Lisa Phillips - Dead End

“Just let me know what you find,” Nina said. “I’ll figure out what to do about it.”

Sienna didn’t look impressed.

“She’s right.” Parker set his hand on her shoulder. “And yes, Nina, we’ll pass you and Wyatt whatever we find out.”

Wyatt? Why did Parker think his partner was involved in her business? Lunch had been Parker’s idea, and she might have called him, but that didn’t mean there was anything between them.

“That’s our cue to go.” Parker escorted Sienna to the door, but not before she gave Nina one last light squeeze.

Wyatt stepped over to her, but she didn’t look up.

“What’s with the face?”

Nina ignored Wyatt’s question and hit the button for assistance. As soon as a nurse or doctor came in she’d find out how long she had to stay here. Then she could continue her search. Because now that she knew for sure Mr. Thomas had killed her mother, there was nothing to stop Nina from figuring out who he really was.

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.