21
Ryan sat with his family in the small alcove off to the right of the rest of the congregation. The seating allowed a semblance of privacy for the family and a good view of those in attendance.
His mother shifted slightly in her seat and he glanced at her. The continued blank look caused a resurgence of concern. Would she even remember the funeral? With a frown, he focused back on what was going on around him.
The sorrow surrounding him threatened to choke him. How he hated funerals. He slid another glance at his mother, then over to his father. The man had been a rock through the past several days.
Usually, he never said much unless he was in full story-telling mode; however, Ryan knew his father well enough to understand that his brain hadn’t shut off since he’d learned of Kevin’s death.
And his poor mother. With each passing minute, she seemed to slip further away into her mind, the vacant expression appearing more on her face than emotion. Sometimes she responded to people, sometimes she didn’t seem capable.
Ryan had seen it before—after combat missions when soldiers had simply suffered too much for their mind to process. So it didn’t. It went to some safe place in order to retreat from reality.
Some never came back and suffered permanent mental illness. He had to make sure that didn’t happen to his mother.
The service passed, a blur of words and music. Ryan appreciated the injection of hope in the message, and he fully believed he’d see his brother again one day in heaven. However, while it truly did comfort him to know that, it didn’t lessen the pain of losing Kevin on earth.
Or the agony of seeing his parents suffering so greatly. And honestly, if one more person told him that Kevin was in a better place, he might just punch them. He sighed.
No, he wouldn’t punch anyone. They were good people who didn’t know what to say so they said the wrong thing. He just had to remind himself of that.
Within the L-shaped church, most of the congregation faced the pulpit. From Ryan’s vantage point in the alcove, he could see the St. John family sitting in the first two rows. Even Derek was there, sitting a ways behind them, looking ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Ryan noticed he’d taken a seat near one of the emergency exits.
What was up with him? But at least he would be there for security. He glanced at the door in the back to his left. It led out to the parking lot. Two officers guarded it. He swung his eyes back to the St. John family and his gaze connected with Izzy’s. The pure sorrow there hit him hard. As well as the raw fury barely held in check.
He got it. He felt it.
Giving her a slow nod, he tried to convey his own thoughts. His agreement with the anger. Her jaw relaxed slightly and she nodded back.
The connection with her shifted something inside of him. He’d always cared about Izzy. Very much. As a teen, she’d never been that awkward, gangly person he remembered his sister being. She’d been pretty and popular, but there was a kindness in her that not everyone had. That was just a part of what drew him to her.
He also realized what he was doing. Thinking about Izzy allowed him to avoid the reality of Kevin’s funeral. He didn’t want to listen, to be aware, to hear everyone’s final goodbyes.
Then his attention was drawn to his left as the side door opened.
A large man stepped inside, wearing a long black overcoat. A mustache and beard covered most of the man’s face, but the minute his eyes connected with Ryan’s, he recognized him.
Lamar Young.
The man from the parking garage.
The one who’d set fire to Izzy’s home. In disguise, but it was him nonetheless. He couldn’t hide that size of his.
The Hulk, as Izzy distastefully referred to him, stood still, his hands hidden in the pockets of his large coat. The door with the wooden trim and glass pane shut behind him.
Ryan stiffened and his hand went to his weapon. It was all he could do not to bolt from his chair. But if he did, would the man pull a weapon and start shooting? What was he here for?
Frozen in place, Ryan glanced to the left and caught the eye of Officer Bob Gillespie. Ryan nodded toward the intruder and mouthed, “Stop him.”
Bob straightened and nudged the other officer, Marco Jamison, who stood beside him. Discreetly, they planted themselves between the newcomer and Ryan’s family.
In a flash, Ryan knew the man was there to make a statement. He was watching, waiting to make his next move. The man’s eyes went to Izzy, deliberate in their perusal of the people who now had their backs to him. He lifted a hand, his fingers in the shape of a gun, pointed it at Izzy, and pulled the “trigger.”
