Take the Key and Lock Her Up

by LENA DIAZ,

  “Is there a sketch of the man who tortured Mrs. Hawley?” Devlin asked.

  “Yes, but I’m afraid it’s not of much value. Her abductor wore a hat and kept his face concealed much of the time, or kept the room dark when he was with her. We have a vague description. The only things she felt certain of were that he was Caucasian, about six feet tall, and had no tattoos or distinguishing marks.”

  She would have expected him to look relieved that Hawley’s description, even though it was vague, ruled Devlin out. Instead, he looked disappointed at the lack of information.

  As the sketch of the woman Hawley had seen slowly made its way around the room, Emily slid a photograph out from the folder. “One of the detectives on the case was assigned to compare basic statistics from the coroner’s preliminary autopsy report—sex, height, approximate age—to our missing persons reports. He found two reports that met the basic criteria. And since we encourage families to provide us the dental records with each missing persons report, he was able to immediately have the coroner compare the records to the victims. We have a match.”

  She handed the photograph to Matt. “The woman who was wearing Carolyn’s jewelry was Shannon Fisher. Even if her name isn’t familiar, I’d like each of you to look at her picture and tell me if you’ve ever seen her or met her in the past. We’re trying to figure out if there’s a link between her and your family because of the jewelry.”

  Matt carefully studied the photo. “If she was a skeleton when she was found, she must have been dead for quite some time. When did her family report her missing?”

  “Four months ago, which also correlates closely to when the coroner thinks she was killed.”

  “Four months? The jewelry was stolen four months ago too. He must have stolen the jewelry right before he kidnapped Miss Fisher and then placed it on her body.”

  “It’s certainly one of the theories we’re exploring,” she said.

  He passed the photo to his brother, sitting on the U part of the couch arrangement. When the photo reached Devlin, Austin wheeled his chair beside him. But instead of looking at the picture, Austin stared at Devlin.

  Emily glanced back and forth between them. “Does one of you recognize the victim?”

  Devlin flicked a glance at Austin before handing the picture to Emily. “Sorry, no.”

  Austin stared at him another moment, then wheeled back to the end of Emily’s couch.

  “What about you?” she asked. “For a moment there, I thought you recognized her.”

  He shrugged. “She was beautiful. I couldn’t help but stare.”

  He’d barely looked at the picture. Was he covering something up? She waited, but he didn’t say anything else.

  “No one recognized either of these women?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, no.” Pierce looked at his siblings for confirmation. “I wish there was something we could do to help.”

  Emily watched Devlin, but his face gave nothing away. She sighed and put the sketch and photograph back into the folder. “Thank you for looking. I appreciate your time and your patience, especially after everything that happened today. My condolences on the loss of your mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll head back to town. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”

  “Detective,” Matt said, “if you can spare us a few more minutes, I’d like to point out some things before you go.”

  “Of course.”

  He clasped his hands in front of him, his forearms resting on his thighs. “From what I’ve heard, there isn’t any physical evidence of involvement by anyone in this family. Is that correct?”

  “I assure you, if that wasn’t the case, I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now.”

  He grinned. “Point taken. Well then, it’s seems obvious to me that our family is being targeted, or baited, by this killer.”

  Emily had thought the same thing. “What makes you say that?”

  Matt held up his hand, ticking off his fingers as he spoke. “First, it seems obvious the thief’s goal in breaking into Carolyn’s home was to steal those specific pieces of jewelry.”

  Emily shrugged, not willing to share her own conclusions.

  “Second, if his goal was to kill a woman and leave the jewelry on her body, he could have done that anywhere—including the town where Carolyn lived. Why choose to kill his victim in Savannah, just a few miles from my father’s house, where officials would quickly make the connection between the names engraved on the jewelry and our family? There’s only one answer I can think of. The killer wanted our family to know about the jewelry, and the murders.”

  “Possibly,” Emily allowed.

  “Since he couldn’t have planned on you seeing him at the same time that Devlin was driving down the road near that house, and that Devlin would hear you on the police scanner and decide to help you, it’s logical to assume the killer didn’t specifically intend for Devlin—or any of us—to discover the body with the jewelry. But I think he would have eventually made sure to alert someone about the body if no one found it on their own. He wanted that jewelry found. He knew it would be traced back to our family eventually, and we’d be notified.”

  None of this surprised her or was something she hadn’t already thought of. But she hadn’t made any conclusions yet about the killer’s reasons for what he’d done.

  “Why do you think the killer would do that?” she asked.

  “He wanted to torture Alex,” Devlin interjected. “Obviously, since the police thought the dead woman was Carolyn; Shannon was a perfect match for her in height, sex, and hair color. The killer knew the police would jump to the conclusion that that woman was Carolyn. Maybe he actually wanted to kill Carolyn, but her accident stole the opportunity from him. His next best strategy was to kill someone who resembled her so the one person who cared the most about her would be led to believe Carolyn was tortured and murdered. He’s playing a game, a sick, deadly game. He enjoys torturing and killing women, but they’re really just pawns to obtain his true goal.”

  “And what is that goal?” Emily asked.

