COLD CASE INVESTIGATION

Nina Holmes won’t rest until she finds her mother’s killer—and proves that her father was wrongly convicted. And now that she’s left the CIA, she finally has time to pursue the case that shattered her childhood. But someone realizes that Nina’s digging into the past, and soon it’s her own life that’s in jeopardy. Deputy US marshal Wyatt Ames is just as determined to keep Nina safe as he is to keep investigating. But as he helps her with the case, they discover that this killer may be even more dangerous than anyone expected. And to capture him, Wyatt and Nina must be willing to do whatever it takes—even use themselves as bait.

“Wyatt!” She screamed his name at the top of her lungs.

Mr. Thomas’s steps faltered. He tossed her, and she landed on the grass on her behind with a grunt. Where was her weapon? She had nothing. He was going to kill her now, and there was no way she could fight him off.

But someone did have a gun. “Wyatt!”

The glint of a knife flashed in the moonlight. She couldn’t see his face, but did that matter? In a minute she would take her last breath, a statistic. A memory.

His hand gripped her hair and pulled her face back to his. “What did you just say?”

“Wyatt,” Nina breathed.

“Well. This just got a lot more interesting. I suppose that was the man in your condo? Did you tell him all about me?”

“So what if I did?” she gasped.

“Then he must die, too.”

“No—”

Mr. Thomas slammed her head on the ground, and everything went black.

LISA PHILLIPS is a British-born, tea-drinking, guitar-playing wife and mom of two. She and her husband lead worship together at their local church. Lisa pens high-stakes stories of mayhem and disaster where you can find made-for-each-other love that always ends in happily-ever-after. She understands that faith is a work in progress more exciting than any story she can dream up. Lisa blogs monthly at teamloveontherun.com, and you can find out more about her books at authorlisaphillips.com.

Dead End
Lisa Phillips

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ,

he is a new creation; old things have passed away;

behold, all things have become new.

—2 Corinthians 5:17

This year I lost my Granny, Ivy Clayton.

She was 97 years old

when she went to rest in the arms of Jesus.

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TITLE PAGE

BIBLE VERSE

DEDICATION

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

EPILOGUE

DEAR READER

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

ONE

Nina Holmes squeezed her hands into fists and resisted the urge to slam them down on the counter. “Ma’am, with all due respect. I’m not leaving until you tell me what I want to know.”

Probably not proper decorum for the federal courthouse, but what else was she supposed to do? This woman was her last option. Nina had to get this information.

The name tag read “SONDRA,” and it jiggled as she huffed. “Be that as it may, I am only a federal employee. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

Nina pushed the creased and worn paper closer to Sondra. “I just need you to contact this person at the other federal courthouse, the one in Baltimore, where these records are kept. They can have the file transferred here. It’s so old it’s paper, but only an employee of the courthouse can request the file.”

Now that Nina was a retired CIA agent, she had zero clout.

Sondra looked at the paper with one penciled eyebrow raised. Nina took a deep breath and launched in. “You see, I’m looking into an old case. It was an FBI investigation into the murder of a congresswoman that took place nearly thirty years ago—my mother. I need this file, Sondra.”

It was the one thing she’d never been able to let go of, even in all her years at the CIA running covert missions. Her best friend had been there for her since third grade all the way through their time with the CIA. But now Sienna had gotten married, and they were no longer secret agents for the US government.

Sienna had a new life, and Nina had...nothing but the will to find the truth. That was why she had to look into her mom’s death, and maybe even discover the real killer once and for all, so her father—wrongly convicted of the crime—could finally have peace. So that she could have peace. Otherwise she was never going to be able to move on with her life.

Sondra fingered the paper.

Nina sighed. “Please, help me.”

The woman took the name and phone number of the person Nina had been in contact with in Baltimore—where the murder and trial had taken place. But she didn’t pick up the phone. She moved her fingers over the keyboard. The clicking of keys took on a rapid pace, and soon Sondra sat back.

“This person, whoever it is, doesn’t show up in my system as working for that particular courthouse.” She pointed to the paper. “And that phone number is for the Baltimore public library.”

Nina flinched. “What? How is that possible? I called the federal courthouse. I was transferred to that person. He knew about my mother’s case. He said he remembered it from the news reports, since the husband killed his congresswoman-wife.” Nina swallowed against the bad taste of those words. Her father had been innocent. “He said he would process my request.”

“I must be too young to remember it.” Sondra’s eyes narrowed. “That is what the computer says. I’m sorry I can’t help you more.” She glanced over Nina’s shoulder and raised her voice. “I can help the next in line!”

Nina staggered back. What was going on? She’d thought for sure today would be the day she would finally see the file.

The public library. How could she have been given that number by mistake? None of this made any sense. The process should have been...not easy, but at least possible. She might have worked for the CIA, but it wasn’t as though she could just call up one of her old coworkers and ask them for information on a domestic murder that happened years ago.

Nina stumbled down the hall, the injury in her left hand aching beneath the brace she wore to cover the scars. She didn’t need the questions, usually innocent enough, but she had no interest in being reminded how she’d gotten the nasty cut. She had more important things to worry about. Her teaching job at the local college would start with the fall semester in a few weeks. Until then the clock was ticking.

It was time to find the killer and put the past to rest once and for all.

She’d walked from the apartment she rented close to the federal courthouse. She lived downtown simply so she didn’t burn extra money on a car, insurance payments and gas. The college where she had been hired to teach economics was nearby. A new chapter for her new life.

But so far she was getting nowhere.

Nina blew out a breath and pushed open the heavy door. The Oregon fall weather was breezy with a pleasant temperature, much different from the biting East Coast air she was used to. Nina hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and tried to push down the frustration while she figured out a new plan of attack. Regroup. That was all she had to do, and the CIA had taught her how. She just needed to come at this from a different angle.

The concrete steps were smooth under her canvas flats. Traffic whizzed past, and two men in bulletproof vests walked a man in an orange jumpsuit up toward her. She stepped aside, too preoccupied to really look at them. They were just doing their jobs. It wasn’t their fault she was having a bad day.

But they slowed.

Whether she knew them because Sienna was now married to a marshal or not, Nina didn’t want to make small talk. She trotted down the steps onto the sidewalk and turned in the direction of home. Two steps after she had set off, someone yelled her name.

Wyatt? She turned back to tell him she couldn’t talk, or wasn’t in the mood for it, or some variation of that.

A silver car jumped the curb as it barreled toward her.

Nina didn’t have time to scream. She jumped aside and prayed she wouldn’t die before she found her mother’s real killer, a man who had been having an affair with her mother. A man who called himself Mr. Thomas and who’d told her stories of spies, pirates and fair maidens.

A man no one had ever believed existed when she’d told them he killed her mother.

Nina hit the ground and rolled.

* * *

Deputy US Marshal Wyatt Ames ensured his partner had hold of the prisoner and sprinted down the steps. The silver car raced away, but he ran to Nina with his gun ready. It was a reflex to draw his weapon, but he wasn’t going to shoot at a car fleeing the scene. Too easy to hit an innocent person on a busy downtown street.

