Lisa Phillips - Dead End

“Okay, I got something. But it makes no sense.”

Wyatt said, “What is it?”

“The file...it isn’t really open, but it’s not closed either.”

“You’re right. That makes no sense.”

Geoff huffed. “It looks like it’s been flagged. There’s an active investigation into a string of murders. They have to be similar somehow, but I’d have to look into each one to figure it out. Clarissa Holmes’s murder is possibly connected.”

“Seriously?”

“Six murders over a thirty-year period by the looks of it. There’s an open investigation into them, ongoing. Has been for a while. Probably stalled out for lack of leads. The congresswoman was number one, and number six was just three years ago.” Geoff paused. “In your neighborhood, actually.”

“In my town?”

“No, Portland.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. Of course someone from the East Coast would think Portland and a small town hours away were the same “neighborhood.”

He stretched. “A serial killer, really?”

“Exactly.” Geoff sounded baffled. “Listen, you want a copy of these files? I can let the agent in charge of the case know you were asking.”

Wyatt bounced the idea around in his mind, but all he could think of was Nina’s beaten and bruised face. Those big blue eyes looking up at him, tear filled and asking for help.

“Send me everything.”

A serial killer.

Was it possible Nina was exactly right, that Mr. Thomas had killed her mom...and then killed five more people over the years? Dread settled over him. She’d faced down Mr. Thomas just yesterday, tangled with a serial killer and fought him off sufficiently enough that he’d left her and retreated.

But had he, really?

Wyatt had seen a lot of awful things in his time as a cop and as a marshal. There wasn’t a lot that surprised him about what people could do to each other for money, or power, or some misguided sense of love or devotion. But the idea that Nina had been alone with a killer drew a lump into his throat.

He threw on some clothes, not even bothering to check whether his tie matched the rest of it. When he trailed back out of the bedroom, his inbox had a new email from Geoff with multiple attachments.

Wyatt’s cousin had flagged the most recent file. Three years ago, a woman—twenty-nine years old—had been found beaten to death in her bedroom. Young daughter. Estranged husband, a soldier, considered a suspect until it became clear he had been deployed at the time. A couple of other suspects, but nothing concrete the investigating detectives could use to get a warrant for anyone’s arrest.

More times than he cared to remember, Wyatt had watched the prime suspect in a case walk because of lack of evidence. Despite the fact that every instinct he’d had assured him they were as guilty as a person could get, there had been nothing Wyatt could do about it. Frustrating, to say the least.

He’d have to call the lead detective, though he didn’t know what the man’s reaction would be. Everyone on the Portland police force thought Wyatt had left for greener pastures. Cops were cops until they died, and they considered it essentially betrayal that he’d transferred to the marshals’ fugitive apprehension task force. Either betrayal, or they thought he’d gone because he couldn’t handle the job.

Neither of which said much about him that was good.

If Wyatt was going to get anywhere he’d have to call his former partner, a man he hadn’t spoken with much in the years since he’d left—despite their being close as brothers. No one except Parker knew the truth of what had happened with his father and the effect it had had on his own career.

But in order to help Nina, Wyatt was going to have to face the past.

* * *

Nina’s whole body ached. She blinked away the cloud of sleep and shifted to sit up. She winced and glanced at the door to the hospital room.

Mr. Thomas stood there.

Nina screamed.

Sienna shot from the chair beside the bed and touched her shoulder. “Nina.”

Nina blinked. He was gone. “I saw...” She pointed at the door. “He was...”

“Oh, honey.” Sienna hugged her and settled on the bed. “It was a flashback.”

Nina couldn’t stop breathing hard.

“It’s completely normal. You had a traumatic experience.”

Nina heard what she didn’t say, that it had been more than one traumatic experience back-to-back. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe away the panic the way her counselor had taught her, reciting prime numbers in her head.

Sienna cut in, “Twenty-four, sixty-two. Three hundred and fourteen.” A smile infected Sienna’s voice.

Nina shoved her away. “You’re making me lose count on purpose.”

Sienna chuckled. “Want some breakfast?”

“Not really.” Nina settled back on the bed. “I’m ready to get out of here.”

“Already told the doctor that.” Sienna knew how she felt about hospitals, mostly because it was the exact same way Sienna felt. In fact, did anyone seriously like being stuck in a bed getting poked and prodded? “He said you should be able to go home this morning.”

“Great.”

“So.” Sienna dragged the word out. “How are you doing?”

“Sore.”

Her friend’s lips twitched. “I meant about Wyatt.”

“I know what you meant.” Sienna hadn’t hidden her desire to see her friends get together, despite Nina explaining that was impossible.

Was she even ready to talk about the man who had unexpectedly entered her life at possibly the worst moment? “There’s no point in talking about it. It’s not going to work. Not when I have all this hanging over my head. I have to find the evidence that proves Mr. Thomas was my mother’s murderer, and I have to do it before fall semester starts.”

Sienna gasped. “You got that job?”

Nina nodded. “They called the day before yesterday.”

“And you didn’t text me right away?”

“You were at the doctor. Whatever that was about, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Especially not when it was only a voice mail to say they’d loved her at the interview and wanted her to come in and sign papers.

“But this is huge! Teaching economics at the community college. You’ll be here. Settled.”

“I know.”

“I told you that master’s degree would come in handy.”

Nina shook her head, smiling. It had been a lot of work, but a student visa had given her a great cover as a CIA agent.

Sienna’s eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. “I get to have you here. Auntie Nina, full time.”

“Aunt—”

“I’m pregnant. That’s what the appointment was.”

“Well, I thought so. I just didn’t want to say anything.” Nina grabbed Sienna’s hands and held them tight. Her best friend since third grade, her CIA coworker, her family. There was nothing she’d experienced in decades that Sienna hadn’t been a part of. “A baby?”

Sienna nodded, her face stretched wide in a smile. “Don’t say anything to anyone. I haven’t told Parker yet. Things have been a little busy, and I want to find the right moment.”

Nina pulled her friend in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Sienna leaned back. “But you’re not, and yet you think somehow that’s fine. Because it’s not, Nina. You can have what I have, and not when Mr. Thomas has been caught. Now.”

She shook her head. “You think he’s going to let me be happy? He tried to take me from my apartment. He—” Her voice cracked. Nina swallowed. Blow after blow, not knowing when it would stop and he would drag her off to dump her body in a shallow grave. That would have destroyed Sienna.

“Nina—”

“I think you should go home. I’ll call a cab when it’s time to leave.”