The Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Series Box Set 2

by Willow Rose

  “Why do I have the feeling this is not why you’re here?” Jamal suddenly asked just as the food arrived. I had to admit, I was quite jealous of Liam’s burger, but the crawfish was amazing too. Liam had told me I had to taste it here, and I was glad I got to.

  “You’re right,” Liam said and glanced at me like it was my cue. I wiped my mouth and fingers, then looked seriously at the boy.

  “This is FBI profiler, Eva Rae Thomas,” he said. “She’s here to warn you about something that we fear might happen to you.”

  “Technically, I’m not a profiler anymore,” I said. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is your life, Jamal, and I believe you are in serious danger.”

  Chapter 28

  “Do you know FaZeYourFeaRs?” I asked. “Do you know who’s behind that alias?”

  Jamal shook his head. “No. I teamed up with him yesterday for like five hours, but then he left, real sudden, and I had to finish on my own.”

  “Did he threaten you in any way?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Did he say anything to you in the chat?”

  “We spoke, but only about the game.”

  I could tell Jamal was shaken up. The latest story of Amal Bukhari and how she was shot on board that plane was scary to everyone. The fact that Jamal was black didn’t make it less frightening.

  “So…what do I do?” Jamal asked. “If the police come to my house, I can’t very well keep them from coming inside.”

  I bit my lip. “I’ll warn the local departments that this might happen, and hopefully they’ll listen to me. But I’m afraid it’s no guarantee. I warned the police before they got the call involving Liam’s son. Still, it went terribly wrong.”

  Jamal gave Liam a horrified look. “But…what do I do? I can’t just sit at home and wait for the police to show up and kill me.”

  “If they do show up, at least make sure you keep your hands up. Get to your knees immediately and keep your hands over your head at all times,” I said.

  Liam leaned forward. “But the thing is, once it goes down, once those body-armored men enter your house, you’re so terrified that you can’t think. It all goes so incredibly fast. You don’t know what you’re doing in the moment,” he said. He took a break to gather himself, and I felt a knot grow in my throat. “You don’t really think. You just act, and it gets really easily mistaken for a threat.”

  Jamal whimpered and leaned back in his chair. His fingers were fiddling with his phone, turning it between them.

  “But what do I do?”

  “Do you have somewhere you can go?” I asked. “Somewhere where no one knows where you are? In that way, when the call comes, and the police come to your house, you won’t be there.”

  “But my family will be. I live with my momma and sister.”

  “Take them. You just earned a lot of money, am I right? How about you take a trip for about a week or two? Go somewhere that you always wanted to. Or treat your mother to a nice trip. Maybe a cruise or something. I’m sure she deserves it.”

  Jamal’s face lit up. “I could do that. She always wanted to go to Canada.”

  “There you go,” I said. “Take the trip, and that way, when the police arrive, they’ll find the house empty.”

  “But what about school?” he asked. “I’ve already been absent way too much due to the competition and all the things they’ve wanted me to do afterward.”

  “Deal with that once you get back,” Liam said. “This is your life, and maybe even your mother’s and sister’s lives we’re talking about. Get out of here, now. Deal with the consequences later. I’m sure you can find an excuse, or maybe Eva Rae can write them a letter telling them the FBI told you to go.”

  “I can’t exactly do that,” I said. “Since I am no longer technically FBI, but I can write a letter testifying to the threat on you. No matter what, I’m sure you’ll get through it as long as you get out of this town immediately. Go home and pack, but tell no one where you’re going; do you hear me? No one. Not that agent of yours or your best friend or even a neighbor. Don’t tell your mother and sister where you’re going either. Say that it’s a surprise. And whatever you do, don’t go online while you’re there. No gaming and no live-streaming on Twitch. Stay low, go to the beach, enjoy your sister and mother. Survive this, Jamal, please.”

  Chapter 29

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come downstairs and hang out with the rest of us?”

  Matt stared at Elijah. The boy had come home from school, then run up to the room he shared with Eva Rae’s son Alex. He was now sitting at his computer that Matt had just bought for him to make him feel better about the move. Matt knew he missed his grandmother, and he was angry about having to live with Eva Rae and her children. He had hoped the expensive computer would help.

  So far, it hadn’t. So far, it had only made him stay in his room longer, and Matt had soon regretted buying it for him. Elijah didn’t even take off his headset or turn his head to look at Matt.

  Matt closed the door with a deep exhale, then walked down the stairs where all of Eva Rae’s three children were gathered eating snacks, fighting over who was supposed to feed the bunnies and who had played with them last, while Eva Rae’s mother was in the kitchen, cooking tonight’s dinner. Matt stood at the foot of the stairs, observing them all, then wondered what he was even doing there.

  He didn’t feel at home at all here, and Eva Rae wasn’t home again.

  “Where did she go this time?” her mother, Elizabeth, asked when Matt went in there and grabbed a beer from the fridge. It had been a calm day at the station, yet he felt exhausted. Maybe it was all that worrying about Eva Rae and what she was up to now. Was she with that Liam character?

