TOUGH JUSTICE: Justice is worth every sacrifice.

Episode Six: Ambushed

Special Agent Lara Grant joined the Crisis Management Unit to have a fresh start at solving crimes. A fresh start at life. Instead she’s being dragged back to the past by a man who can’t let go. Moretti has been playing them all from the start, but the time for games is over. With the lives around her in jeopardy, including her own, Lara’s next move had better be the right one—if she wants to stay alive...

Justice is worth every sacrifice.

A brand-new 8-part reading experience starting January 12, 2016!

FBI agent Lara Grant has finally put her life as an undercover operative behind her and started a new assignment in New York City. But her past and present collide and become ever more twisted as a spate of murders sends a message that is cruelly, chillingly personal...

Tough Justice: Exposed (Part 1 of 8) by New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy

Tough Justice: Watched (Part 2 of 8) by Tyler Anne Snell

Tough Justice: Burned (Part 3 of 8) by Carol Ericson

Tough Justice: Trapped (Part 4 of 8) by Gail Barrett

Tough Justice: Twisted (Part 5 of 8) by Gail Barrett

Tough Justice: Ambushed (Part 6 of 8) by Carol Ericson

Tough Justice: Betrayed (Part 7 of 8) by Tyler Anne Snell

Tough Justice: Hunted (Part 8 of 8) by New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy

CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Tough Justice: Ambushed (Part 6 of 8)
Carol Ericson

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About Tough Justice

About the Author

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

How could the DNA be a match for Moretti’s?

Not possible. Lara ground her palms into her temples in an effort to stop the spinning of her head. She doubled over, almost touching her forehead to her knees.

The others in the conference room were all talking at once, but their words washed over Lara in a confusing froth. She couldn’t even put two coherent thoughts together in her own head, let alone trying to process the exclamations from everyone else.

Suddenly, her head shot up. “The brother! Mei figured it out when she saw that photo from the sewer. Andrew Moretti’s identical twin, who was supposedly dead, burned beyond all recognition. It has to be. Damn. I should have put it together earlier. When Mei asked about dyslexia and I said no, she nodded, as if the final piece fit. She also had Moretti’s background file on her desk. She knew but never got the chance to tell us.”

“So unless Moretti is a magician, in two places at once—” Victoria drew two black circles on the whiteboard “—his twin, Mason, didn’t die in that fire.”

“Who did?” Xander dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

Lara didn’t blame him. A definite fog had encompassed her brain, too. She took a gulp of coffee. “If the death in the fire was an accident, why would the brothers perpetuate the hoax that Mason died in the house?”

“And if it wasn’t an accident?” Ty snapped the tab on a can of soda, the liquid promptly fizzing over and down his hand. He didn’t seem to notice. Didn’t seem to care

“That would mean—” Victoria circled the black dots on the white board “—two seventeen-year-old boys plotted murder and deceit for some future goal.”

Lara gripped her upper arms. At seventeen, boys should be focused on saving money to buy a car, making first string on the football team, asking a girl to the prom.

Not cold-blooded murder and mayhem. Her gaze shifted to the black circles on the whiteboard, disconcertingly like Moretti’s own dark eyes.

“If the blond is Mason Moretti, and it appears that he must be—” Lara jumped up from her chair and paced the room “—where’s he been all these years? Has he been hiding out? Working behind the scenes for his brother? Running a parallel syndicate in another country?”

Xander snapped his fingers. “What if we have the wrong brother in prison? What if Mason was the Moretti when the bust went down?”

“Then we wouldn’t have the wrong brother, because there wouldn’t be a wrong brother.” Cass poked two fingers beneath her glasses and rubbed her eye. “If they both played at being the boss, then they’re both guilty of unspeakable crimes.”

Parking herself next to Nick holding up the wall, Lara chewed on her bottom lip. “Identical twins don’t have identical fingerprints. That’s why Mason’s prints from the glass weren’t in the system. He’d been booked a few times as a juvenile offender, but his records are missing.”

“I’m still working on recovering that deleted file, but nothing yet,” Cass added. “That hacker was good...but I’m better. I just need more time.”