Behind him Parker called in the make and model, no plates. Request for EMTs, possible injuries.

“Nina.” He crouched beside her and holstered his weapon. “Nina, are you okay?”

She groaned. “No.” She sounded mad, which almost made Wyatt smile.

He helped her roll over, which made her groan again. The road rash on her right arm and her temple made him wince.

She eyed him. “That bad, huh?”

He didn’t return her smile—there was too much fear in her blue eyes. He did lift her left hand so he could survey the scar from the injury she’d had the day he’d met her. She had a wrist brace on, and he couldn’t see the injury on her fingers. Was it under the brace material? That would mean the injury was down by her thumb. Why hadn’t he known that?

Wyatt had been there the day they rescued her from the house where she’d been held, months ago now. Caught up in Sienna’s amnesia, and the hunt for a flash drive of sensitive information Sienna had hidden before she lost her memory, Nina had been kidnapped in order to draw Sienna out. The man who had held her was dead now, but Nina had been injured.

When they’d found her, Nina’s left hand had been bandaged, the wrappings soaked in blood. Yet she’d still been strong enough to push through and help Wyatt’s partner—Parker—find Sienna, who was now his wife. That danger had passed, and Parker and Sienna were finally free to be happy.

Wyatt had been impressed by Nina that day, and it hadn’t let up since. Clearly her inner character was as beautiful as she was on the outside, even with the haircut she had gotten recently. He’d never been a fan of short hair on women, but the choppy blond strands made her eyes stand out all the more and he had to admit it was cute.

Wyatt’s phone started to ring, but he ignored it. “Don’t get up, okay?” Her left hand seemed to have gone through this unscathed, the road rash on her right arm likely from trying to protect the injury beneath the brace. “EMTs will be here in a minute and we’ll get you looked at.”

Nina sighed and straightened her legs on the sidewalk in front of her. Wasn’t she glad help was coming?

“Ames!”

Wyatt turned back to his partner.

Parker motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’m going to check our friend here into his permanent staycation and I’ll be back out.”

Wyatt nodded and turned back to Nina, still in his crouch. “That was crazy. I can’t believe that car jumped the curb and came right at you. Seriously. It was nuts.”

Nina’s lips curled up, though he could see the pain on her face. “You’re babbling.”

“Your life just flashed before my eyes.”

Nina laughed. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hug her until his heart rate settled down, and she was laughing? “This isn’t funny, Nina.”

She shook her head. “No, it really isn’t. You’re right. But to be honest, it’s just been one of those days. This is pretty much the perfect end.”

“It’s not even lunchtime.”

“I’m still ready to go home and crawl back into bed. Maybe tomorrow will go better, because today does not seem to be my day.”

The ambulance pulled up, a police car parking right behind it. He knew the sergeant who climbed out. Sergeant Zane sauntered over, apparently relaxed, having decided the emergency had passed and Wyatt had whatever this was covered.

The law enforcement community in their town was pretty tight-knit. Zane probably knew Nina through her connection to Sienna and Parker. Being retired CIA agents in this town was enough to make them famous.

Wyatt got up and stepped back as the EMTs started to work on Nina. Zane might think the former CIA agent could handle herself, even in a situation like this, but he hadn’t seen the raw fear on her face like Wyatt had. There was a lot of wincing now as the EMT doused her road rash, but she kept it together. All that raw skin had to hurt something fierce, but she held her own. As usual. Did the woman ever break?

Sergeant Zane stopped in front of him. “Parker called in an attempted vehicular homicide. I’ve got units on the lookout for the car he described, but it seems like it worked out.”

Vehicular homicide? Wyatt glanced back at Nina. His head hadn’t caught up with his reflexes yet so it took a minute. The car. Nina on the sidewalk. “Why would someone try to kill you?”

It couldn’t be easy to have a past full of covert missions—especially when a recent leak made her past career public knowledge. Had someone she’d angered as a CIA agent just tried to retaliate?

Nina looked up, one eyebrow raised. “You’re seriously asking me that question?”

Sergeant Zane snorted. When Wyatt glanced at the man, his eyes were on the blue sky. He looked back at Nina. He’d been more concerned about the fact that she was hurt. He hadn’t even wondered who was driving the car and why they had done this.

“Who wants you dead?”

Nina cocked her head to the side. “I would write you a list, but...” She lifted her right arm, now being wrapped in a bandage.

Sergeant Zane erupted in chuckles. Wyatt shot him a look that shut him up. Wyatt had been a cop before transferring to the Marshals Service, but couldn’t ever remember acting the way Zane did. Now that he was on a fugitive apprehension task force, Wyatt didn’t have to suffer the sleepless nights of being a homicide detective. He didn’t have to see the tear-filled eyes of loved ones as they faced the gruesome details of death. The long-drawn-out investigations. Awful hours that had taken a toll on every relationship he’d had.

As a homicide detective, he’d had only questions and then had to go out and find the answers. As a marshal he knew the answers—the case was closed—and he only needed to track down the fugitive and dispense justice. When the cell doors shut, his job was done.

The one gray cloud in his life right now was Nina. Or, more specifically, his unwanted feelings for her. Wyatt might have been attracted to her since they met, but Nina wasn’t like any other woman. Not exactly a bad thing, but her best friend had just married his partner. She’d have the bug, and if they started dating she’d be thinking about him and “long term.”

Not exactly Wyatt’s thing, at least when he considered the fact that his track record at relationships wasn’t good. It was why he kept everything light. First he had to figure out why he’d never been able to hold on to a relationship. Then he’d open himself up to dating again.

He glanced back at the courthouse, where Parker made his way down the steps toward them. Wyatt looked back at Nina. “What were you doing here?”

Nina opened her mouth to answer, but Parker spoke first. “She was trying to find out who killed her mother.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Sienna was not supposed to have shared that with you. That was private.”

Parker’s brows lifted. “You want my wife to keep secrets from me?”

Wyatt glanced between them. They seemed to have this rapport as friends that he didn’t have with Nina. And why did that bother him? He moved so the EMT could get by him and head back toward his bus. He heard a low “She’s good.”

Wyatt nodded to the EMT, then looked back at Nina. “Your mother was killed?” He could see the sadness in her eyes. He’d never seen that undercurrent of grief in her before. Apparently she was as good as he was at keeping things light. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Nina glanced at Parker for a second. “It was a very long time ago. I came here trying to find out what happened. To say I’m getting the runaround is an understatement.”

Parker took a step closer to them. “Sienna and I said we’d help.”

“Sienna said she’d help. I wasn’t even aware you knew.” Nina sighed. “And I might have to take you up on your offer since I’m not getting anywhere. I wanted to do it myself, but I might have to face the fact that I’m in over my head with this.”

Nina glanced around, still sitting on the sidewalk. Wyatt moved to help her up, but Parker beat him to it. Held out his hand and hauled Nina to her feet while Wyatt just stood there looking inconsiderate.

