‘There’s a box of photos in the master bedroom. Callie McCormick and the women from the other cases are all in it.’ It was Cord’s turn to pull out his phone, and he handed it over to her, tapping on the screen until an image appeared.
Her brows knit together in confusion. ‘What is that?’ she asked.
‘That,’ Cord said, ‘is a prosthetic. If you zoom in, what you’ll see are a few other props that can transform a middle-aged man into a much older man.’
‘So, we were right. Evan Bishop and Hunter Jenkins are the same person,’ she said.
Cord nodded. ‘Yep.’ He reached over and swiped to the next image. ‘And those,’ he tapped his finger, ‘are articles about your brother’s murder wallpapering Evan Bishop’s bedroom.’
Alyssa tried to process everything flying at her. She itched to be inside, needing to see all this for herself. What did it all mean?
A noise behind her distracted her, and she snapped her head around as she peered into the trees. Hand on her gun, she swept her gaze around, and just as she took a step in that direction, a large deer jumped out and took off. She removed her hand from the gun and placed it over her pounding heart. ‘Good lord, that scared the hell out of me,’ she muttered.
At the same time, her phone rang. She glanced down to see who was calling. The medical examiner’s name flashed on the screen. ‘It’s Lynn Sharp,’ she told Cord when he asked. ‘Maybe she got the results back from the DNA profile.’ She swiped to answer. ‘Hello.’
Hearing nothing but static mixed in with incomprehensible words, Alyssa held her phone out to check her signal. Two bars. It was fine when she’d called Brock, so why was she having an issue now? She moved a few steps closer to the house and tried again. ‘Hello?’
Lynn still cut in and out, but she could hear her better. ‘… results… I… tell you this.’
‘I’m sorry, Lynn. You’re cutting out. Say that again?’
This time the medical examiner’s words came in clearly. ‘Alyssa, the DNA we extracted from the skin cells found beneath Callie McCormick’s fingernails came back.’
‘And?’ she asked when Lynn paused.
‘And I think you should be sitting down for this.’
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Tuesday, April 9, 4:00 p.m.
Alyssa raced home, barreling through her door as Lynn Sharp’s words replayed on a loop in her mind.
‘We ran the profile through a national database. There’s a 99.9% probability that Callie McCormick’s killer is related to you.’ She’d paused. ‘As in a sibling.’
Suddenly, recent events began to take on a new light, even as she denied what was right in front of her. She wanted there to be a logical, more reasonable – more acceptable – answer.
Upstairs, she pulled out the articles outlining the day Timmy’s body had been found. Over and over she read them. But other than the items which had belonged to her brother, there was nothing definitive in saying the body had belonged to him. They had all just assumed.
Her breathing came heavier as she sank onto her bed, her eyes landing on the nightstand. She leaned over and pulled open the drawer… and found the photo album she kept in there missing. Further proof he’d been in her house before Isaac had been kidnapped.
Her skin felt tight as wave after wave of remorse and regret and anger washed over her. When her phone rang, she glanced down to see it was Brock. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hi. Is everything okay?’ he asked. ‘I just saw I missed a call from you.’
Alyssa pressed a fist to her chest. ‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ she lied. ‘I was mostly just checking on you and the kids, making sure you’re all at your mom’s.’ She longed to tell him what she now suspected… she refused to say knew, longed for him to be there and help hold her together as she tried to sort out this puzzle that had turned into a nightmare.
‘We’re all here,’ Brock said now. ‘Mom’s about to make meatloaf. Mmmm.’
She couldn’t help it. She laughed a little. ‘You know, it would probably make your life so much easier if you just told her how much you hate it?’
‘True. But unlike you, I’m kind of a coward.’
‘Only when it comes to your mother,’ she said. And then, ‘All right, babe. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I… finish… up here.’ She hesitated. ‘I love you. All of you.’
She knew she’d alarmed her husband because his voice turned serious. ‘Lys? Are you sure everything’s okay?’