Nick leveled a finger at Xander. “Following his line of thought, the fingerprints don’t matter. Andrew Moretti’s prints weren’t in the database, either, since the US Army’s records were also hacked and deleted. The only prints we have are from the syndicate bust.”

“Wait, wait.” Lara pushed off the wall. “So, the Moretti we have locked up could be either brother, and the same for the man walking the streets dating my sister.”

“That’s right.” Nick dipped his chin to his chest. “The brothers could’ve been switching identities whenever it suited them.”

Ty smacked a folder on the table. The papers fanned out, and a few drifted to the floor.

Lara shot a worried look at Ty. Ever since Mei’s death, he’d kept his anger and frustration bubbling just beneath his usually cool exterior. She didn’t want to be around when he exploded.

Cass tossed her glasses on the table next to her laptop. “I’m confused. Do you mean the man we have locked up might be Mason instead of Andrew?”

“You said it yourself.” Nick crossed his arms and drummed his fingers against his bicep. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We have at least one Moretti, thanks to Lara and the takedown team, and we’ll get the other son of a bitch so he can join his brother.”

Lara dropped back into a chair, extending her legs in front of her. Which brother had she gotten to know? Whoever had played the arms commander role in the syndicate had fooled her—and turned out to be Moretti, or at least the Moretti they’d nailed in the end.

Ty bent over to sweep up the papers he’d knocked to the floor. “This is all interesting, but we have two other issues to deal with here.”

Lara interrupted, her heart pounding. “Number one, what’s Moretti doing with my sister?”

Xander added. “And who’s the poor sap taking up space in Mason’s grave?”

Victoria dipped her head. “We’re going to have to order an exhumation of the Moretti body.”

A muscle jumped in Lara’s jaw as she clenched it. An exhumation? She’d have to be there, whether she wanted to be or not.

Cass looked up from the computer. “Wouldn’t law enforcement have ID’d the body after the fire?”

Nick perched on the edge of the conference table. “Absolutely, but with everything we’re learning about these two, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that they planted DNA or did something to cover those bases. Poor Andrew Moretti was completely distraught and traumatized that his twin died in the fire, probably wailing and gnashing his teeth that he couldn’t save his brother. Why wouldn’t they believe him? The brother disappears and the deception is born.”

“At seventeen?” Xander leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “Shit, I was trying out for my prep school’s lacrosse team.”

“I was—” Nick’s gaze shifted toward the window as he dragged the pad of his thumb across his jawbone “—never mind.”

Victoria hovered over Cass’s shoulder. “I don’t want to overburden you here, Cass, but along with finding Mason’s juvenile records, can you look into putting together an order for the judge for an exhumation?”

“No problem.” Cass clicked the laptop buttons with a flourish. “Burial site would be The Evergreens Cemetery in Brooklyn? King’s County?”

“Yes, alongside their parents.” Victoria dusted her hands together as if knocking off tasks on a list. “Now we need to find out what the hell the other Moretti brother is up to with your sister, Lara.”

Lara pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut for a second. “I’m going to have to talk to Meghan, find out what’s been going on.”

“Looks like you’re preparing for a root canal instead of a conversation with your sister.” Nick nudged her with his elbow. “Do you want some company?”

Crossing her arms, she hunched her shoulders to her ears. “This is something I’d better do alone. I can’t imagine Meghan is going to welcome the news that the man she’s been dating has an ulterior motive other than his overwhelming attraction to her.”

Xander whistled. “And the fact that the ulterior motive is you is really going to piss her off.”

Nick asked, “Are you sure you don’t want some backup?”

“Backup?” Lara pushed away from the conference table. “Meghan’s my sister, not a perp. I can handle Meghan.”

As Victoria started issuing orders to the team, Nick drew Lara close. “I know how difficult it is dealing with an uncooperative sibling. I’m there if you want some help.”

She squared her shoulders. “I don’t need help with Meghan.”

A veil dropped over Nick’s dark eyes, and pinpricks of guilt needled the back of her neck. The man had been through hell and back on this investigation. He deserved a better partner—one he could trust. He’d even been willing to open up to her.

