But first she had to deal with Wyatt. “I actually have a question.”
Wyatt sat on the end of the bed. “Shoot.”
“Why are you still here?” Did he feel guilty he hadn’t been there when Mr. Thomas came in, or that he hadn’t checked out her condo before he left? That wasn’t something he needed to take upon himself. She was a trained former CIA agent. She didn’t want him to stick around if that was the reason.
“A bad thing happened to you today.” His face was neutral, unreadable. “I rode in the ambulance with you, and I wanted to see that you were okay.”
“You did.”
Doubt flashed across his face. “Do you want me to leave?”
Usually he acted like he couldn’t wait to leave her presence. Not today after lunch, but previously when they’d hung out as a group.
Nina sighed. She couldn’t deny it was nice to not be alone. Plus she kind of thought Wyatt felt guilty for the fact that Mr. Thomas had gotten away.
“Maybe you could...stay until the doctor comes.”
“I could do that.” His eyes flashed, but he sobered fast. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Mr. Thomas came in.”
“He wouldn’t have come if you had been, and you couldn’t have stayed forever. You didn’t know.”
“But you did, and I didn’t believe you. And now a killer is loose.” He pulled a phone from his back pocket. Her phone. He swiped the screen and then held it up.
The text message. That was the thing she’d forgotten to tell him, the text from Mr. Thomas now obscured by the shattered glass of her phone’s screen and the edges of the clear tape he’d covered it with.
“You want to tell me why you didn’t mention earlier that this killer threatened you?”
FOUR
Wyatt set his mug on the coffee table and sat, still in his pajamas. Sleep had been a pipe dream, especially after Nina shut down and refused to tell him anything more when he’d confronted her over the text. She hadn’t shared it with him. She hadn’t trusted him. If she’d told him about it Wyatt would never have left her alone at her condo.
Nina had been admitted to the hospital overnight, and when the doctor mentioned it she’d looked relieved. It made no sense to him why anyone would choose the hospital over home, but she had to be monitored for a possible concussion. So here he was, just before six in the morning, on his couch.
He held the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. He needed a sounding board, and who better than his cousin, the FBI agent?
Geoff’s voice was chipper, as always. “Up early, aren’t you, coz?”
Wyatt smiled and relaxed back into the corduroy cushions. “Whereas you probably didn’t even go home last night.” His cousin lived on the East Coast where the FBI was headquartered, and he refused to lose. Ever.
“Actually I went to the gym at four after the debriefing wrapped up, and then I went home to take a shower and came back to work. For the record.”
Wyatt snorted. “Overachiever.” Neither of them had slept, then. Wyatt probably looked a whole lot rougher. He certainly felt it.
“So what’s up with my favorite Oregon cousin this morning?”
“Nothing your very-special-agent, East Coast self can’t help me with. So get your Fed fingers moving across that keyboard and find me whatever you can on the murder of Congresswoman Clarissa Holmes.”
A choking sound erupted on Geoff’s end of the phone. “Congresswoman who?”
“It happened thirty years ago.”
“Thank goodness. I thought you’d stumbled on something big. I would have owed you.” Geoff made a shuddering noise.
“I didn’t say I hadn’t,” Wyatt said. “Now type.”
“Congresswoman Clarissa Holmes?”
Wyatt rattled off the date of the murder, which he’d gleaned from the crime lab’s sweep of Nina’s apartment and the array of documentation she had detailing her mother’s life—and her death.
Geoff made a negative buzzer noise. “Nada. Next question.”
“Nothing?”
“Crime predates electronic files. When it was entered into the official record, the file would have been incinerated and only the evidence kept. What I have onscreen are the bare bones of a file that is curiously missing pertinent details—not sure why it wasn’t all filled out correctly. I have only key elements that would confirm it’s the right case, and a note about a fire at the evidence storage facility. That’s all.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“So basically I got nothin’ but an address and a date.”
If the evidence had been destroyed and the file altered, that couldn’t be good. Clarissa Holmes’s murder had to have been a big deal. Could it be a coincidence that Nina’s father was dead and the evidence had been conveniently burned to a cinder? Wyatt didn’t believe it. Not considering the fact that Mr. Thomas was alive and well, and very aware Nina was looking into this. Could he have set the fire that destroyed the evidence?
“Sorry, Wyatt.” Geoff paused for a minute. “You know, an internet search says the husband did it.”
“He died in prison.” Wyatt explained about Nina, his connection to her and how “Mr. Thomas” had shown up at her house the day before. “She needs help.”
“That much is clear.”
Wyatt didn’t like that tone. “Hey—”
“No, I know you, Wyatt. You get suckered in by a pretty face and a sob story and you’re running errands for this woman. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to reopen the...wait a second.”
Wyatt waited for the rest, but it never came. “What?”
“The case isn’t closed.”
Wyatt shook his head to his empty living room. “You just said the husband was convicted.”
“Hang on.” Geoff was quiet for a couple of minutes.