She let her eyes wander around their room as she lied once again. ‘Yes. Just tired. But I really do have to go now.’
They said their goodbyes, and a few minutes later, Alyssa heard a noise downstairs. Rising off the bed, she slowly descended the steps, hand ready as it rested on her gun.
When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, thunder pounded in her ears as Evan Bishop stood with his back against her counter, grinning, the smile falling far short of his eyes.
‘Hello, sister. I guess you couldn’t get rid of me after all.’
Stars swam in front of her eyes as the blood rushed from her face. She didn’t want to believe what she was seeing, what was right in front of her. It couldn’t be; it just wasn’t possible.
Lynn Sharp’s words echoed in her head again. 99.9% chance Callie McCormick’s murderer is your sibling.
Alyssa swallowed. She watched his eyes follow her hand as she moved it from her gun to her pocket. ‘Timmy?’ She couldn’t stop the tremor in her voice. ‘You – you’re supposed to be dead.’ Less than ten feet separated her from the brother she’d believed had been murdered.
Evan laughed, a humorless sound. ‘Yes, I know. But supposed to be and actually being are two different things, aren’t they?’ A dark cloud covered his face. ‘And don’t ever call me Timmy. My name’s Evan now.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, shaking. ‘They found your body. Your bike, your clothes.’
‘No, they found Woody Pentel. Carl told me later what he’d done. He was trying to protect me.’
‘What? Protect you? No, Ti – Evan. He kidnapped you, murdered… we thought you were dead. It destroyed Mama. Your death left a hole in our family that could never be filled. We grieved.’ Alyssa’s voice was ragged, and she realized she was crying. Her fingers moved blindly in her pocket.
Evan advanced two steps before stopping, and that’s when she noticed the backpack on the counter behind him. His eyes followed hers, and he smiled again. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll get to that.’ This time he cocked one hip against the table, looking for all the world to be relaxed while Alyssa felt as if her world were crumbling all around her. Again.
‘Tell me something,’ he said conversationally. ‘Did you ever laugh about how easy it was? Did you, Mama, and Daddy have Kool-Aid toasts after Carl took me away? How long did it take before you cleaned out my room and erased all memories of me?’
More than anything, Alyssa wished this not to be happening, for this to be nothing more than a bad movie script. She changed the subject. ‘Those women you kidnapped and killed,’ she began. ‘Were they supposed to be me?’
Evan laughed. ‘Figured that out on your own, did you? I guess that’s what makes you an okay detective. Not a great one, obviously, seeing as how I broke into your house more than once – you and your boy were even here. I could’ve killed you then, but it would’ve been too quick,’ he said, his eyes narrowing.
Nausea rose up her throat at his words. ‘So, you kidnapped my son, too?’
‘I think you already know that answer,’ he said. Then he waved his hand around the room. ‘If he hadn’t escaped, I would’ve made sure you knew where to find him. I had it all planned out, how you would come to me, how I’d kill your precious boy in front of you the same way Carl killed that boy in front of me. Sliced his throat wide open and made me watch, forced me to stand there as that warm, sticky blood sprayed my face.’
It was harder to keep the bile down this time, but Alyssa managed. ‘I’m so sorry t
hat happened to you,’ she began, stunned when Evan’s fist reached out and hit her.
‘Shut up,’ he roared. ‘Just shut up.’ Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled. ‘After your kid got away, I came up with a better plan, one that would keep you alive long after I’d killed your precious little family,’ he sneered.
There was no way Alyssa would let this man harm her family, no matter what had happened to him. She pulled her hand from her pocket and moved it back to her weapon, but she was too late. Evan Bishop’s gun was already drawn and pointed directly at her chest.
‘Look at the bright side, sister,’ he sneered. ‘You’ll get to die much more quickly than I’d hoped.’ He shoved off the table and advanced slowly. ‘But, don’t worry. I’ll make sure I get your family, too.’