“I appreciate the offer, Nick.” She cleared her throat. “I know you know what it’s like, but I have to do this by myself. I think having anyone else there to witness her embarrassment would drive Meghan even further into the abyss.”

“She has nothing to be embarrassed about. The Moretti brothers are master manipulators, and she got played.” He lifted one brow. “No shame in that—especially for a civilian.”

Lara’s stomach rolled. No shame for a civilian but plenty of shame for a seasoned law enforcement professional. Is that what he was implying?

Meghan wasn’t the first to be bamboozled by the twins—and wouldn’t be the last. Even behind bars, Andrew continued to pull strings that had far-reaching consequences—deadly consequences.

“I’d better go deliver the bad news before she heads to work tonight.”

“I suppose it’s a stretch to believe Mason will show up at the Hot Spot tonight.” Ty grabbed his jacket and stuffed his arms in the sleeves.

“Probably, but we’ll be there anyway if Lara’s sister is working.” Victoria pointed at his jacket. “You leaving early?”

“If something urgent comes up, call me on my cell.” He picked some lint from his jacket. “I gotta go home and check on Mei’s cat.”

Cass peered over the top of her laptop and blinked. “Take good care of that cat, Ty.”

Coughing, Xander rubbed his eye. “It sucks, man. Talk at me if you need to, although I’ll probably make things worse. Talk to Dr. Oliviero instead.”

Ty raised two fingers and saluted in the air as he walked out of the room.

Lara caught up with him at the elevator. They rode in silence to the ground floor, and then Lara put her hand on Ty’s arm as he exited the car. “We’ll bring them down, Ty. We’ll make them pay...for everything.”

He turned to her on the sidewalk. “I know that. I believe that, but right now I just need to take care of that heartbroken cat.”

Chapter Two

Lara took a taxi to Meghan’s place with a lump in her throat for Mei, for Ty and for the cat. Now she had to disrupt her sister’s life again.

Why did she have to be the bearer of bad news? Not that bringing good news would change Meghan’s opinion of her. In Meghan’s eyes, she was the bad guy and always would be.

And why should she care how Meghan felt about her? Her sister was no picnic, either.

Lara had worked hard to keep up the barriers she’d erected when she’d lost her parents. Once her mother had died, she’d essentially lost both parents. Her father had withdrawn—whether from grief or guilt, maybe Lara would never know—and she’d felt abandoned. She’d discovered the best way to deal with those feelings was to wall off her heart from further abuse.

Why had she let Andrew Moore in? He was good at spinning a story and had pushed all her buttons.

She shook her head. Lara was grasping at excuses for getting played by Andrew Moore, but she’d played him just as surely as he’d done her. Did that mean he’d let down his guard, too? The arms commander had seemed as needy and lost as she’d felt.

Whatever Andrew Moore had seemed, Moretti was a different animal altogether...and no soul mate of hers.

Had he plotted and planned out this life of his at seventeen? Hard to believe, but facts didn’t lie. Why else had he and his twin hatched this scheme? Why else had they committed murder as teenagers? Because unless that body currently taking up residence in Mason Moretti’s grave had already been dead, that’s exactly what those two teens had done.

She dragged in a breath and shoved her hair back from her face, murmuring, “Just don’t shoot the messenger, Meghan.”

Lara climbed the stairs to Meghan’s place. She filled her lungs with the stale air from the building and straightened her spine. She knocked on the door, putting on a serious but compassionate face for the peephole.

She heard rustling on the other side of the door and then an expletive. Meghan wouldn’t be rolling out the red carpet for her sister, but at least she was home and would open the door.

Wouldn’t she?

She knocked again. “Meghan? I need to talk to you.”

“What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

“I know I’m the last person you want to see.” Lara leaned her forehead against the door. “Look, it’s important. You’re gonna want to hear this.”

“I doubt that.”

Metal scraped metal as Meghan slid three dead bolts. She swung open the door, keeping one hand on the doorknob and one against the doorjamb. “What?”

Lara’s gaze skimmed across Meghan’s slicked-back ponytail and fresh face, devoid of makeup. “You look nice.”

