by Mary Stone
Was this about money? Her family had always been financially comfortable. The combined incomes of her mother and father put them solidly in the upper-middle class, and even when her father was furloughed on a couple occasions in the past, they held their finances together. What could any of them possibly owe to someone like this man?
“You have the wrong person,” she finally managed. “This isn’t right. Please, you’ve got the wrong person. Just let me go, and I swear, I won’t say anything. Just, just let me take Jon to a hospital. I’ll say we were mugged, that we didn’t see who did it. I’m not the person you want, okay? But if you just let us go, we can pretend like none of this happened.”
With the same unsettling chuckle, he shook his head. “No, we have the right person. You are Natalie Falkner, and your husband is Jonathan Falkner.”
“There must be others with the same name,” she wheezed. Her parents were as straitlaced as they came, and her brother had graduated high school at the top of his class. Ethan was a quiet, thoughtful young man, and there was no way in hell he’d be mixed up with any of this.
But she had a half-brother too. She had only met him on a handful of occasions, but she knew he was in law enforcement. No. Not just law enforcement. Noah Dalton was a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
“You don’t want my father.” Her voice was stronger now. Panicked. Too loud. She didn’t care. “You have to have him confused with someone else. With…with Noah Dalton. My father’s a pilot. Please, you’ve got the wrong person. You want Noah, my half-brother. I-I can help you, just, please. Help him.” With a pleading look, she tilted her chin toward Jon’s still form.
Another chuckle. The sound was devoid of mirth, and his smirk was as chilling an expression as she had ever seen. “I do not make mistakes, and you are already helping me. See him?” Brows raised, the Russian extended a hand to point at Jon. “He is the message. And you, Natalie, you are…how do you say it?” He paused to snap his fingers, but she could tell it was just an act. “Collateral. You are collateral.”
“Collateral?” The word felt almost foreign on her tongue. “What does that mean? Collateral for what? What are you talking about? You want Noah, not me, not my father. Not Jon!”
Some of the grim amusement vanished from his eyes as he lowered his arm. “No. Eric Dalton has seven days to keep his word, or you will die just as your husband will die. We shall discover during that time how much your father loves you, yes?”
The rusted, metal door at his back was latched closed to block both sight and sound from the world beyond, but she was out of options.
“Help!” she yelled, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Please, someone, help! My husband has been shot!”
With a groan, the Russian rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket. The polished steel of the handgun glinted in the eerie light, but he held the weapon by the barrel as he approached.
Fear became a living thing that crept over her like a hungry beast. “No, please, no!”
The pleas fell on deaf ears.
He didn’t bother to reply before he snapped his arm forward to smash the grip of the weapon into her temple. A burst of white light flooded her periphery, and then the world was still.
2
Though Winter Black only heard half the conversation, she could tell that Noah’s late-night phone call was more than some random drunk dial. What time was it anyway?
As she watched her friend and fellow FBI partner, Noah Dalton, pace his apartment, his body language was as tense as she’d ever seen it. When he practically growled at whoever had called, she glanced down to her phone and pushed herself to sit.
She could scarcely believe the text notification on her screen. The IT department at the Federal Bureau of Investigation had sent her a message:
Email location confirmed. Origination: Harrisonburg, Virginia
Her heart hammered in her chest as she read the message a second time. Could it be true?
The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s computer gurus were letting her know that the email she’d received at the end of the Schmidt investigation a few weeks ago—the email from her baby brother—had been sent from her hometown. The same town where her parents had been brutally murdered, and the same town where her little brother had been taken from their family home in the middle of the night. Taken by Douglas Kilroy, The Preacher. The same man who had butchered her parents in their bed had stolen away with six-year-old Justin Black in the middle of that horrific night.
Then, out of the blue, she’d received an email that read simply, “Hey, sis. Heard you’ve been looking for me.”
Now that she had learned the location of the email’s origin, there was no doubt in her mind. The message had been sent by Justin. To Winter, there could be no alternative explanation.
“What do you mean?” Noah’s voice jerked her out of the grim reverie. He had paused in the middle of his pacing, and the flickering light of the television caught the silver band of his watch as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
A tinny voice responded to the inquiry, but try as she might, Winter couldn’t make out the words. She tucked her knees up to her chest and leaned back against the couch. She could only hope that the call was unimportant and that Noah’s mounting frustration was just the result of being roused from sleep at such a late hour.
As she reluctantly locked the screen of her phone, she kept her vacant stare on the coffee table.
She didn’t need to be nosy, she reminded herself. If the call was important, Noah would give her a rundown of the conversation when it was over. Forcing her attention back to the television, she combed the fingers of one hand through her disheveled hair.
For some reason, the feel of the long strands made her think of her friend, Dr. Autumn Trent, whose deep shade of auburn was a stark contrast to Winter’s black locks.
Autumn had recently gained her doctoral degree in forensic psychology and had helped them solve their last case.