  “I think he wants to hurt Alex—to cause him pain and suffering. He’s probably someone from Alex’s past, perhaps a former client who went to prison and blamed Alex for not defending him properly. Now he’s out and looking for revenge. He wants Alex to suffer like he suffered, and then he wants Alex to pay for his perceived sins with the ultimate penalty—his life.”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  DEVLIN LEANED AGAINST the railing on his father’s back deck. He wasn’t interested in the vast field that served as the yard, or the pond clogged with cattails and lily pads, or even the thick woods beyond that. It was the majesty and beauty of the night sky out here in the country, without the light pollution of the city to obscure the thousands of stars, that fed his soul, that soothed away the hurt, the doubts, the aching loneliness of the life he’d chosen.

  When he was on a mission, he’d often look up before turning in for the night and remember this same view from his father’s house. He’d think of his family, imagining them back home, looking up at the same inky blackness, the same brilliant stars, the same sliver of moon. It made him feel more connected to them.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight, even though his family was less than thirty feet away, the distance separating them had never felt so vast.

  After O’Malley had left, it was too difficult to stay inside and face the guilt and anxious conversation between his brothers and sisters-in-law about how to protect Alex—especially since Devlin didn’t really believe Alex was the target. No, his instincts told him the killer had a completely different goal in mind. And from the accusing looks Austin had been giving him since that picture of Shannon had been passed around, Devlin suspected his little brother had come to the same conclusion.

  The killer was targeting Devlin.

  The sliding glass door opened behind him. His hands tightened on the railing even before the sound of wheels rolling
across the wood floor confirmed that it was Austin who was intruding on his solitude. The upcoming confrontation was inevitable. But Devlin had hoped for a few more minutes alone before being forced to lie to his family once again. He blew out a long sigh and was just starting to turn around when a stinging blow to his hip slammed him against the railing.

  He frowned at his brother, whose fist was still balled up, as if he wanted to let another punch fly.

  “What was that for?”

  “As if you didn’t know. What were you thinking, Devil? Lying to a cop? You know she’s going to find out eventually that you knew Shannon.”

  He forced a nonchalant shrug. “I didn’t see the point of bringing that up.”

  Austin snorted. “We were just talking about her in the kitchen, or had you forgotten? You were lovers. Why would you lie about that?”

  “I didn’t lie, not outright. I just didn’t admit I knew her. Which is the same thing you did.”

  “Because I followed your lead. It was obvious you didn’t want to tell Detective O’Malley you knew the victim. What gives? I know you didn’t have anything to do with her death. So why not get the facts out in the open? It will only look worse later, once the truth comes out.”

  Devlin turned and stared up at the sky again. He needed a minute. Just one more damn minute before he faced the elephant in the room.

  Austin wheeled up to the railing. But he didn’t say anything else, not yet, as if sensing Devlin needed to collect himself. It had always been that way between them. Austin, with his rare neurological disorder and resulting dark moods, seemed to recognize the darkness in Devlin, even if he didn’t understand it, or know just how dark Devlin’s soul had become.

  When Devlin finally faced his brother, Austin looked up at him.

  “What’s really going on?” he asked quietly. “If I didn’t know about Shannon, I might have bought that load of crap you were shoveling in there, trying to convince us that you think some twisted killer is after Alex. But I don’t buy that. And I don’t think you do either. What were you trying to do? Get everyone to focus on Alex and his supposed enemy instead of focusing on you?”

  Yes. Devlin forced a laugh. But inside he was anything but amused. This was the worst part of his job, lying to people who cared about him. But it was also necessary. Not just to protect himself but to protect his family. As long as they knew nothing about EXIT Inc., they were safe. That was part of the code all enforcers lived by—families were off-limits as long as they weren’t a threat to EXIT’s mission of saving lives.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he said.

  “No, it isn’t. I’ve been thinking about what happened today. There are too many coincidences going on here. Adding Shannon into the mix kicks it over the top into unbelievable territory. I have a theory. Want to hear it?”

  “Not particularly.” Devlin turned to go back into the house.

  Austin cut him off and blocked his way. “I lied to that cop to cover for you. The least you can do is listen to what I have to say.”

  He was right. Devlin owed him that much. He glanced through the glass door. Madison was standing in the middle of the room ticking off points on her fingers, much as Matt had earlier. No telling what kind of crazy plan she was coming up with. All to save Alex, who didn’t even need saving.

  Retreating to the railing, Devlin leaned against it and affected a bored look. “Fine. Tell me your theory if it makes you feel better.”

  Austin cocked his head sideways. “For argument’s sake, I’ll assume it really was a coincidence that you just happened to be close by when O’Malley saw that guy with Hawley, and that you went into the basement to save her. But I don’t have to be a brainiac math major like Matt to know that the odds of you then happening to see the bad guy’s truck on a secluded side road an hour later are just about zero. Why would that guy still be hanging around the area to be discovered?”

  That was the question, wasn’t it? It had been bothering Devlin from the moment he’d spotted the other truck. He shrugged and threw out his own theory, even though—once again—he didn’t believe it.

  “The cops set up checkpoints on the major highways. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He was traveling the back roads to find a hiding place.”

