, Evelyn. Do you hear me? I love you. I need you to fight, just a little bit longer. Fight, damn it. I need you. Liam needs you. Fight for us.”