“Cut the crap.” Meghan’s hand slid from the doorjamb and landed on her curvy hip, a sliver of skin visible between the low-slung jeans and loose peasant blouse. “What do you want now?”

Lara pointed past her sister’s shoulder. “Can we talk inside?”

“Oh, yeah, because it’s so important.” But she swung open the door and stepped back. “And keep it down. My roommate’s sleeping.”

“Is she sick?” Lara took in the tiny living room with one sweeping glance.

“He’s a comedian. Has an improv show in the Village tonight—late.” Two pink spots flagged Meghan’s cheeks, and an accusatory gleam flashed from her wide eyes as if Lara had somehow tricked her into revealing more personal details about her life than she’d wanted to reveal.

Hang on, sister, because it’s about to get a lot more personal.

“I’ll keep my voice down.” Lara took a few hesitant steps into the room, but Meghan, her arms folded over her chest, made no move to follow her. No invitation to sit down. No offer of refreshment.

What did she expect? This was no social call, and Meghan knew it.

“Can we sit?” Without waiting for an answer, Lara sank to the flowered, thrift-shop sofa.

“Help yourself, sis. You always do—you and your mother.”

Lara closed her eyes for a second, her nostrils flaring. Meghan’s bitchy attitude just might make this conversation a little easier.

“You’re seeing someone—a tall blond who wears sunglasses and a baseball cap, sometimes a cowboy hat.”

Meghan’s jaw dropped. “You have got to be kidding me. Are you spying on me now?”

“What’s he calling himself, this man?” Lara clamped her hands on her bouncing knees.

“I’m not going to tell you shit. It’s none of your business.” Meghan’s chest rose and fell beneath her low-cut blouse, the bird wings tattoo beneath her collarbone taking flight.

“He’s dangerous, Meghan. Today we found out that he’s the twin brother of the guy we locked up, the trafficking kingpin, Moretti.”

“So?” Meghan’s jaw hardened, and her eyes glittered, giving her face a frozen quality, a stubborn quality. God, just like their father.

“So?” Lara struggled against the soft cushions of the sofa to sit forward. “Are you crazy? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

She rolled her shoulders. “His brother’s in prison. Trevor is not.”

Lara thrust out her hand as if she could physically stop the words coming out of Meghan’s mouth. “Someone connected to this case lures me to the Hot Spot, knowing you work there, knowing we’re sisters.”

“Half.”

“Half sisters, and then the brother of the man we locked up starts hitting on you? Really? You’re okay with that?”

“Since he hit on me and not you, what’s the problem?”

“You have no idea what this Trevor’s brother is capable of. He’s a monster. And why did Trevor give you a false name?”

“Uh, duh, because his brother’s in prison.” Meghan winked. “We don’t have the same last name either.”

“You can’t be serious.” Lara jumped up and circled the small room. “Mason Moretti, because that’s lover boy’s real name, has an ulterior motive for dating you.”

“Why? Because it’s impossible for you to believe that someone could want me for myself?”

“Absolutely not. I’m sure you have a lot to offer any man, but not this one. He’s playing you, Meghan. For what purpose, I don’t know yet, probably to get at me.”

Laughing, Meghan shook her head, her ponytail waving back and forth. “That’s it. It always comes back to you.”

“No. This is about you.” Lara grabbed her sister’s arm, digging her fingers into her soft flesh. “Mason and Andrew Moretti are more than brothers. They’re twins, and they’ve been playing some kind of sick game for years. Do you know why we didn’t even know about Mason’s existence until now?”

“Because you’re a bunch of Keystone Kops?” Meghan jerked out of her grasp.

“Because—” Lara ground her back teeth “—Mason Moretti has supposedly been dead all these years. When the twins were seventeen, their house burned down. Andrew Moretti identified the dead body in the ruins as his twin brother, Mason.”

“Fascinating.” But Meghan’s lips, which had been twisted into a smirk, twitched, and her eyes widened.

“That means those two seventeen-year-olds not only plotted the disappearance of one brother, but they probably committed murder to supply a substitute body for Mason.”