Wyatt sipped his coffee and tried to figure out what on earth was going on. What if Nina was telling the truth? He’d ruled out her having some kind of delusional episode brought on by the stress of being kidnapped months ago and almost having her thumb cut off. He’d seen the man in her bedroom, after all. And he’d read the text message she hadn’t wanted to explain to him. Wyatt had drawn his own conclusions on that one.
He hadn’t really thought there was more to her mother’s murder than what he assumed the Feds had discovered. There was no way they’d have garnered a conviction without it. A federal case couldn’t be based on a confession alone—they had to have had evidence.
He didn’t know what to think about “Mr. Thomas.” At the moment none of this really made sense to him, but one thing was clear. Nina needed help. And if Wyatt could help her, then he should do it. He owed as much to Parker. He’d been a good friend to Wyatt for years, and Sienna had made his life better.
Wyatt couldn’t deny that their faith had a lot to do with it as well. But the two of them had been through so much, and if Wyatt could make their happy times easier by helping their friend, then he was going to do everything he could to make that happen.
“Okay, I got something. But it makes no sense.”
Wyatt said, “What is it?”
“The file...it isn’t really open, but it’s not closed either.”
“You’re right. That makes no sense.”
Geoff huffed. “It looks like it’s been flagged. There’s an active investigation into a string of murders. They have to be similar somehow, but I’d have to look into each one to figure it out. Clarissa Holmes’s murder is possibly connected.”
“Seriously?”
“Six murders over a thirty-year period by the looks of it. There’s an open investigation into them, ongoing. Has been for a while. Probably stalled out for lack of leads. The congresswoman was number one, and number six was just three years ago.” Geoff paused. “In your neighbo
rhood, actually.”
“In my town?”
“No, Portland.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. Of course someone from the East Coast would think Portland and a small town hours away were the same “neighborhood.”
He stretched. “A serial killer, really?”
“Exactly.” Geoff sounded baffled. “Listen, you want a copy of these files? I can let the agent in charge of the case know you were asking.”
Wyatt bounced the idea around in his mind, but all he could think of was Nina’s beaten and bruised face. Those big blue eyes looking up at him, tear filled and asking for help.
“Send me everything.”
A serial killer.
Was it possible Nina was exactly right, that Mr. Thomas had killed her mom...and then killed five more people over the years? Dread settled over him. She’d faced down Mr. Thomas just yesterday, tangled with a serial killer and fought him off sufficiently enough that he’d left her and retreated.
But had he, really?
Wyatt had seen a lot of awful things in his time as a cop and as a marshal. There wasn’t a lot that surprised him about what people could do to each other for money, or power, or some misguided sense of love or devotion. But the idea that Nina had been alone with a killer drew a lump into his throat.
He threw on some clothes, not even bothering to check whether his tie matched the rest of it. When he trailed back out of the bedroom, his inbox had a new email from Geoff with multiple attachments.
Wyatt’s cousin had flagged the most recent file. Three years ago, a woman—twenty-nine years old—had been found beaten to death in her bedroom. Young daughter. Estranged husband, a soldier, considered a suspect until it became clear he had been deployed at the time. A couple of other suspects, but nothing concrete the investigating detectives could use to get a warrant for anyone’s arrest.
More times than he cared to remember, Wyatt had watched the prime suspect in a case walk because of lack of evidence. Despite the fact that every instinct he’d had assured him they were as guilty as a person could get, there had been nothing Wyatt could do about it. Frustrating, to say the least.
He’d have to call the lead detective, though he didn’t know what the man’s reaction would be. Everyone on the Portland police force thought Wyatt had left for greener pastures. Cops were cops until they died, and they considered it essentially betrayal that he’d transferred to the marshals’ fugitive apprehension task force. Either betrayal, or they thought he’d gone because he couldn’t handle the job.
Neither of which said much about him that was good.
If Wyatt was going to get anywhere he’d have to call his former partner, a man he hadn’t spoken with much in the years since he’d left—despite their being close as brothers. No one except Parker knew the truth of what had happened with his father and the effect it had had on his own career.
But in order to help Nina, Wyatt was going to have to face the past.
* * *
Nina’s whole body ached. She blinked away the cloud of sleep and shifted to sit up. She winced and glanced at the door to the hospital room.
Mr. Thomas stood there.
Nina screamed.
Sienna shot from the chair beside the bed and touched her shoulder. “Nina.”
Nina blinked. He was gone. “I saw...” She pointed at the door. “He was...”
“Oh, honey.” Sienna hugged her and settled on the bed. “It was a flashback.”
Nina couldn’t stop breathing hard.
“It’s completely normal. You had a traumatic experience.”
Nina heard what she didn’t say, that it had been more than one traumatic experience back-to-back. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe away the panic the way her counselor had taught her, reciting prime numbers in her head.
Sienna cut in, “Twenty-four, sixty-two. Three hundred and fourteen.” A smile infected Sienna’s voice.