  “This is the guy you killed, right? You haven’t even mentioned him. Not at the police station. Not since coming home. The only reason I know about him is because Dad told us what happened once I got home tonight. You killed someone, Dev. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  Yes, but only because Devlin couldn’t interrogate the creep to find out the name of his partner. Killing animals like that guy—men who hurt innocent people, especially women—would never make Devlin lose any sleep. Since he didn’t think he could pretend he had remorse when he didn’t, he remained silent.

  “Tell me about him,” Austin prodded. “Was he big like you?”

  “Not especially. Why?”

  “Did he have a gun? A knife?”

  Did he? Devlin didn’t remember any weapons. But then again, he hadn’t given the guy a chance to draw on him even if he’d had a gun.

  “Where are you going with this, Austin?”

  “Dad told us the big picture about what happened before you got home, but he didn’t tell us all the details. As your attorney, he had to have been given more information in order to make his case to the DA so they’d let you go. This isn’t Dad’s first case. I know the drill, how all this stuff works. And I figured he got his hands on the facts that are pertinent to the case against you.”

  “Ah, hell.” Devlin crossed his arms. “You picked the lock on his briefcase, didn’t you? I thought you stopped doing that sort of thing when you were fifteen and Dad tanned your hide with a switch.”

  “Nope. I just got more careful after that. Like I said, I know the drill. Yes, I opened his briefcase. And I learned a few things you may not know.”

  In spite of Devlin’s goal to end their conversation as quickly as possible, he couldn’t resist the carrot Austin had just dangled in front of him. “What things?”

  “Hawley’s initial statement. She said the guy you killed was a lightweight, a pawn, someone the real bad guy used as his lackey to cart his victims from place to place. Which of course means if this guy was caught, he could identify the guy he worked for.” He stared up at Devlin and waited, as if to make sure everything was sinking in. It was definitely sinking, like quicksand.

  “Why would the guy calling all the shots risk having Hawley out in the open?” Austin asked. “Did you know that Hawley said the driver kept going up and down the same road in front of that house for over an hour before O’Malley spotted him?”

  Devlin’s fingers tightened painfully around the railing. He had to force himself to loosen his grip. “No. I didn’t know that.” And he hadn’t. But now that he did, the events of this morning were fitting together even more perfectly than they had before, reinforcing his working theory.

  Someone was trying to destroy him.

  “Why do you think he did that? Drove up and down that road?”

  “I have no idea.” Liar.

  “I think he was waiting for someone,” Austin said. “Like you. Or O’Malley. Or both.”

  “And why would he do that?”

  “Because his boss told him to. You said whoever left that corpse with the jewelry in the basement wanted it found. And that he wanted our family to know about it. What better way to ensure that happened than to have a Buchanan discover the body?”

  Sometimes Austin’s insight was almost scary. Then again, he was Matt’s twin, and Matt was a brilliant investigator. If Austin shared this information with Matt, there’d be no way to stop his family from trying to dig into Devlin’s life and figure out who was after him. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Austin was waiting for his answer. Right now, Devlin didn’t have any answers, not even lies. He glanced through the sliding glass doors again. Alex was in the family room now, his sons and daughters-in-law surrounding
him. Pierce appeared to be the spokesperson for the group as he apparently broke the news about Carolyn. Tessa and Madison stood behind Alex, both with a hand on one of his shoulders, as if to offer him strength. Devlin and Austin should be in there with them, offering their father comfort. But Devlin didn’t think he had any comfort left to give.

  “Ready for my entire theory?”

  Dreading whatever his astute brother was about to say, Devlin braced himself and gave Austin his full attention. “I’m not sure I could stop you if I tried. Go on. Get it over with.”

  Seemingly undeterred by Devlin’s abrupt response, Austin moved closer, his wheels almost hitting Devlin’s knees.

  “You’re the only one in this family who uses that road in front of the house where those bodies were found to get here. And even though I tease you about being a tour guide, I know you’re trained to keep your clients safe in any situation. You’re basically a survivalist, a bodyguard. Someone who knows how to defend himself in a fight. And when you and Hawley’s abductor fought in those woods, you were forced to kill him to save your own life.”

  Devlin winced at that incorrect observation. Bodyguard? Sometimes, yes. But usually Devlin was the one other men feared, the exact opposite of a bodyguard. He’d even designed his own tools of the trade to make killing easier, more efficient. His signature garrote was impossible for the victim to remove once the wire wrapped around their neck. Somehow he didn’t think Austin would still think he was a good person if he knew about that.

  He’d traded his soul for the chance to save countless innocent lives. He had no regrets. But he had no illusions either. He’d learned a long time ago that the only way to fight true evil and win was to become just as evil as his prey. And Devlin was one of the best at what he did.

  “Bottom line,” Austin said, “how hard would it be for someone who knows you to realize you go to Dad’s every Friday around the same time when you’re in town? Ask yourself if the most direct route from your house to Dad’s is down that little two-lane road in front of the house where those victims were found. Ask yourself if someone you know also knows that you listen to a police scanner all the time. Sure, it’s a hobby, but don’t your friends—or, in this case, your enemies—know about your hobbies too?”