  He shrugged and took the cap off. “She didn’t say. She just left a message on my voicemail and said she was so sorry, but she had to go. She hoped she’d be back before the weekend. She told me she’d explain everything to me later but that it was very urgent.”

  Her mother wrinkled her forehead. “She did the same to me. Told me she had to go for a couple of days, then asked me to take care of the children while she was gone, then she gave me the whole I am so sorry you know I am, and I wouldn’t do this to you if it weren’t important speech, and then she hung up before I could protest. She’s got some nerve, that daughter of mine.”

  Matt shrugged again. “I guess it must be important. She’s working on some case. She hasn’t told me the details of it, but I’m sure she will later.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head. “Poor you. She’s not exactly making things smooth for you, is she? The way she’s always rushing off to something. You have, after all, just moved in, and she barely takes any time to be with you.”

  Matt sipped his beer then nodded. “My guess is she needs it.”

  “How so?”

  “I think she has a strong need to save people. It feels more urgent than ever in her. Maybe because she couldn’t save Chad.”

  Elizabeth sent him a smile while blending cauliflower and carrots. Once she stopped the blender, she gave him another look.

  “You know, you could just tell him that he has to do it.”

  “Now, what are we talking about?”

  She looked toward the ceiling. “Elijah. You’re his dad. He’s nine years old. You can give him orders, you know. It’s your right and actually your duty to tell him what to do. It just might be what he needs.”

  “But he doesn’t want to come down here,” Matt said. “He just wants to play on that computer up there.”

  “Because no one tells him otherwise. You can’t keep asking him for permission to be his father, Matt. You gotta just own up to it. Yes, he’ll be upset with you, but isn’t that better than being ignored? Plus, he’ll get over it eventually. He’ll make your life miserable for a little while, but then again, he’s already doing that, so what do you have to lose? My guess is that he wants a family just as much as you do. He just doesn’t know how to tell you. He’s waiting for you
to make a move. It might not be pleasant to have to do it, but it can hardly get worse from here, am I right?”

  Matt drank from his beer again while Elizabeth put beets into the blender and turned it back on. While staring at her, pondering about what she had just told him and whether she could be right or not, he finished his beer. He put the empty bottle down and hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time. He opened the door to Elijah’s room without knocking, then walked straight to the boy and pulled off his headset. Elijah let out a whining sound, then turned to face Matt.

  “Hey! I was using those.”

  Matt’s eyes grew wide. That was the most the boy had spoken to him in all the time they had lived together. And he was actually looking at him, not ignoring him.

  It was a start.

  “That’s right,” Matt said. “You were using them. Now, you’re not. Now, you’re coming downstairs with me and hanging out with the rest of us. We can play cards or a board game if you want to, but no more computer or iPad. From now on, you have one hour of screen time each day after school. The rest, you spend downstairs with the rest of us.”

  Before the boy could answer or even protest, Matt walked to the wall and pulled out the plug.

  “But…?” Elijah tried.

  Matt shook his head. “Nope. I’m your dad, and I’m telling you to get downstairs now.”

  Elijah’s eyes flickered back and forth, and there was obviously some struggle going on inside of him.

  “That’s not fair,” he yelled, then stood to his feet and walked through the door. “You can’t do this to me. You have no right.”

  “Oh, I have every right. Just you watch me.”

  Matt stood for a few seconds and stared at the cord in his hand, heart beating rapidly in his chest. Elizabeth had been right, much to his surprise. He wasn’t winning any popularity contests due to this, and Elijah hated him more than ever, but he realized he hadn’t felt this good in a very long time.

  “I’m sorry to have to bother you both at a time like this,” I said.

  I looked at Peter James’s parents as they sat in front of me. We had come to them in their house outside of New Orleans in a small charming neighborhood called Elmwood. The house was a typical Victorian-style house with wrought-iron balconies and stained glass in the doorways and windows. It was beautiful on the outside, but inside, the air was thick with grief, and it saddened me deeply. Their son had been dead for more than a year, but time in here had stood still. It was December, and yet they had put no decorations up for Christmas.

  “I’m just not sure how we can be of help?” His dad, Greg James, said.

  His mother, Viviane, couldn’t hold back her tears.

  “I really don’t like ripping up these old wounds,” she said.

  “We understand,” Liam said. “But as we told you, it happened to my boy too. And we believe someone is doing this, is causing these episodes to happen.”

  “But…why?” Viviane asked. “Why would anyone do something like this?”

  I swallowed and shook my head. “We don’t know that yet. We have no motive so far for these attacks. But we do know that he’s not going to stop anytime soon. We came here straight from a meeting with another young boy whom we believe might be his next victim, had we not warned him.”

  “Oh, dear God,” Viviane said and cupped her mouth.

  “At least you could warn him,” Greg said. “You said he lived around here?”

  “Yes, but we’ve told him to go away for a little while,” Liam said. “Just to make sure that he isn’t at his house when the call comes in. Just in case.”

  “The thing is,” I said, “that even if we warn them, the police have to go if they get a call. They have to take it seriously no matter what. We thought it was better that the boy got away.”

  “Good,” Greg said, nodding. “Very good. Now, what can we do to help you find this guy?”

  “I was wondering if we might be able to take a look at Peter’s computer?” I asked.