She gifted Parker a small smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” His eyes were dark, but he had that undercurrent of a happily married man that had for a long time been absent in his partner. “Wyatt is going to take you home, okay? Watch your six.”

Finally Parker said something right. Wyatt nodded to his partner, since Nina couldn’t see him. She snapped a salute with her good hand. “Yes, sir.”

Wyatt shook his head. “Where’s your car?”

She turned from Parker as he walked away and said, “I walked here.”

“You did?”

She shrugged. “I only live around the corner.”

Parker, already ten feet away, spun back. “I’m headed to the office. When you see her home, make sure she eats some lunch.”

Nina rolled her eyes.

“My car is this way.”

He held out his hand, but she didn’t take it. She walked gingerly, and he wished he’d parked closer. She’d hit the sidewalk pretty hard, and she was leaning toward the opposite side. Wyatt put his hand on the small of her back like he was leading her, when the reality was he needed to give her support and comfort even if it was in that small measure.

He’d done the same a million times with witnesses, or women he’d dated, but he’d never felt like this. It was as though a spark of electricity had arced from her to his hand. She probably wasn’t even aware of the action, whereas all of his senses had lit up. The lingering rush of adrenaline at watching her almost die wasn’t helping. She’d nearly been flattened on the concrete by that car.

She needed support and protection, but from what? The police could track the car, but it was likely stolen. Maybe they would never find out who had been driving. Nina would live the rest of her life under a cloud of impending danger.

Nina’s cell phone chimed from inside her purse. She pulled it out and looked at the screen, but he couldn’t read the tiny text. What he could read was her reaction.

The flinch.

The quick intake of breath that meant the danger was far from over.

Maybe it was just beginning.

TWO

“Everything okay?”

Nina looked up from her phone. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. The text had come from a contact saved in her phone as Baltimore Public Library. How was that even possible? Had someone hacked her phone just to send a message?

Next time I won’t miss.

She had to talk to Sienna. She’d know what to do. This man whom Nina knew as a friend only, despite the unwanted feelings she had for him, didn’t want all of her baggage. No one actually wanted to know what another person’s damage was. Every time she’d tried to tell a man she was attracted to about her past, he’d run away in response. She didn’t need that all over again. But Sienna was different, best girlfriends were always different.

So Nina kept the text message to herself. Meanwhile Wyatt didn’t look like he believed her that it was nothing, but thankfully didn’t say anything.

The drive to her building took two minutes, but it was full of awkward silence nonetheless. Nina waved to the doorman and Wyatt did the leading thing again, with his hand on her back. It probably meant nothing. He probably did it with suspects and witnesses all the time. He probably didn’t feel the same awareness she did.

They took the elevator to the twenty-second floor. He’d never been to her condo. And why would he have? They’d only hung out at Parker and Sienna’s house. What was he going to think? Nina sighed, trying to dispel her ridiculous thoughts. Why did she even care what Wyatt thought? It wasn’t like she was looking for a relationship. He was only here because Parker had told him to bring her home.

Nina unlocked her front door. The steady beep of her security system chimed, and she entered the code to silence the alarm. Wyatt was still by her door, eyes wide as he stared at the expanse of her foyer.

“Come in.” There were a few boxes she still hadn’t unpacked. But the place wasn’t unlivable.

Wyatt shook off whatever had stalled him and shut the front door. “Nice place.”

“Doesn’t have a lot of character, but it’ll do for now.”

“You’re not staying?” He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, which pulled his shirt taut over his arm muscles.

Nina looked away. “I thought about buying a house, but who wants to mow a yard? If I want to have a country experience I’ll go to Sienna and Parker’s house in the sticks.”

Wyatt eyed her. “Some people like that kind of thing.” He glanced around. “So this is home?”

Home. There was a concept Nina didn’t know all that much about, unless he was talking about her friendship with Sienna. They’d been each other’s family for years. Instead of answering, Nina went to the kitchen and pressed the button on the side of her coffeepot, where it heated water. After the morning she’d had, she needed hot chocolate, stat. Maybe even marshmallows.

“Do you want coffee?”

He was looking at her like she was a puzzle he hadn’t realized was five thousand pieces and not six simple ones easily slotted together. “Sure. Parker said something about lunch.” He sauntered to her fridge and pulled it open. “How about eggs?”

“Sure.”

She made the drinks while he pulled ingredients from the fridge. “Where’s the sausage?” His eyes narrowed. “The fancy cheese I get, but you eat meat, right?”

Nina smiled. “Bottom drawer.”

Wyatt muttered “thank you” and stuck his head back in the fridge. Nina chuckled as she circled the center island, where the burners were. Her side was a counter on which he set a chopping board, an onion and a handful of mushrooms, then slid over a knife.

“You’re on chopping duty.”

Nina smiled. “I’ll make you proud.”

She got to work cutting veggies as best she could with her right hand while Wyatt’s strong hands cracked each egg with ease—though who would eat all of this food was anyone’s guess. But even with the easiness of their friendship, the weight of the day washed back like the incoming tide. It always did, and Nina wasn’t sure she’d know what to do if one day she no longer had to worry about it.

“Tell me what all this is about.”

The knife slipped across her finger, and Nina cried out.

Wyatt rushed around the island and pulled her to the sink. He ran the cold water gently over her right hand and held her finger there. The liquid washed away the drops of blood and helped numb the pain. Too bad something so simple didn’t work on everything.

He ran his thumb over the tiny cut. “It doesn’t look too bad, but you should put a bandage on it.”

Nina got one from the end cupboard and sat so he’d know she didn’t need his help. She finished the rest of the chopping without speaking, and then pushed the cutting board to his side of the island. He looked up from stirring, evidently content to wait for her to be ready to answer his request.

“My mother was killed, you know that. Parker said it. Her name was Congresswoman Clarissa Holmes.” Nina sucked in a breath. “When I was five years old my parents separated for a while. My mother began having an affair with another man.”

Nina clenched her fingers together in her lap, but it hurt so she let go. “I would see him when the nanny brought me home from the park. His name was Mr. Thomas, and he was very handsome. He would have tea with my mother and me every day, and he would tell me stories about pirates, and fair maidens, about spies and bad guys. I think he was one of them. A spy, I mean.

“Maybe he’s part of the reason I said yes when the CIA wanted to recruit Sienna and me. I looked for him in their databases as much as I could, but never found a single trace of anyone with the first or last name of Thomas who looked like him. Maybe I was wrong about him being a real spy, but that’s what I thought for a long time. Anyway, one day—I was six and a half, I think—we came home from the park and the front door was open.”

Wyatt slid the eggs into two bowls and came over. He sat on the stool beside her, but didn’t say anything.

“She was in the bedroom. There was blood everywhere. The nanny started screaming, so I ran to the study and called 911 from the phone. She fled out the front door and left me there. The police found me, on the stairs. Alone in the house with my dead mother.”

“And the police thought your father did it?”