Alyssa’s training kicked in, and without conscious thought, her right leg kicked out, sweeping both his legs from underneath him. He wasn’t expecting the move, and as his weight carried him to the ground, he automatically reached out an arm to protect his face from the fall, and his grip on the gun loosened.
Her body still acting on instinct, she kicked the gun away with her foot and then moved in before he could roll over, pressing one knee into his back as she struggled to wrest his arms behind him. Seconds that felt like hours later, Cord was gently pulling her up as he and several officers rushed through the doors, weapons drawn.
As she stood staring down at Evan Bishop, her eyes clouded with tears, and she was grateful her partner supported her weight as her knees threatened to crumble beneath her. ‘It worked. I got it all,’ she whispered, pulling a mini recorder from her pocket and handing it over to Cord.
‘You bitch! I’ll kill you for this. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you?’ Evan roared, his enraged face turning purple as veins popped out on his temples. He was still screaming as Joe read him his rights and hauled him out to the police cruisers that had pulled in after watching him ‘sneak’ into Alyssa’s home.
Only when Joe pulled away did she allow herself to collapse to her knees and release the gut-wrenching agony that held her hostage.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Tuesday, April 9, 7:30p.m.
Breaking news cut into scheduled programs at seven thirty that night. Alyssa stood alongside her team, squeezing her fists tight, pushing her nails into the palms of her hands to avoid smashing them into the television that broadcast today’s events like it was a must-see movie. She watched the reporter breathlessly discussing the capture of the man they’d nicknamed the ‘Two-Faced Killer.’ It was stupid and insulting, but there was no stopping the media when it came to grabbing headlines, regardless of whom it might affect. Behind her, Cord growled, ‘I’d like to get my hands on the jackass who leaked this.’
A chorus of ‘Get in line’ and ‘After me’ reverberated throughout the room. The fact that their jobs had just got infinitely more difficult because someone had a big mouth and wanted to show everyone he or she was in the know was irritating. The circus parked outside the precinct doors, blocking too many cars from coming or going, was frustrating.
Yet, as unpleasant as all this was, it wasn’t nearly as tough as getting the angry call from Rafe McCormick. He’d raged, yelled, and cried for half an hour. He went from one end of the spectrum to the other, varying between bouts of name-calling to blubbering how grateful he was that authorities hadn’t rested until his wife’s murderer was caught. And Alyssa had taken it all, feeling each word like a barb in the heart.
As if that wasn’t headache-inducing enough, that wasn’t even the worst part. Someone had dredged up all the old articles about Timmy’s murder and shared them for the world to see. Social media had taken the story and run with it. Now that was the cherry on top, the icing on the cake.
Now everyone she worked with, save her team and the captain, snuck pitying glances her way, feeling sorry for poor little Alyssa. And she couldn’t even go for a drive to clear her head because the media vultures had every exit cornered. She was only mildly surprised they didn’t have reporters hanging off the window.
No longer able to stand being in the midst of all the raw emotion swirling about, Alyssa headed for the ladies’ room. Inside, she repeatedly slammed the stall door until she felt a tiny bit better. Finally, she washed her hands and splashed water on her face, not caring if her make-up streaked. When she stepped out of the security of the restroom, she stopped short. Cord waited for her outside the door.
‘That must’ve been quite a show,’ he said, nodding toward the restroom. ‘Kind of wish I could’ve seen it.’
‘Shut up,’ she bit out as she stalked away.
Cord fell into step beside her. Wordlessly, they headed to the snack machine. ‘I hate the looks people keep giving me,’ she whispered angrily. Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes. Between that and the alternating numbness she felt, she didn’t know how she was supposed to behave.
‘They just care, Alyssa.’ Cord held up his palm to stave off her argument. ‘I’m not saying it doesn’t suck. I’m just explaining why they’re doing it.’
She stalked past him and entered a small room where she watched through the two-way mirror, listening as Evan Bishop was interrogated. Her emotions were raw and conflicted. As a wife and mother, first and foremost, she wanted to storm the room, lunge across the table, and choke this man for what he had done to Isaac and the rest of her family. What he had wanted to do, what he had planned. The meager contents of her stomach threatened to reappear as her mind filled itself with images of what he’d threatened to do to Isaac.