What advice would Autumn give her now? Winter wondered. Would she agree that the email must have come from Justin? Or would she think that Winter was reaching for the conclusion her heart wanted most?
Except, Winter didn’t actually know what her heart wanted when it came to her little brother.
More than anything, she wanted to find him alive and happy, but in the secret recesses of her heart, she worried about what she would actually find.
The boy would have been raised by a monster, after all. Some psychopaths were born, but some were made.
Was that her brother?
Winter closed her eyes, trying not to imagine how the past thirteen years of his life had been. Had Justin witnessed other atrocious acts that the FBI knew nothing about? Other murders where The Preacher didn’t leave his signature so the boy could learn? Or participate? Had he sat on Douglas Kilroy’s knee, listening with rapt attention about how the world was filled with sinners, and how it was Justin’s duty to eliminate them all from this earth?
The thought made Winter shiver, and she opened her eyes when Noah spat, “I’m shocked,” the words dripping with a biting sarcasm she didn’t often witness in him.
As Winter’s attention shifted from thoughts of her brother to Noah, she let out a long breath. Whatever happened or didn’t happen in her search for Justin, she had friends. She was no longer alone.
“Fine,” Noah growled. “Text me the flight information, and I’ll pick you up from the airport.”
As intent as she had been to not listen in on his call, the statements had her ears perking up. Who was Noah talking to? What was making him so unhappy?
A few seconds later, Noah tossed his phone onto the couch but continued to pace.
Winter cleared her throat. “You okay?” She made sure to keep her tone gentle. She might not have paid attention to the full extent of his conversation, but she could tell when Noah was agitated.
The shadows moved along his face as he clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I
’m not really sure.”
So many thoughts whipped through her mind, she had a difficult time picking one on which she wanted to focus.
She wanted to ask him about how or why she had fallen asleep at his side for the second time, and she wanted to know what the sleeping situation meant for the future of their friendship. At the same time, she felt as though she needed to tell him what the IT department had just confirmed about Justin’s email.
But when he dropped his hand back down to his side, she saw a glint in his eyes that she could only describe as a cross between irritation and melancholy.
She swallowed the trepidation about their relationship and about Justin’s email as she straightened in her seat.
“Who was it?” Though her voice was quiet, the words cut through the still air like a gunshot.
Heaving another sigh, Noah flopped back onto the couch. He slowly shook his head. “I don’t really know what to call him.”
Winter turned to face him more fully. “What?”
Well, that ruled out Max or anyone else at the bureau.
With one hand, he rubbed his eyes. “Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s all right. It’s not work, at least not technically. I can tell you about it tomorrow. You should head home and get some sleep.”
Winter bit her tongue to keep her exasperated sigh at bay. “I guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine, aren’t I?”
His green eyes flicked to her as he flashed her a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“It’s pretty obvious it’s not ‘all right,’ and if you think I can just go home and fall asleep after this, you’ve lost your damn mind. You remember when I used to do that to you, right? Keep all that shit to myself and bottle it up until it made my head explode?” She didn’t pause to consider the irony of those words.
“Oh.” He shifted his gaze back to the coffee table and ran a hand through his hair. As the unease lifted from his face, he opened his mouth to elaborate, but she cut him off.
“No.” She shook her head for emphasis. “No, I know that look. I know that look means you’re about to go on a spiel about something to defend yourself. So help me, Noah, if you’re about to try to tell me how this is different than when I was keeping stuff from you, I’m going to shove you off this damn couch.”
She ignored the flicker of amusement on his face at her less than menacing threat. She would tell him about the email, but this was not the time or the place. Though she could tell he had masked part of his frustration, she hadn’t missed the pang of melancholy that had gone along with the irritability. There would be a better time to bring up the topic of Justin, she just had to wait for it.
Crossing her arms, she flashed him a look. “You just got a phone call at one in the morning from someone that doesn’t have anything to do with work, and now you look like you just saw a ghost. Nothing about that says ‘it’s all right’ to me. I get it, you know. You know I had a hard day, and you don’t want to tell me because you think I’m dealing with enough already. But I can deal with whatever’s going on in my head and be your friend at the same time.”
His defensiveness appeared to slip away in the quiet moments that followed. The first hint of a wistful smile was on his lips as he turned his vacant stare away from the hall and to her.
As he spread his hands, he shrugged. “You’re right. I already know I won’t be getting back to sleep, so I don’t know why I thought it’d be any different for you.”
Every second of silence that followed his words was just short of unbearable. But as much as she wanted to reiterate her concern, as much as she wanted to prod him for an answer, she bit back the slew of questions.
“That call.”
At the quiet sound of his voice, she snapped her attention away from the clock to meet his gaze.
“I still don’t really know what to call that guy.” He shrugged, clearly at a loss. “Haven’t heard a damn word from him in years, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t on purpose. That was Eric Dalton.”
Winter scanned through her mental Rolodex. “Dalton?”