“That’s all speculation on your part.” Meghan waved her hands in the air. “I’m not going out with Mason Moretti. I’m dating Trevor Black, and we’re falling in love.”

Meghan’s words socked her in the gut. Meghan had to be saying that just to needle her. She barely knew the man. In fact, she didn’t know him at all, since he’d been lying from the get-go.

Had she known Andrew Moore any better?

“Meghan, don’t be so stubborn. This isn’t about you and me. These men are vicious. They’re users. Trevor Black isn’t in love. He doesn’t give a shit about you. He planned his own death, committed murder, and who knows what other atrocities he’s perpetuated? Get out. Get out now while you still can.”

“No, you get out.” Meghan jabbed her finger at the front door. “Your mother came into my life, uninvited, had you and everything went to shit after that. I didn’t want her in my life then, and I sure as hell don’t want you in my life now.”

Lara huffed out a breath. Always the same. “How can you blame me for that?”

“I lost my father because of you and your mother. Don’t you get it?”

Lara closed her eyes and unclenched her jaw. “This isn’t about the past, Meghan. It’s about the here and now. I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re trying to get information about Trevor. This has nothing to do with protecting me.” Meghan narrowed her hazel eyes.

“So give it to me. Tell me all about Trevor.”

“Get the hell out of my place and don’t come back.”

A man shuffled into the room from the back, his dark, curly hair sticking up in all directions. “What’s going on out here?”

Lara pointed past his shoulder. “Out. This is personal.”

Meghan snorted. “There is nothing personal between us. This is business, and you’re not getting into mine.”

Meghan’s roommate held up his hands and backed up, leaving her and Meghan glaring at each other.

Meghan called after him. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Felix. My half sister was just leaving.”

“We’re not letting this go.” Lara stalked to the front door. Hanging on to the doorjamb, she turned to face her sister. “This is no joke, Meghan. Your life is in danger.”

Meghan slammed the door on her warning.

Lara slumped against the wall. How could Meghan be so pigheaded? If anyone else had told Meghan what she’d just laid out for her about her new boyfriend, she’d tell Trevor Black to hit the road in no time.

Maybe she should’ve invited Nick along. He couldn’t have had any worse luck than she just had.

She slid into the car and tipped her head against the headrest. The one bright spot in this mess was that once Mason Moretti knew they’d made him, he wouldn’t be visiting Meghan anytime soon for fear of being picked up. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to see her on the sly—and Meghan seemed only too willing to oblige him.

In love? Did Meghan actually believe she loved this man and vice versa? He must be a charmer...just like his twin brother.

Lara’s phone buzzed, and she shoved her hand in her pocket to retrieve it. She checked the display and tapped it once. “Hey, Victoria.”

“Did you talk to your sister?”

“Like banging my head against a wall.”

“Did she admit to having a relationship with Mason?”

“It’s Trevor Black, thankyouverymuch, and not only did she admit to the relationship, she admitted to falling in love.”

Victoria sucked in a breath. “She’s old enough to know better. Do you think she’s just saying that to spite you?”

“Who knows? I think so. They haven’t been seeing each other for long. Nick and I will stake out the Hot Spot tonight. With any luck Mason will come out to play.”

“Luck’s been in short supply lately. Mason probably already knows we’re on to him.”

“Most likely, but it’s worth a try.” And she wouldn’t mind a few hours of quiet time with Nick in the van.

“Speaking of luck, I have Cass contacting all old neighbors of the Morettis. The daughter of one just contacted Cass. Her mother is in an assisted living facility in Queens and is willing to talk—at least give us what she remembers.”

“That’s great. Do you want me to take it?”

“Yes. The others are busy, and Ty’s still not one hundred percent.”

“It’s tough for all of us, but Ty will get there.” Lara pulled a piece of paper and a pen from her pocket. “Give me the woman’s name and the address of the assisted living place. I’ll take a Bureau car and head over there now. Is she expecting me?”

“Yes. I knew this was one interview you wouldn’t turn down, and you’d probably want to handle it on your own.”

Lara bit her lip as she scribbled on the sheet of paper to test the pen. Her boss couldn’t be more wrong. She didn’t need to be alone to plumb the depths of the Moretti riddle. The brothers were a pair of criminals who needed to be picked apart and brought down—nothing more, nothing less.