“It was his letter opener. He’d left it when he moved out, but he hadn’t been there in months. I was sent to live with my grandparents, and they shipped me off to boarding school. I don’t think they were too interested in another child, especially one who had gone through a trauma.

“I went to see my father after I turned eighteen. He said it wasn’t him, and he wasn’t lying. It never seemed right to me that he had just shown up that day and killed her. But the police never believed me about Mr. Thomas.” Nina blew out a breath. “I’ve been thinking it through ever since.”

Wyatt nodded.

“When I told the police about Mr. Thomas they thought I had invented him to cover for my father. They never found the nanny—she just disappeared. No one else knew anything about the man who’d been spending all that time with my mother. They thought he didn’t exist because she hadn’t told anyone—not her friends, or employees—about him. They even tried to get this counselor to say I was making the whole thing up, like I was hysterical or delusional or something. Like I’d made up the idea of another suspect just so they wouldn’t send my father to jail.”

Nina squeezed her eyes shut. “I was the kid in school whose father killed her mother and who made up a story. The crazy child no one wanted their kid to hang around with because my delusion might get them killed, too.”

“Except Sienna.”

“She was as alone as I was, and she didn’t care what anyone else thought.”

Nina had worked for years with her best friend, Sienna. Playing bad guys off against each other, rehashing missions that had gone bad. They had been friends since that first day of third grade at boarding school, and they’d been inseparable ever since.

Except that Sienna had married Parker a couple of months back. Nina didn’t begrudge the happiness Sienna had found with the marshal. Sienna certainly deserved it after she was attacked on a mission and got amnesia. Nina had tried to help her remember where she’d hidden the sensitive information, which had presented a significant breach of national security. Sienna and her husband had cleared all that up, though, and fallen in love in the process.

But Nina couldn’t help feeling like maybe she’d been left behind.

Wyatt returned her smile. “And...now you’re trying to find this Mr. Thomas guy? To prove that your father is innocent and get him out of prison?”

“My father is dead.”

* * *

Wyatt swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I see.”

An innocent man had died in prison? There wasn’t much that Nina would achieve by unearthing something everyone else involved probably considered over and done with. He didn’t like it, but things were what they were. Still, the look on her face pricked his heart.

“I could...make some calls.” He took a breath. “Find the original investigating FBI agent, see if I can maybe get you a copy of the file.”

If she saw the evidence against her father for herself then she would know why he’d been put away. Maybe after that she could be convinced she didn’t need to continue on this fruitless search. Wyatt wasn’t discounting her memories, but she had been a child. Whether her mother had been having an affair or not, her father had been convicted for a reason. The evidence had to have been conclusive, or there would never have been a guilty verdict.

He believed in the justice system, despite its flaws. Wyatt believed if the evidence hadn’t been there, then the wrong person would not have been sent to prison.

“You would do that?” Nina’s look was full of hope, of wonder, that he might be able to help her. “Could you get the file?”

Wyatt nodded. “It’s worth a try.” He had a cousin who was an FBI agent that he could ask. If only to put to rest her questions, and this search she was on, to find a truth that was likely anything but. It’d be worth a call to help her do what he’d had to.

Move on.

Have you, really?

“Thank you.” She jumped up and put her arms around him.

Wyatt was taken aback for a moment, but remembered himself fast enough that he could return the hug before she got embarrassed over what she’d done. When was the last time someone had hugged him to say thank you? He wasn’t sure he could remember.

When they’d eaten, he set the dirty dishes in the sink and wiped his hands on a towel. “I should head back to the office, but I’ll make some calls this afternoon.”

Nina looked up at him from her perch on the stool. Her big blue eyes were full of sadness, and possibilities. It was enough to convince him she was onto something, despite the evidence to the contrary. Her need to prove that things had been the way she remembered them was strong, he got that. He understood why someone would want to preserve their memory of what had been—to prove what she knew to be true. But she was talking about events that happened when she was a young child, and since then she could easily have distorted things in her head.

Children were notoriously bad witnesses when any time had passed. Often they only wanted to tell adults what they wanted to hear—or what they themselves wanted to believe had happened. Was that the case here?

“Thank you, Wyatt.”

He nodded. The wall he could see in the living room caught his eye, so he trailed toward it. Nina jumped up and intercepted him. “Didn’t you just say you had to get back to work?”

Wyatt looked at her.

“There’s nothing interesting in there.”

Except that he thought there were printed pages or even newspaper articles tacked to the portion of the wall he could see. Why didn’t she want him to go in there and look? Nina wasn’t exactly hiding what she was doing. Parker and Sienna obviously knew about her looking into her mother’s murder, and she’d told him without too many qualms.

“If you say so.” But he didn’t believe her.

If she’d tacked pictures and news releases on the wall in her living room, this was clearly worse than he’d thought. It had consumed her daytime hours, which meant it also consumed her nights, too. Parker seemed to think she had to be reminded to eat. The signs were all there.

Nina was obsessed.

He understood why well enough. He’d been there himself even, but he knew what the end would be. If Nina kept going, either she would destroy herself trying to find the answers, or she would reach the end and find not even an ounce of the satisfaction she’d been looking for. She was going to wind up empty and exhausted with no answers.

“I guess I’ll be going then.” He stepped back. “Have a nice rest of your day.”

Wyatt walked to the door. That hadn’t been a great thing to say. Nina didn’t need the brush-off. What she needed was someone who could be compassionate to her situation—and that just wasn’t Wyatt. Sympathy, yes. But he didn’t know how much more he could give her when it would probably be unhelpful.

He turned back to her. “Be careful, and let me know if you need anything.”

But it couldn’t be denied she also needed someone who was going to tell her the truth—her father likely was her mother’s murderer. That the man she thought had done it didn’t have any reason to have killed her mom, not if they were in a relationship. She’d said herself that they had been happy, her mother and this “Mr. Thomas.”

“Goodbye, Wyatt.” Her voice was small, damaged. She didn’t sound anything like the self-assured former CIA agent he’d come to know.

A woman who had nearly died today.

Wyatt pulled out his phone before he hit the elevator. It rang twice and Sergeant Zane answered. “Hey, I need a favor.”

He felt better after he’d ordered regular drive-bys of her building to check for suspicious activity that could be another attack. There wasn’t much else he could do aside from 24-7 protection, but Wyatt still drove away racking his brain for other things that might help. Whoever had tried to kill her with that car would most likely try again.

And Wyatt was going to be there when he did.

THREE

The click of the front door echoed through the foyer. Nina’s socks whispered on the floor as she trailed to the living room. The walls were covered with sketches she’d done from memory after she’d learned how to properly execute a suspect drawing, but weren’t useful at all in identifying Mr. Thomas. Articles she’d printed from archived newspapers detailed her mother’s murder all the way through the investigation to the sentencing...and then finally her father’s death in prison.

It was a play-by-play of the worst days of Nina’s life.