Rage wanted to blind him. Instead, Ryan narrowed his eyes, dipped his hand into his pocket, and pulled out Kevin’s phone. At least he could show Young that Izzy didn’t have it anymore. Maybe he’d quit going after her.
Ryan waved the device at the man, who started toward him. Bob and Marco grabbed his arms and the big man stopped, a snarl twisting his lips.
Ryan dropped the phone back into his pocket. All the while, he kept his other hand on his weapon, ready to draw it and use it if necessary. His family had turned around, watching the scene play out, gaping at the intruder.
Other officers closed in, trying to be discreet but determined to remove the man from the church.
The Hulk didn’t move for a few seconds, then with one last smirk in Ryan’s direction, turned and let himself be ushered out. Six officers followed him to the door and he raised his hands in surrender.
Ryan was grateful the guy didn’t put up a fight, but with all of the security around the church, how had he managed to slip inside in the first place?
Ryan touched his mother’s shoulder and she simply sat there, her blank stare never breaking. He leaned over. “Sorry, Mom,” he whispered in her ear. “I need to take care of something.”
She still didn’t respond and Ryan’s chest tightened. Should he go or stay? The rest of the family was looking at him like he’d grown another head.
Indecision warred within him. Marco and Bob could handle him. Ryan could interrogate him after the funeral.
But this man had something to do with Kevin’s death. He looked at his father and mouthed, “Sorry.”
His dad waved him on and Ryan stepped outside to find Bob and Marco picking themselves up off the ground. Young was nowhere to be seen. Ryan raced over to Bob and helped him to his feet. “Where is he?”
“Gone. He acted like he planned to cooperate, the other officers went back to their posts or the service, and then when it was just the two of us, he unleashed those massive fists on us. Once we were down, he jumped into a car he had waiting and took off.”
Marco was still on the ground. He groaned and pressed a hand to his cheek. “Broken,” he gasped. “Arghhhh!”
“Bob, he’s the one who blew up Izzy’s home. Go after him if you can and I’ll call an ambulance for Marco!” Two more officers arrived. “John, you and Shelly go too.”
Bob flinched as he swiped the blood from his cheek, then he and the others climbed into their cruisers and took off. Ryan could see Bob spitting words into his microphone as he raced from the church parking lot. Other officers fell in behind him. He badly wanted to join in the chase, but Marco needed him.
Ryan rushed back to the wounded man’s side and knelt next to him. “Hang on, Marco.” He got on his phone and requested an ambulance, then gave the dispatcher the information she needed to send more officers in the right direction after Bob and Young.
The door opened behind him and he turned to see Izzy hurrying toward him. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Marco’s hurt. I’ve got an ambulance on the way. The press is focused on the front of the church right now, but when the ambulance gets here, they’re going to know something’s up. Be prepared.”
“Got it.” She hurried to the man’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Help’s coming. Just be as still as possible.”
He nodded and shut his eyes, letting his head rest on the ground.
Izzy looked up at Ryan. “What happened?”
“Your fri—Lamar Young, the Hulk.”
She grimaced and paled. “Great. I only got a glimpse of him when he stepped inside—I thought his build resembled the dude. Wonderful. Just wonderful.”
Ryan wished he could have kept the information from her, but there wasn’t any sense in even trying.
“He came looking for me?” she asked.
“He came looking for something. Regardless, he knows I have the phone now.”
Her eyes widened. “How does he know that?”
“I showed it to him.” Taunted him with it, actually, but he’d keep that to himself.
The ambulance pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing but siren off. Within seconds, the paramedics were working on Marco—and the press was rounding the side of the church to chase down the excitement.
Ryan ignored them. Marco grunted and waved at Ryan.
“What is it?”
“Geh -ack in deh,” Marco whispered. “Doan -iss deh ressss.”
It was hard to understand him, but Ryan knew what the man meant. He squeezed his bicep and nodded. “Come on,” he said to Izzy. “Let’s get back inside before my mother decides to kill me.”