As an officer of the law, she wanted to see him sent away for good for murdering all those women she now knew represented her and his hatred for her, even if he hadn’t realized at first that was why he was doing it. Shrinks across the state were going to have a field day with this. And Indiana was officially in on the action now, too. It was never-ending.
As nine-year-old Alyssa, she wanted to wrap her arms around this tortured man and promise to protect him this time.
She didn’t know if he knew she was watching, or if he’d just guessed, but he stared at the glass separating them, even as the officers in the room threw question after question at him. He hadn’t yet requested a lawyer, though they all knew it was coming. He looked simultaneously sad and confused while still filled with rage.
She couldn’t help it; her heart was ripped to shreds as it broke all over again. So much lost innocence. It was so unfair. For the first time, Alyssa was glad both her parents were dead and didn’t have to see this.
She watched as Evan slowly raised his cuffed hands and brought them to his face. He touched the bridge of his nose near the scar he had. He rubbed it, as if trying to send her a message of some kind. His nose was slightly bent, like it’d been broken at least once. Then, as Alyssa watched, he brought his fingers to his mouth and puffed on an imaginary cigarette.
Memories crashed through her, images of causing mischief and mayhem with Timmy, catching lightning bugs in jars with holes in the lid, watching them as they lit up the night sky, scolding him for pulling lights off their butts when he got bored of chasing the little insects.
She didn’t realize she was shaking or that Liz had arrived until she placed her arms around Alyssa and gently guided her from the room.
* * *
Not ten minutes after Liz pulled her from watching the interview, Alyssa’s family descended on the precinct like avenging angels, with Brock leading the charge, followed by Holly, then Isaac, and finally Mabel bringing up the rear as they all rushed into the conference room, now vacant except Alyssa, Cord, Liz, and Hal who had run everyone else out when she had returned to the room.
When the door opened, Alyssa’s head jerked that way, the sight of her family making her eyes film over with tears. She stood to meet them partway. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked. She’d managed to find a window of opportunity to call Brock explaining what had happened – leaving out the part where Bishop wanted to torture her family before killing th
em – shortly before the story broke on the news, but when he asked her if she wanted him to come to the precinct to be with her, she insisted she was fine, that she didn’t need him there, and she’d feel better if he stayed with the kids. She promised she’d head over to Mabel’s as soon as she could.
Clearly, his solution was to gather up everyone and drive here anyway. And thank goodness for that because she realized she really did need him. Unconcerned that anyone outside her team may view it as weak, she went willingly into her husband’s arms, closing her eyes briefly as she welcomed his strength, feeling it seep into her.
As she rested her head against his chest, Holly slid up beside her to nestle her head onto Alyssa’s shoulder as she hugged her. Alyssa opened her eyes and turned her head, catching Isaac’s gaze. His face was splotchy, the way it got whenever he was angry or upset, and his eyes were so red they appeared bloodshot. His arms and legs trembled as he met her stare, and when his bottom lip began to quiver, she pushed herself out of her husband’s arms, and went to him, enclosing as much of him in her embrace as she could.
Tears immediately began soaking through her shirt as sobs quaked through his body, and Alyssa held her son tighter until his cries became less severe. When he finally stepped back, he looked everywhere but at her, so she reached up to gently grasp his chin – when had he grown another two inches? – and tilted his head down toward her.
‘Isaac, please look at me,’ she whispered.
He sniffled but obeyed, his eyes once again filling with moisture. ‘I’m so sorry, Mom. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel right now.’ His words were broken and full of anguish, much like her own heart.
‘Oh sweetie. Come here.’ She led him to a chair and gently pushed him into it before rearranging her own so that it was facing him. Then she leaned in and enveloped him once more in her arms, rocking him back and forth as his emotions spilled over yet again.
All His Pretty Girls Page 29