She kept them up as a reminder and as a memorial. She couldn’t let anyone in, not without knowing their true motives. Nor was she prepared to open herself up—except to people like Sienna who convinced her otherwise. Not when there were people in the world who would slit a woman’s throat even knowing the woman’s child was on her way home.

Nina turned a full circle to look at the sum of her life now. Her search for the truth would enable her to move on, and the teaching job would begin the next chapter of her life. She just had to find Mr. Thomas before fall semester started.

The floor creaked.

She spun again, half expecting Wyatt to have come back for some forgotten thing. It wasn’t him.

Mr. Thomas stepped into the room.

He wore a suit, much the same as the last time she had seen him, years before. His hair was gray but still stylish, and his tan was highlighted by the pale lines on the sides of his face where he’d been wearing sunglasses.

“Hello, Nina.”

Nina’s feet were frozen to the floor, her muscles solid. “It’s you,” she said. The landline phone was three feet to her right on the end table beside the couch. Could she get there? What did he want?

Mr. Thomas’s cheekbones were high, his lips pursed as he surveyed her. For an old man, he was remarkably handsome. Probably in his seventies, at least, but he could easily pass for someone younger. Nina could almost see how a woman could fall for his charm—not knowing he was a murderer. A murderer who’d come to kill her.

“Why are you here?” The question left her lips before she realized she said it. Did she want to engage him or just run?

His eyes flickered. “You tell me, Little Mouse.”

Lunch turned over in Nina’s stomach. He’d called her that, and she’d forgotten until now. Little Mouse. “Why did you kill her?” She wanted to know. She needed to know why he had murdered her mother. Though no reason on earth could justify what he’d done, she still demanded the reason. “Why?”

She didn’t see a gun, but it could be behind his back. He could be carrying all manner of weapons—just like she had hidden around her condo. Now she just had to make it to the closest one so she could force him to leave...after she got him to admit what he’d done.

It was a shame she couldn’t record his confession.

“I’ll take the first question.” The words rolled from his mouth as sweetly as a frozen treat.

She repeated it. “Why are you here?”

“Curiosity, I must admit. That is the biggest reason.” He halfway grinned. “That my Little Mouse has come back after all these years, scurrying around and trying to dig up information best left buried. For everyone’s sakes.”

“Because you killed my mother.”

“And you won’t let it rest.”

“Why should I?” Nina asked. “Why ever would I let you get away with it when I can get the evidence—”

“There is none to be found.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“A confession?” He sneered. “Unlikely.”

“Shame I don’t have a recording device.” She shot him a look in return. “But now I know you’re threatened by me digging into the past. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. And you certainly wouldn’t have tried to run me over earlier.”

“A simple scare tactic. I had considered it beneath me, but I can’t deny there was a certain...rush. It turned out to be quite a pleasant excursion.”

“How nice for you.” She accented the last word and lifted her right arm to show him the road rash she’d acquired to keep from hurting her left thumb any more than it already was. There was no need to let him know she’d been scared out of her wits. “All to warn me off getting my mother’s file?”

“No one will benefit from the past being resurrected, Little Mouse. Some things just need to be laid to rest and left undisturbed.”

“Not when my father was wrongly convicted. Not when he died in prison before he ever got the chance to be exonerated. I’ve spent years trying to find you, trying to bury what happened. But I can’t escape it. I can’t seem to escape you.” Nina sucked in a breath. “And now I suppose you’re here to kill me, too?”

She needed to know either way. The not knowing was making her antsy, and then she would say something to attempt to end this and wind up making it worse. Nina prayed she hadn’t just done that anyway.

“Perhaps.”

Nina rushed to the phone, snapped it up and pressed the button. He hadn’t moved or made any attempt to come after her. When she listened and heard no dial tone, he laughed. “Nice try.”

Nina threw the phone handset and the base at him. The cord snapped taut and it landed on the couch. The closest weapon was in the kitchen, as was her cell. There was pepper spray in the hutch and a baton under the couch, but one was too far and the other she had to crouch low for.

Nina looked around for what else she could throw at him. The lamp, maybe?

He drew something long and thin from his pocket. Did she even want to know what was in that needle? Nina reached for something to say that would divert his attention. “So you’ve been keeping tabs on the case all this time?”

“My work is to be appreciated. Of course I stay connected.”

“And you tried to run me over because I was asking about my mother?” They’d already been over this point, but misdirection involved confusion. She needed to make him wonder if she was the one misinterpreting their conversation, or if he was.

“Nice dive, by the way.”

“The truth has to come out.”

Mr. Thomas frowned. “Not the right choice.” His face had reddened, and the vein on his neck puckered. “I’m afraid I can’t let that happen, Little Mouse. That’s why you’re coming with me.”

“You’re the one barking up the wrong tree, Thomas.”

“That’s Mister Thomas,” he hissed.

Nina stood straighter. At the first chance, she had to run for her phone. She couldn’t let him best her, couldn’t let him take her where he’d be able to kill her and bury her. Not when no one would ever know what had happened. She would be the victim. Yet another mysterious death, with only herself to blame.

He came forward then. “Come quietly, Little Mouse. It will be better for both of us.”

She shook her head. “No way.”

He lunged. Nina ducked and kicked out with her leg. The close proximity of the couch meant she didn’t get as much momentum as she wanted, but she slammed his knee as hard as she was able.

Thomas grunted. He swung out with the needle and she slammed her forearm into his. They grasped each other’s free hands and grappled. Strength for strength matched in a battle for her life.

Nina gritted her teeth and struggled. He was older, but muscled. She had training.

Eyes locked with his, she kicked out again.

As though expecting it, he countered the move. Pain burst in her shin and Nina’s grip loosened. She pushed back against his hands hard enough to shove him two steps back, then turned and ran the couple of steps to the end table, and the lamp.

She whipped it around at the same moment she felt a sting in the back of her shoulder. Nina rotated and slammed him on the side of the head with the lamp. The needle end broke off, still stuck in her shoulder.

Thomas cried out.

Nina ran for the kitchen. She cleared the doorway far enough ahead of him to pick up her cell phone. Her fingers were slick, but she’d preprogrammed a quick-dial setting while Wyatt was cooking lunch.

“Nina?”

A hand grabbed her hair and yanked.

Nina dropped the phone and screamed as she was dragged backward. The phone cracked on the tile floor as he pulled her across the threshold into the hall.

* * *

Wyatt pushed open the door of Nina’s building to the sound of sirens from approaching police cars. He hit the button for the elevator and tapped his foot as the car ascended to the twenty-second floor. “I’m sure she’s okay.” He muttered the words into the empty car, not because he was actually convinced. More like trying to fool himself into believing it.

Wyatt just wanted to get up there. He’d called Nina back after she screamed, and then he’d called Parker. Neither he nor his partner had gotten through on either her landline or her cell phone during the ten minutes since her call, until now.

He drew his weapon as the elevator slid open to reveal the building’s security guard outside the door to Nina’s condo. “She isn’t answering, but there’s thumping. Like I said on the phone, sounds like someone is in there with her,” the guard reported.