Nina shoved her away. “You’re making me lose count on purpose.”
Sienna chuckled. “Want some breakfast?”
“Not really.” Nina settled back on the bed. “I’m ready to get out of here.”
“Already told the doctor that.” Sienna knew how she felt about hospitals, mostly because it was the exact same way Sienna felt. In fact, did anyone seriously like being stuck in a bed getting poked and prodded? “He said you should be able to go home this morning.”
“Great.”
“So.” Sienna dragged the word out. “How are you doing?”
“Sore.”
Her friend’s lips twitched. “I meant about Wyatt.”
“I know what you meant.” Sienna hadn’t hidden her desire to see her friends get together, despite Nina explaining that was impossible.
Was she even ready to talk about the man who had unexpectedly entered her life at possibly the worst moment? “There’s no point in talking about it. It’s not going to work. Not when I have all this hanging over my head. I have to find the evidence that proves Mr. Thomas was my mother’s murderer, and I have to do it before fall semester starts.”
Sienna gasped. “You got that job?”
Nina nodded. “They called the day before yesterday.”
“And you didn’t text me right away?”
“You were at the doctor. Whatever that was about, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Especially not when it was only a voice mail to say they’d loved her at the interview and wanted her to come in and sign papers.
“But this is huge! Teaching economics at the community college. You’ll be here. Settled.”
“I know.”
“I told you that master’s degree would come in handy.”
Nina shook her head, smiling. It had been a lot of work, but a student visa had given her a great cover as a CIA agent.
Sienna’s eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. “I get to have you here. Auntie Nina, full time.”
“Aunt—”
“I’m pregnant. That’s what the appointment was.”
“Well, I thought so. I just didn’t want to say anything.” Nina grabbed Sienna’s hands and held them tight. Her best friend since third grade, her CIA coworker, her family. There was nothing she’d experienced in decades that Sienna hadn’t been a part of. “A baby?”
Sienna nodded, her face stretched wide in a smile. “Don’t say anything to anyone. I haven’t told Parker yet. Things have been a little busy, and I want to find the right moment.”
Nina pulled her friend in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
Sienna leaned back. “But you’re not, and yet you think somehow that’s fine. Because it’s not, Nina. You can have what I have, and not when Mr. Thomas has been caught. Now.”
She shook her head. “You think he’s going to let me be happy? He tried to take me from my apartment. He—” Her voice cracked. Nina swallowed. Blow after blow, not knowing when it would stop and he would drag her off to dump her body in a shallow grave. That would have destroyed Sienna.
“Nina—”
“I think you should go home. I’ll call a cab when it’s time to leave.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Sienna didn’t understand, and likely the damage was already done. There wasn’t an inch of her life that didn’t have Sienna as part of it. Mr. Thomas wouldn’t hesitate to use that against Nina. And now with Sienna pregnant on top of everything?
“Call Parker. I’m sure he’ll pick you up.”
“I drove my car here.” Sienna looked like she was about to cry. It was a kick in the stomach when Nina wanted nothing more than to spend the morning with her best friend thinking up possible baby names.
Nina clenched her stomach and looked her friend in the eye. “Please go. I’ll be fine.”
Because if Si
enna was here when Mr. Thomas came around again, she wouldn’t be able to guarantee her friend’s safety.
Sienna didn’t move. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Why you’re pushing me away all of a sudden.” She got up. “I know. And if anything happens to you, I’m going to kill Mr. Thomas myself.”
Nina didn’t smile. “I don’t doubt it.”
Sienna grabbed her purse and swept out of the room, probably fighting tears. Because Nina was doing the same thing. When the door shut behind her friend, Nina let them come. With tears streaming down her face, she cried out all the fear she’d ever felt for her friend and the worry she had over Sienna’s future. And then she prayed.
Everything was finally going right for her friend. Sienna had survived a dangerous career as a CIA agent, amnesia, a fight to the death with bad guys prepared to kill her and a sniper shot to the shoulder. Now she was married and pregnant. Sienna’s life had to be safeguarded. Even if that meant Nina was completely alone for the rest of her life. At least she would know Sienna was safe and happy.
The doctor strode in, took one look at her and said, “Uh...”
She waved off his concern and blubbered through the entire exit procedure. When he left her to get dressed in the fresh clothes Sienna had brought her, Nina cried through that, too.
She wasn’t under any illusions that Sienna believed she could do this alone. Nina knew it would be the hardest thing she ever faced. Mr. Thomas was going to come back for her again. Because there was no way Nina was going to give up this fight.
And neither would he.
That was why she couldn’t rely on Wyatt either. She wasn’t going to be party to another death. Nina didn’t need that on her conscience. Besides, why would Wyatt want someone like her? Nina wasn’t a catch. She was a thirtysomething retired CIA agent starting her life over from scratch. All she really had was a bank account—money her parents had left her, plus what she’d earned in the last ten years when she’d had extremely low overhead, sharing a condo with Sienna.
Dead End Page 4