  Greg looked puzzled. “His computer? But…why?”

  “There might be clues as to who this person might be. Peter is the first victim that I’ve found, so maybe the Swatter wrote something to him, or maybe he made a mistake of some sort that can guide us. Anything at this point would be a great help. We don’t really have much the way it is.”

  “Do you still have his computer here in the house?” Liam asked.

  Viviane nodded. “In his room. We haven’t changed anything.”

  “Viviane hasn’t been able to go in there yet,” Greg said.

  That was exactly what I had hoped when Liam had suggested we talk to this family; he had done so because he wanted them to know their son’s death was no accident, that they deserved to know the truth. For me, it was just as much because I had a feeling his computer might have been left untouched. I remembered how it was in my home when my sister Sydney was kidnapped. My mom didn’t dare to go into her room, and the door was simply closed like she was still in there sleeping or maybe playing peacefully. We just went on with our lives like she was still living there. I had a feeling the James family might have done the same thing. It was only natural when losing a child. There was no right time to remove his things, and it felt like removing the memory of him completely.

  Just like you haven’t gotten rid of Chad’s things. They’re still gathered in the garage in boxes. You haven’t even looked inside of them.

  I rose to my feet with an exhale, shaking the thought and reminding myself to call Matt before I went to bed at the hotel, then looked at the mother.

  “Could you be so kind and show us the way?”

  Chapter 30

  “They got on a late flight,” Liam said and sat down in the bar of the hotel.

  Liam had told me he’d pay for the entire trip since I had no money—at least none to spare—so he had booked us in at the Waldorf Astoria in New Orleans. It was a gorgeous old hotel, unlike anywhere I had ever stayed. The amount of marble and the huge chandeliers were enough to leave me breathless. We had rooms on the same floor and agreed to meet up for drinks downstairs. It had been a long day, going through Peter James’ computer. Unfortunately, we hadn’t found anything that could help us. His parents didn’t know his passwords to any of his gaming profiles, so we couldn’t get access to them. I then called my dad and asked for his help, and he gained access from his computer, but couldn’t find anything extraordinary. All the chats were gone, and it would take months to go through all his private messages and comments on all the social media platforms. We concentrated our search around the days before he was killed and went through his emails but didn’t find anything to help us.

  It was a long shot anyway.

  “To Montreal. Jamal called me as they arrived at the airport.”

  I ordered a glass of Chardonnay.

  “I won’t feel safe till I know he has landed in safety,” I said. “I keep thinking of what happened to Amal Bukhari.”

  Liam placed a hand on my shoulder. The gesture felt a little awkward, and, realizing this, he pulled it away.

  “He’s going to be fine. As long as they haven’t told anyone they’re leaving and where they’re going, they can’t get to him.”

  I took a deep breath. “I still don’t feel good about this.”

  My glass of white wine landed in front of me, and I sipped it. Liam had a whiskey that he turned a couple of times before tasting it. It looked almost like he washed his mouth with it.

  “I don’t understand you housewives,” he said and looked at my Chardonnay. “Why you all drink that stuff. There are so many wonderful white wines out there that are way better than Chardonnay.”

  I stared at my glass, then drank some more. “I drink it because I like it. And please don’t refer to me as a housewife again. I don’t think I deserve that title, being as I’m never home in my house with my family.”

  That made him smile slyly. “Touché.”

  “You know what? You’re actually a nice guy
,” I said. “Why do you act the way you do on your show?”

  He smiled again. “Don’t let my act fool you. I am not a nice guy. Believe me. I am anything but.”

  “So, you’re telling me that you’re acting now with me and not when you’re on TV? That’s your real personality? I don’t buy it. You’ve been nice to me ever since you came to my house that day.”

  He shrugged and took a sip that was used as mouthwash once again. There was a point when I feared he’d spit it all out afterward like a fine wine tasting. But he didn’t.

  “Who’s to tell, huh?”

  I scoffed. “I, for one, think you should drop the act and just be you. People might like that even better.”

  “What? And no yelling at people anymore? No telling them what to do? No scolding them for the excessive use of garlic in their food? Are you crazy? I like that part. No, I love it. It makes me feel alive. Without it, I’d be more bored than your little friends out in suburbia drinking their Chardonnay, never doing anything with their lives. Look here. I’ll send this whiskey back. It’s only suited for use on your Christmas pudding if you ask me.”

  “Please, don’t,” I said, cringing. “Please, don’t make a scene.”

  He sat up like he was suddenly filled with a new surge of energy.

  “Why not? Does causing trouble make you uncomfortable, huh? Are you that self-effacing that all you want to do is run around and help people, save the world, save lives here and there, but lo and behold you should demand anything for yourself or cause any ruckus in life?”

  “Excuse me?” I said, beginning to feel a little offended.

  “What is so wrong with demanding the best or standing up for yourself?” he asked, getting agitated and gesticulating. “In my opinion, people let restaurants get away with way too much. No one should eat bad food or drink horrible white wine. You need to grab life by the horns, Eva Rae. Don’t fear people getting upset or causing a scene. Demand the best. Stop letting life toss you around.”