Wyatt nodded. “You did good, waiting for me.”

The couple of minutes had probably felt like a lifetime. Still, Wyatt didn’t want an old security guard getting hurt. Wyatt turned away, lifted his foot, and kicked the door open. He swung around, gun up, and started a room-by-room search.

“Nina?”

Kitchen was clear. Her phone was broken on the floor, a path through the debris like something had been swept through it. The hall looked exactly the same as when he’d left not long ago.

A dark figure crossed the hall at a dead run.

Wyatt raced after him into the bedroom. He’d clearly spooked the man, but was it in time to save Nina? The balcony door was open. Air blew back the long curtain with the night breeze. The man glanced over his shoulder, half out of the window.

“US Marshals.”

The man just stared. Long enough for Wyatt to get a good look at his face. Silver hair. Regal nose. The man shoved at the screen and jumped out. Wyatt raced to the window, where he rappelled from a rope attached to the balcony down to the ground floor. Who was this guy?

He called in what had happened to the police and requested roadblocks and a sweep starting where he landed. “Nina?”

“In here,” Sienna yelled.

He ran to the living room, where nearly the whole team had arrived. “You’re here.”

Parker nodded, on his phone.

A socked foot was visible at the far end of the couch, and a broken lamp lay discarded on the floor. Sienna huddled over Nina. Wyatt rounded the couch, stowed his weapon and crouched. Nina was facedown on the floor. New raw red scratches covered her right hand and forearm. He brushed back hair from the side of her face and winced.

“Nina. Can you hear me? Nina?”

She didn’t move.

Sienna grabbed his hand. “Parker’s calling an ambulance.”

* * *

Nina’s head felt like an elephant had sat on it. She blinked against the fluorescent lights of the room and looked around. Not her bed. Not her clothes, a hospital gown.

Beside her, on a chair, Wyatt Ames sat with his head in his hands.

“Hey,” she managed to say.

“You’re awake.” He shot up from the chair and perched on the side of her bed. “How are you feeling?”

Nina tried to swallow against the arid desert in her mouth. Wyatt reached for a cup and held the straw to her. Nina pushed up on the bed. “I can sit up.”

“Okay, but take it easy.”

She took a drink. There was a knock on the door, and two cops entered. Wyatt nodded to them, and then asked, “Want to tell me what happened?”

Nina pushed back the hair that hung over her eyes, the ends tickling her cheek. “Sure.”

One of the officers pulled out a little notepad and a pencil. How could they arrest Mr. Thomas when she—or they—didn’t even know the man’s whole name?

“But I don’t know how much good it’s going to do.”

Wyatt replaced the cup on the table. “Let us worry about that. I gave a statement myself. I saw his face, and I’m going to head to the office after this to look at mug shots and see if I can identify him.”

Nina nodded. It hurt enough to breathe that she wondered if Thomas might have cracked a rib or two. “He was in my condo after you left. He was mad because I wasn’t prepared to go with him. He was going to drug me, but the needle end broke off. I called you and it connected, and I yelled, and it was like he...snapped.”

“He?”

Nina shut her eyes. She could see his enraged face as he stood over her. Fine, if Wyatt needed her to identify the man aloud, she would do it. Nina steeled herself and opened her eyes. “It was Mr. Thomas.”

She caught Wyatt’s surprise before he could cover it. “The man in your condo was the man you believe killed your mother?”

He thought it was someone else? “I know he killed her. He as much as admitted it.”

Wyatt swallowed what he’d been about to say. Had he thought the suited, silver-haired man in her apartment was some kind of thug?

Nina sighed. “I know you don’t believe me. I know you think that I just want to believe it wasn’t my father and that I’m making up a story.”

Wyatt started to shake his head. “That’s not—”

“I’m not asking you to believe something you don’t know, Wyatt. You weren’t there that day, but I was. My father didn’t do it. It had to have been Mr. Thomas. There’s no other explanation.”

She sucked in a breath to control the riot of emotions. Tired and beat-up, she probably wasn’t in any frame of mind to do this. But if Mr. Thomas thought she was going to leave things alone now, he was delirious. There was no way Nina would let this lie. Not after he’d attacked her.

She gritted her teeth. “He found out I’ve been asking questions about my mother’s death, and he came after me because of it. That means he’s guilty.”

She turned to the officers and gave them her mother’s name. The date. If she’d had the file already she’d have given them the FBI’s case number.

Nina turned to Wyatt. “Did you call the FBI and ask them about the file?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, but I will.”

It hadn’t been long since he’d made lunch in her kitchen. She hoped he really would do that. She had a serious problem with anyone who said they were going to do something and then didn’t, and she had ever since her life had been consumed with warring parents who made outlandish promises to her just to one-up each other. They had never found it necessary to keep their promises. Then one day both of them were gone.

Wyatt frowned. “We should let you rest. Not that they think any of the tranquilizer in that needle got into you. It’s being tested for fingerprints. But still...”

Nina lay back in bed. Her shoulder was sore where the needle had broken off inside her. But fingerprints? She didn’t think he’d been that careless. Had he been wearing gloves? “It was Mr. Thomas who tried to run me over this morning. It was him who pretended to be a clerk at the federal courthouse in Baltimore to keep me from getting the file.”

What else was she forgetting to tell him?

Wyatt shook his head. “I just don’t want you to worry yourself. You should worry about resting until you’re healed.”

Nina shot him a look. Wyatt opened his mouth to argue with her, but the door swung open.

“She’s awake?” Sienna rushed in, Parker right behind her. She virtually shoved Wyatt out of the way and hopped up on the bed.

The two officers slipped out before the door shut. Wyatt got up, and he and Parker huddled in the corner to converse quietly about who knew what. Probably the imaginary man who had killed her mother and how she could have dreamed up him being in her condo—and attacking her.

Okay, so she was making assumptions. He had said that he saw Mr. Thomas himself. Maybe Wyatt was starting to believe her.

Nina found herself enveloped in a hug. She blinked back tears, and her friend leaned back with Nina still in her embrace. Sienna tipped her head to one side. “He found you, and now he’s trying to kill you?”

“Looks that way.”

“So now we have to find him and catch him first?”

“You’re married. Why would you want to be traipsing around after someone who no one thinks exists when you could be at home doing...I don’t know what. Dusting?”

Sienna blinked. “You think I dust?”

“Okay, maybe not.” Her best friend hired a cleaner. Sienna had always hated cleaning toilets, and basically every other part of housekeeping except baking. “But seriously...” Nina shifted her eyes toward Parker, and then back at her friend.

“Parker will help. He does that.” Sienna smiled.

For years it had been the two of them. Did Nina have to actually like the fact that Parker was around all the time now? Sienna didn’t have to rub her face in it.

“You’re not smiling. You have grumpy face.” Sienna paused. “Does it hurt that bad?”

Nina shrugged.

“While you were on the floor of your condo, Wyatt chased Mr. Thomas out your bedroom window. I heard him giving the description to the cops. He saw him.”