Izzy shuddered. “That’s not the least bit funny.”
“I didn’t mean it to be.”
He ushered her back in. Fortunately, the only ones who noticed their exit and reentry were his family. No one seated in the pews of the church facing the pulpit could see them coming in the side door. Ryan continued to stand. Izzy stayed beside him. Lilianna turned and lifted a brow at him and he gave her a tight smile. She turned back to the musician on the stage playing the closing song.
And then it was over.
Ryan drew in a deep breath. At this point, the family would normally be escorted out to head for the graveside service, but Kevin had explicitly stated during a conversation that he didn’t want one. So, now they were honoring his wishes.
Ryan’s phone vibrated and he lifted it to his ear. “Yeah.” He kept his voice low, even though people were stirring to leave.
“This is Bob.”
“You get him?”
“No, he outran me. Totally lost me, lost all of us. We’re still looking, but wanted to give you an update in case he manages to double back. I gave a description of the car, so hopefully we’ll have something soon.”
“Thanks.”
Bob fell silent, then sighed. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t recognize him and neither did Marco. If we had, he never would have gotten through the door.”
He might have, using his brute strength, but Ryan decided not to mention that. “It’s all right. The only reason I recognized him is because he looked right at me and smirked.”
“Smirked?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet that made your knuckles itch.”
The man had no idea. “Thanks for the update.”
“Sure. How’s Marco?”
“In pain, probably a broken cheekbone and jaw, but he’ll live. What about you?”
“Mine’s not broken, but it’s going to hurt for a while. I’ll check on him soon.”
Bob hung up and Izzy slipped a hand in the crook of Ryan’s elbow. Her warmth surrounded him and he found himself glad she was there. More glad than he probably should be.
He gave her fingers a squeeze.
“I just wanted to say goodbye and I’ll see you later,” she said.
His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. It was Bob texting him with an update.
Found the car. It’s stolen. Will let you know if anything else develops.
Ryan tucked the phone back into his clip then reached out and pulled Izzy to him. After a brief hesitation, her arms encircled his waist.
“Can I do anything?” she said into his chest.
Yeah, you can stay right here forever.
He cleared his throat. “No.” He frowned. “Maybe. Where are you going to be tonight?”
She stepped back and met his gaze. “With Chloe. Why?”
“Just want to make sure you’re safe. Hulk . . . Young got away. That was Bob texting me. The car he was driving was abandoned not too far from here and the plate came back stolen.”
Izzy sighed. “Great.”
“Yeah.”
“And where are you going to be? With your family?”
“Probably. For a little while.”
“And after?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Of course.” He kissed her cheek, then stepped back. “Thanks, Izzy.”
“Sure.” She swallowed hard and lifted a hand to the cheek he’d kissed. “Um . . . bye.”
Then she was gone, weaving her way through the crowd to the back of the church. Two officers followed her and Ryan breathed a relieved sigh that she would be safe for tonight. And while his heart wanted to follow after her, he had things to do—and a killer to find.
Izzy found Chloe and the two of them walked out of the church. Chloe’s eyes were red-rimmed and she sniffed every so often. Izzy knew exactly how she felt. Her own nose was clogged and her eyes scratchy from the tears. “I know Mom’s expecting us for lunch, but I’m not sure I could eat a bite.”
“We’ll try.”
“Yeah.”
“Izzy?”
Her steps faltered at the voice. A voice from the past. Chloe’s gasp reached her ears and they both turned at the same time.
“Mick?”
At six feet two inches, Mick looked every inch the athlete he’d once been. Pro football in college had given his nose the odd little lump in the middle, but other than that, his sparkling blue eyes and twin dimples drew women like flies to honey.
At least until he took the mask off and released his true character. Obsessive. Needy. Violent.
Chloe stepped in front of Izzy. “What are you doing here?”
Izzy grasped Chloe’s arm and pulled her out of the way. “I thought I told you never to come near me again.”