Victoria gave her the info, and Lara punched the address into her phone’s GPS. Forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the Briar Ridge Assisted Living Facility.

Her boots crunched the little dried berries that had fallen from the trees to the asphalt, and Lara sniffed the air. The trees that bordered the property and the autumn flowers that spilled from a front garden combined for a sweet, fresh scent.

She stepped through the front entrance into a lobby area. The blue-green color scheme and the wall fountain of running water created a soothing environment. Someone knew feng shui.

Lara nodded at the security guard and approached the front desk, staffed by a woman in green to color coordinate with the room. She looked up with a big smile that seemed totally genuine.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mrs. O’Hara. Vivian O’Hara.”

The greeter’s eyebrow lifted. “Are you a relative?”

“Mrs. O’Hara’s daughter, Diane Teller, told us that her mother was interested in talking to us.” Lara flipped open her badge. “I’m Special Agent Lara Grant.”

“One minute, please.” She held up her index finger. “I’ll locate her.”

“Thanks.” Lara turned away from the desk to watch the rivulets of water running down the glass enclosure on the wall.

“Delilah, is Viv O’Hara in the TV room or by the pool?” The woman paused. “Tell her she has a visitor.”

“Agent Grant? Mrs. O’Hara’s in the TV room. It’s across the room and then a left turn.” She tapped a guest book with a pencil. “Would you please sign in?”

Lara printed her name on the next blank line in the guest book and scribbled her signature beside it.

Once she crossed the room, Lara could hear the TV, and she followed the sound. She poked her head into the room. Before she could take one step, a tall African-American woman stopped her.

“Are you here to see Mrs. O’Hara?”

“Yes. Are you Delilah?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Why, yes I am. Vivian’s the one with the long silver mane, sitting right in front of the TV.”

The woman called out. “Fewer distractions sitting up close, Delilah, and there’s nothing wrong with my eyes. Nothing wrong with my ears either. Send her over.”

Delilah smiled and shrugged.

Lara approached Mrs. O’Hara with her hand outstretched. “Mrs. O’Hara, I’m Special Agent Lara Grant. Your daughter told us you’d be willing to talk to us about the Moretti brothers.”

Mrs. O’Hara gave her a thin hand weighed down by several rings, and added a surprisingly firm grip. “Excuse me for not getting up. I bruised my hip, which is why I’m stuck in here and not doing my water aerobics, and you can call me Viv.”

“Hope you’re not too badly injured.” Lara jerked her chin at the TV where a couple on a reality dating show was making out in the hot tub. “And I hope I’m not interrupting your show.”

Viv picked up the remote in her lap and aimed it at the TV, pausing the picture. “It’s recorded. I might fast-forward through this, anyway. I don’t know why she’s kissing this guy. He’s a player.”

Lara pressed her lips together to stop her smile. “And your hip?”

“Just a bruise. Sit, Lara.” She waved at the chair next to hers. “Can I call you Lara?”

“Of course.” Lara perched on the edge, clasping her hands around one knee. “So, what do you remember about the Moretti twins?”

“Why are you asking about them? Diane, my daughter, didn’t mention the reason.”

If reality shows held Viv’s interest more than the news, who was she to burst her bubble? Obviously, Viv’s daughter didn’t want to upset her mother. Lara cleared her throat. “We’re investigating some cold case files in that area, possible arsonist.”

“I hope you catch them.”

“We will. We’re investigating some possible motives. Can you tell me about the Morettis?”

“The twins.” Viv’s faded blue eyes shifted over Lara’s shoulder. “I lived there when the parents were alive. Seemed like a nice couple, an attractive couple anyway. Not too friendly though, but then it was that type of neighborhood. Everyone kept to themselves in those days.”

“Were you there after the parents died and the aunt moved in?”

Viv sniffed. “Aunt, my ass. I never saw any aunt. I never saw any adults around, but the boys stayed in that house until...”

“Until it burned down and Mason died in the fire.”