Nina slumped back on the bed. Wyatt, chasing a man like Mr. Thomas from her place. Then he sat there like it was no big deal to her, and just asked questions. As though she was some witness he had to get information out of. “I’m tired and sore.”

“Maybe so, but you’re also mad. I’ll make some calls and we’ll find out who this Mr. Thomas guy was. Is.” Sienna’s eyes were narrow. “Then he’ll know why it’s a bad idea to try and do in my best friend.”

Nina rolled her eyes, though she didn’t doubt her friend’s skills. She had been keeping Sienna updated on her lack of progress, but that didn’t mean her friend was going to be involved in clearing Nina’s father. If Mr. Thomas was going to show up and do things like this, Nina wasn’t going to let the outcome ripple outward and hit people she cared about. Innocent people.

“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.

“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.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Sienna didn’t understand, and likely the damage was already done. There wasn’t an inch of her life that didn’t have Sienna as part of it. Mr. Thomas wouldn’t hesitate to use that against Nina. And now with Sienna pregnant on top of everything?

“Call Parker. I’m sure he’ll pick you up.”

“I drove my car here.” Sienna looked like she was about to cry. It was a kick in the stomach when Nina wanted nothing more than to spend the morning with her best friend thinking up possible baby names.

Nina clenched her stomach and looked her friend in the eye. “Please go. I’ll be fine.”

Because if Sienna was here when Mr. Thomas came around again, she wouldn’t be able to guarantee her friend’s safety.

Sienna didn’t move. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Why you’re pushing me away all of a sudden.” She got up. “I know. And if anything happens to you, I’m going to kill Mr. Thomas myself.”

Nina didn’t smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

Sienna grabbed her purse and swept out of the room, probably fighting tears. Because Nina was doing the same thing. When the door shut behind her friend, Nina let them come. With tears streaming down her face, she cried out all the fear she’d ever felt for her friend and the worry she had over Sienna’s future. And then she prayed.

Everything was finally going right for her friend. Sienna had survived a dangerous career as a CIA agent, amnesia, a fight to the death with bad guys prepared to kill her and a sniper shot to the shoulder. Now she was married and pregnant. Sienna’s life had to be safeguarded. Even if that meant Nina was completely alone for the rest of her life. At least she would know Sienna was safe and happy.

The doctor strode in, took one look at her and said, “Uh...”

She waved off his concern and blubbered through the entire exit procedure. When he left her to get dressed in the fresh clothes Sienna had brought her, Nina cried through that, too.

She wasn’t under any illusions that Sienna believed she could do this alone. Nina knew it would be the hardest thing she ever faced. Mr. Thomas was going to come back for her again. Because there was no way Nina was going to give up this fight.

And neither would he.

That was why she couldn’t rely on Wyatt either. She wasn’t going to be party to another death. Nina didn’t need that on her conscience. Besides, why would Wyatt want someone like her? Nina wasn’t a catch. She was a thirtysomething retired CIA agent starting her life over from scratch. All she really had was a bank account—money her parents had left her, plus what she’d earned in the last ten years when she’d had extremely low overhead, sharing a condo with Sienna.

Dollars didn’t give her worth, she knew that. But Nina didn’t know how to be normal, or how to be around anyone but Sienna. She was getting used to Parker’s being part of their lives, but Wyatt was a people person. Nina was only a “Sienna” person. She had been for as long as she could remember. The rest of her life she didn’t want to remember—she just wanted to be free of it.

Wyatt would expect more of her. And when this business with Mr. Thomas didn’t wrap itself up nice and neatly, he would be disappointed.

Nina pulled the shirt on over her sore body and winced. A knock on the door brought her head around. “Come in.”

The door opened and Wyatt entered. Nina let go of the breath she’d been holding and grabbed her purse.

“There’s no rush. I parked as close as I could to the door without getting in trouble.”

“Sorry?”

Wyatt frowned. “Sienna didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head. “Tell me what?”

“She asked me to pick you up, said she had something to do this morning.”

“I don’t need a ride.”

“How about a trip to Portland? Are you good for a couple of hours in the car? Because there’s something you need to see.” He lifted a paper file and waved it at her. “And then we have an interview to do on a related case that might be connected to your mother’s murder.”

“Are you serious?”

He nodded.

A lead, and she didn’t have to go home to her condo and the memories of what Mr. Thomas had done? That sounded like a win-win to Nina. “Let’s go.”

FIVE

Wyatt pulled up in front of the house and parked. “Her name is Theresa Hammett, seventy-one. Works the checkout at a high-end health food grocer. I called while you were sleeping.”

“Sorry about that.” Nina brushed hair back from her cheeks. “I didn’t get much rest last night.”

Why did she feel guilty for having slept on the drive to Portland? He’d been content to listen to the radio and know she was recharging while he drove. It did his heart good, especially since every time he closed his eyes all he saw was Nina on the floor of her condo, unconscious.

“Theresa’s here, and she’s prepared to talk to us. The investigating detectives haven’t gained a new lead on her daughter’s murder in months. I didn’t mention your personal connection to this, but she knows we’re here because of a case that could possibly be linked.”

Nina cracked the car door. “The daughter was married?”

Wyatt said, “Divorced, the husband is army. One child, a girl. Emily.”

“Same MO.”

He nodded. “There are some distinct similarities. That’s why it was flagged with your mom’s case.”

“She was stabbed?”

“Actually, no. It was blunt force trauma to the side of her head that killed her.”

So far there was no correlation in the manner of death, only the situation of the murder victim—female, married or recently divorced, one female child. Wyatt was having trouble making sense of any of it. Least of all, how this man—if it really was a serial killer—picked his victims.

“Let’s go.” He got out his side and came around the car. Nina moved like the drive had stiffened all her muscles, the bruises making themselves known. He’d been in enough fights that he knew what that felt like.

They walked up to the front door side by side while Nina brushed her hair down with her fingers and smoothed out her clothes.

Wyatt lifted his hand to knock, and the door opened. “Mrs. Hammett?”

The woman was five-two with light brown skin, dark hair and eyes, and a trim figure that said clearly she wasn’t about to let being in her seventies stop her from doing all the active things she wanted. She smiled at them, not happy, more hopeful and pleasant. Wyatt decided then that she likely had devoted regulars at the grocery store who went in for purchases but stayed for the conversation she offered. She just had that kind of warm demeanor.

“Deputy Marshal Ames?”

He smiled. “Wyatt is fine. This is Nina Holmes, a friend of mine.”

Theresa led them to a stylish living room and offered them coffee. When they were all settled with mugs, he asked a few general questions about her daughter. As Theresa’s eyes started to fill with moisture, he pulled back and added in questions about the husband.

“He’s a good man,” Theresa said. “A little hotheaded, but he never crossed any line.”

“Why the divorce?”