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t recall any in-depth conversations where he had mentioned members of his father’s side of the family. She knew his family history was complicated, but she had never pried into the specifics. For the most part, he didn’t mention them, and Winter didn’t ask.
“Yeah. He’s my biological father. He ditched me, my sister, and Mom when I was little, five or six. I don’t know why he split, but if I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with a pretty lady he knocked up in Baltimore. And considering Natalie’s only a couple years younger than me, I’d say that happened while he was still married to my mom. Don’t know why in the hell it took him so long to leave, but once he did, he was gone.”
Winter’s heart squeezed in compassion. “Ahh, I’m sorry.”
Noah lifted a nonchalant shoulder, although the expression on his face was a clear indication that he still held strong feelings regarding their abandonment. It made Winter’s heart ache for him even more.
“My sister and I would see him once or twice a year for holidays, but whenever we stayed with him and his new wife and kids, it was pretty obvious we didn’t belong. They lived in some cookie-cutter house in the ‘burbs, part of a homeowner’s association. Storybook shit.”
She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I know the type.”
The scowl was back. “One year, when I was in eighth grade and my sister was a sophomore, we just stopped going to visit him. Honestly, I don’t even think he noticed. Ever since then, I’ve maybe talked to him a grand total of five times. Once in person, the other ones on the phone.”
“Wow.” Winter tucked one leg beneath herself, twisting her hands together to stop from reaching for him. “What an asshole. I’m sorry. I mean, I knew he was an ass, but I didn’t know how bad it was.”
“Don’t worry about it, darlin’. My sister and I had Chris, and we still had Mom. Even compared to when Eric was actually around, my stepfather was a way better dad. You know, one of these days, you’ll have to come with me when I visit home so you can meet them. Plus, if you want a tattoo, my sister’s shop is one of the best in Austin.”
Winter gaped at him. “Your sister is a tattoo artist?”
His face brightened as he laughed at her awestruck remark. “Wouldn’t guess, huh? Yeah, she’s been tattooing people since she got out of the Navy. Her and my mom are both artists, but I guess it skipped me.”
She couldn’t seem to make her mouth close. “That’s no kidding. I’ve played Pictionary with you before, remember?”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I have other skills that I can do with my hands.”
Something deep and low in her belly twisted as she tried to not think of what all those skills were. She punched his shoulder. “Be serious. And I’m seriously sorry that your stepfamily was so shitty.”
Another shrug. “There are kids out there who grow up without a dad or a father figure, but I never felt that way. I never felt like my family was ‘broken’ or whatever else people want to call it. Honestly, this random-ass phone call is more weird and annoying than anything else.”
Leaning back in her seat, Winter tugged at the ends of her long hair. “Now that you explain it, yeah. It seems a little weird. What did he want? I doubt he called to apologize for being an asshole.”
“No, he sure didn’t,” Noah muttered. “He said he needed my help, something about how he fucked up and now he thought someone was trying to kill him. And guess what…?” He looked at her expectantly.
“What?”
“He’s catching the first flight into Richmond this morning.”
Winter chewed on the edge of her thumbnail. “He seriously thinks someone’s trying to kill him, and his first thought is to fly to Richmond to ask for help from the son he hasn’t talked to in literally years? Does he think he’ll get some kind of special treatment just because his biological son is in the FBI?”
He gr
owled low in his throat. “Probably. That’s all I can think of. I don’t know why else he wouldn’t just go to the cops in Baltimore. Either that, or he’ll ask me for money when he gets here.”
“But isn’t he a pilot? And aren’t pilots pretty loaded? Has he asked you for money before?”
Noah scrubbed his face with his hands. “No, but I wouldn’t put anything past him at this point.”
“I don’t suppose he mentioned why he’s in trouble? Or who he’s in trouble with?”
“Said he didn’t want to go into detail on the phone.”
Winter fought against an eye roll. “Why? Was he worried that the FBI was spying on him?”
Shaking his head, Noah reached to readjust the band of his vintage watch. “Who knows. I don’t even really know what in the hell he thinks he’ll get from coming out here.”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him, right?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah.”
“Maybe he’s changed. I don’t mean a total one-eighty, but maybe he’s not that same asshole you remember. Maybe he’s just a little less of an asshole.” Even as the words left her lips, Winter didn’t believe her own bullshit. The mention of Eric’s poor treatment of Noah and his sister had brought out an unexpected pang of something close to maternal that made her want to soothe all his hurts away.
Noah gave her a you’ve got to be kidding me look.
She lifted both hands in surrender. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough. That was dumb.”
As much as she wanted to paint an optimistic picture of the upcoming reunion with Eric Dalton, the petulance in Noah’s voice whenever he mentioned the man was unmistakable. She knew the knee-jerk comments about positivity and change were to help her friend, but she also knew that she trusted his judgment. If he still held on to so much hostility after all these years, then there was a damn good reason for it.