“That was terrible.” Viv covered her eyes with one hand. “The way that boy carried on.”

Lara swallowed. “Andrew?”

“Wanted to run right back into that house and rescue his brother. The firemen had to restrain him.”

“Did you have much contact with the twins after their parents died? Before the fire?”

“They were nice boys.” Viv patted Lara’s knee. “Very mature, very respectful. That’s why I never called Child Protective Services when it looked like they were living there alone.”

“They didn’t cause any trouble in the neighborhood?”

“The younger twin, Mason, he had a few run-ins with the law before his parents’ accident. I know the police came to the house a few times, but he cleaned up his act after his parents died. No trouble at all out there—until the fire.”

“Did the boys have many visitors to the house, or did they keep a low profile?”

“Those boys didn’t have many friends before or after. I think the father was strict because the way those boys looked—” Viv winked “—you’d think the place would be crawling with girls.”

“They never dated?” Lara clenched her teeth. Thank God they never dated. Who knew what sick tricks they would’ve played on the girls?

“Not that I could tell.” Viv shook her head, making her long, side braid swing back and forth. “No prom dates, no girls at the house—even when they lived there alone. I suppose they didn’t want to call attention to their situation.”

Or they were too busy planning a criminal empire.

Viv tapped Lara’s knee. “The only time I thought the twins might be getting into trouble was when they had those couple of boys over.”

Lara froze. “They had some boys over to the house?”

“Just a few—scruffy-looking characters, if you ask me.”

“Near the time of the fire?” Lara crossed her arms, afraid Viv might see her heart pounding in her chest.

Viv’s face crumpled. “Do you think they might have had something to do with the fire? They were there way before the fire.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Lara shrugged quickly. “What do you mean, scruffy? Were they from the neighborhood? High school friends?”

“Not the neighborhood. These kids looked like drug users. I thought Mason might’ve been getting into trouble again, but it wasn’t that at all.”

“How do you know that, Viv?”

“I asked them.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I saw them in the yard one day, and I asked if those young men were friends of theirs. Do you know what they told me?”

“What?” The blood was thrumming in Lara’s veins now, causing her ears to pulse and her temples to throb.

“Andrew and Mason were helping those boys.” Viv was beaming as if she were their grandmother.

Lara added Viv to the list of unsuspecting people the twins had fooled.

“Helping how?”

“Those young men were down on their luck, runaways maybe, homeless. The boys were giving them some food, some of their old clothes. Imagine losing their own parents and thinking enough of others to help.”

“Yeah, they could put Mother Teresa to shame.”

Viv’s blue eyes flickered. “Do you think one of those scruffy boys could’ve set the fire?”

Lara placed her hands on her knees. More likely those scruffy boys were auditioning for Mason’s body double. “Not sure, Viv, but you’ve been really helpful.”

“Even though my house was in my daughter’s name, she never lived there during that time. She was already out of the house, but when she told me the FBI had contacted her about the Moretti twins, I wanted to help.”

“We absolutely appreciate it, Viv. Call me directly if you think of anything else.” Lara placed her card on the table next to the remote control. “I’ll let you get back to your show, and you can fast-forward through that kiss.”

“Poor girl. That man is a scoundrel.” Viv shook her finger at the TV screen. “How about you, Lara? Have you ever kissed a scoundrel?”

A wave of heat washed into Lara’s face, and she put her hand to her throat. “I sure have, Viv. I’ve kissed a scoundrel or two.”

Chapter Three

Later that night, Lara slumped down in the passenger seat of the van and tugged her hat lower on her forehead. “Do you think there’s a chance Mason will show up tonight? Or maybe even The Ghost?”

“Mason is the better bet, but I think he knows we’re on to him.” Nick yawned and punched the radio button for a different station. “Probably not.”

Lara poked him in his arm—his good arm—and said, “Don’t get too comfortable out here. Mason may surprise us. Maybe he really does have feelings for Meghan.”

Nick turned and raised one eyebrow. “Really? Even if he did develop some kind of relationship with your sister, he already has one relationship that overrides all others.”

“With his brother. Why do you think they pulled that scam when they were teenagers? That just blows me away.”

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