“Abigail said she fell out of love. Mason was gone so much she felt like they’d stopped connecting. Emily was nine when they split. Not old enough to understand why two people quit loving each other, but old enough to open up about her feelings. Since Abigail’s death it’s like she closed off. Too much, too soon, I suppose. She may be talking to someone, but it’s certainly not me.”

Nina reached out and squeezed Theresa’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Theresa swallowed and nodded. She sipped her coffee and sat back in the chair. “Abigail didn’t always make the best choices, but she loved life. She loved her husband well while she did, and treated him well enough when she didn’t. Emily was the world to her, so much that it’s left Emily adrift without her mother. I try to fill the gap, but what do I know about being twelve?” The smile was gone so fast it was almost a mirage.

Wyatt said, “Can I ask... Was Abigail seeing anyone?”

Theresa nodded. “She kept it pretty secret, but I could see the change. At first I wondered if she wasn’t reconnecting with Mason, but when I asked about it she said she’d met someone. It lasted maybe four months before she was killed.”

Nina perked up. “Did you ever meet him?”

“No. She had plans to bring him around, but he always had business. After she was killed I never had anyone come by to pay condolences. I kept waiting for a man I’d never seen before to show up at the house and pay his respects.” Theresa shrugged. “He never did.”

Nina deflated. Wyatt shifted on the couch, tempted to squeeze her shoulder, but he could comfort her later. He knew how important it was to her that she discover Mr. Thomas’s real identity.

He asked Theresa, “Abigail’s ex-husband, Mason, was originally the prime suspect. What were your thoughts on that?”

“He didn’t do it.”

“You’re sure?”

Theresa wrinkled her nose. “He was deployed. That’s why they thought he might have done it. There was a question as to whether he’d managed to get home somehow, for a day, without anyone knowing. I told the police it was ridiculous. They didn’t know how he felt about her, how he’d always felt about her. Mason claimed he fell out of love with Abigail at the time they were divorcing, but I never saw it. The way he looked at her?” Theresa shook her head. “He loved her. I think he loved her enough that when she asked for a divorce, he let her go so she could live the life she wanted.”

“What made the police change their minds?”

“Emily was adamant Abigail’s boyfriend was the one who killed her.”

Nina reacted. This story was sounding more and more familiar, though thankfully this time the husband hadn’t gone to prison for murder. Wyatt knew from the file that he’d never been charged, since there hadn’t ever been enough evidence beyond the fact that Abigail had possibly argued with someone and either fallen, or been pushed, onto the dresser, slamming the side of her head hard enough to kill her.

Nina’s back was straight, as though all the muscles had locked in place. “Did the police ever find the man who did it?”

Theresa shook her head. “There was nothing in her house, on her phone, or on her computer that indicated she’d been in a relationship. Emily was the only one who’d seen him, and I’d only heard about him. I didn’t even know his name. Abigail never told me. When the police couldn’t find him, they didn’t know whether to even believe he existed. They wanted to know if Emily was prone to making up stories, as though she’d created him to cover for her father.”

Wyatt was going to follow up with the detectives and ask. He’d have likely thought the same thing, though. Especially when there was no physical evidence a person even existed, only the word of a traumatized child whose mother had died. “Is there anything else you can think of that might help us find out who it was that Abigail was seeing?”

Nina glanced at him, and he knew what she was thinking. But the child, despite living here, wasn’t present. When he’d called ahead, Theresa had told him she was sleeping over at a friend’s house for the weekend. Wyatt had figured that was a big part of why they were there, Theresa trying to shield Emily from any more trauma.

Nina wasn’t going to get an interview with the kid. As much as he wanted to help her, Wyatt wasn’t going to let her push just because she wanted results. They’d have to figure this out the right way, and not by barreling over people’s lives and emotions. Her own mother had been killed and her father framed. He got that she wanted answers more than anything and that she didn’t have a whole lot to lose by following through. Especially when Mr. Thomas had paid her a visit.

Maybe he could convince her to let him finish out the investigation on his own. Mr. Thomas didn’t need to know. He’d only see that Nina was leaving it alone. Then she’d be safe, and he could find the answers for her.

The front door swung open. All three of them turned to see a slim African-American preteen stride in. “Gramma! I’m home!”

* * *

Nina stood. The twelve-year-old had long, curly brown hair and big almond eyes. In ten years she was going to be a knockout with a deceased mother and an absent father. If Theresa wasn’t careful, this girl was going to lose her way big-time. Nina was going to add the girl to her prayer list.

Emily set her hand on her hip. “What is this? What’s going on?” She glanced through Nina and Wyatt to her grandmother.

Theresa stood. “Honey, what happened at Shanelle’s?”

“Vanessa and Trish were colossal jerks so I rode my bike home.”

“Honey, you should have texted me.”

“I was so mad I needed a time-out, Gramma.”

Nina felt her lips twitch. Had she ever had this much presence or attitude? The girl was a spitfire, that was for sure. Nina was a little less worried about her now.

“So what’s going on?”

Wyatt stepped forward. “I’m Deputy Marshal Ames. You can call me Wyatt. This is Nina Holmes.”

“Not a marshal?”

Nina shook her head. “I was a CIA agent.”

The girl’s eyes flashed wide. “Seriously, a CIA agent?”

“I’m retired now, but yes.”

“Epic.”

Nina laughed. Wyatt’s low, manly chuckle sounded like a rumble. She glanced at Theresa and saw the resigned look on her face, then stepped forward. “Would it be okay if I talked to you?”

“About my mom?”

“How did you know that?”

The girl shrugged. “What else would it be?”

Nina waved in the direction of the couches. “Would you sit with us, Emily?”

The girl dumped her purse on the hall floor and strode over. “Sure. Whatever. Can I take a selfie with you and put it on Instagram? All my friends will be so mad I met a CIA agent.”

“No. Sorry.”

Emily shrugged. “Worth a try.” She slumped into the armchair opposite her grandmother, and Wyatt and Nina both took their seats again. “What do you want to know?”

Nina led in, asking the girl where she had been when her mom was killed—staying at her gramma’s that night—and how she’d come home from school to find her mom. Her dad’s face when they had told him had been the hardest part for Emily. Then Nina asked her the best thing she remembered about her mother, and the favorite thing they would do together.

After Emily relaxed, Nina got down to the serious stuff. “The police report includes a statement that you made about your mom’s boyfriend at the time. Can you tell me about him?”

Emily’s nose wrinkled, almost an exact copy of her grandmother’s face. “He was older, and he always wore a suit. At least the couple of times I saw him.”

Nina held her reaction in. If this girl could help her figure out who Mr. Thomas was, they would be one step closer to finding and catching him. “What did he look like?”

“His hair was gray, with only a sprinkle of black. He had a square white face. Blue eyes. Some lines on his face.” Emily glanced to the side, like she was remembering. “Veins stuck out on the back of his hands, and they weren’t rough like Dad’s. He wasn’t anything like Dad. He had money. We went to an expensive restaurant, and I had to wear a dress.” She made another face. “But he was nice. Not really friendly, just pleasant. Snooty.”