Mick swallowed and looked around before his gaze landed on the ground. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and Izzy settled her grip on her weapon while Chloe did the same.
When he looked up, he flinched and freed his hands. Holding them in plain view, he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“No. You weren’t.”
“I didn’t come to cause trouble.”
“Then why?” Izzy asked.
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Kevin and that I’m . . .”
“What? Just say whatever it is you need to say and leave.”
He nodded. “I wanted to say I’m sorry about . . . what happened. Between us, I mean. I was wrong.”
“Yes. You were.” Izzy backed toward the vehicle while Chloe kept an eye on Mick. She needed to say more. But what? “Mick, I’ve forgiven you. I really have. And I’m glad you’re getting help.”
As though her words were just what he needed to hear, his features softened and tears glittered in his eyes. “Thank you, Izzy.”
And for a moment she remembered why she’d been so attracted to him, why she’d fallen for him. It had been the kindness in his eyes, the fun-loving spirit that had challenged her to live for more than the job. But now, all she felt were pity and the desire to just be away from him.
“Could we . . . maybe get coffee or something?”
Her tension returned. “No, Mick. We can’t, I’m sorry. I’ve forgiven you, but I don’t want to spend time with you.”
“Izzy—” Frustration flashed and Izzy tensed, her mind spinning back to that summer afternoon at his home. He’d lured her there with a request to talk. She’d agreed because she felt bad about the way she’d ended things. Once there, he knocked her unconscious and tied her up. When she woke to a throbbing headache, double vision, and a knife to her throat, she’d frozen with horror and fear.
“I love you, Izzy,” he’d cried. “I can’t live without you. And if you won’t stay with me, you can’t live. I can’t know you’re out there, in love with someone else.”
“Mick,” she whispered. “No. Don’t do this. I care about you or I wouldn’t have come. Please don’t throw your life away like this.”
His tear-filled eyes met hers. “You care about me, but you broke up with me.”
She couldn’t tell him why, but she couldn’t agree to get back together with him. He’d see right through the quick lie. “I know. I needed time to think.”
“About what?”
“About us. About what the future would hold. What it would mean if we got married.”
He stared. “You were thinking about marriage too?”
“Yes.” And she had been. And she hadn’t liked the picture that had unfolded each time she thought about marriage to this man. She hadn’t been able to put her finger on exactly what made her uneasy about the guy. Until he’d held her hostage.
“I—I didn’t know.”
“I wasn’t cutting you out of my life forever,” she said. “I just wanted . . . time. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Izzy.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Oh no. I’ve messed up again, haven’t I? I’ve completely messed up. I don’t want to hurt you, I just can’t deal with not having you.” He leaned against her and wept.
She had compassion for him after he’d cut the duct tape binding her and handed her the knife with pleas of forgiveness. She held him until the police arrived and she’d walked out alive, physically in one piece, but emotionally shattered—and with a new inability to trust her instincts when it came to men. She’d avoided any kind of romantic entanglement for the past two years.
Izzy straightened her shoulders and stared him in the eye. “I mean it, Mick. Don’t bother me again, okay?”
She climbed in the car and slammed the door. But kept her eye on the side mirror. Mick punched a fist into his palm and stared at the vehicle a moment longer, nostrils flaring, but a certain sadness, maybe even acceptance, in his eyes as well. Then, without another word, he spun on his heel and marched off.
Izzy’s breath whooshed from her lungs and she shut her eyes against the dizziness that hit her.
Chloe’s door shut. Her sister sat in silence for a brief moment. “Are you okay?” she finally asked.
“Yes. I am.”
“You sure?”
Izzy opened her eyes and stared out the windshield. Then laughed.
“Iz?”
“I’m okay.” She held up her hands. “I’m not even shaking.” She’d been a wreck after testifying in court. She hadn’t stopped trembling for days.
Chloe started the truck.
“That felt good,” Izzy said.
“He didn’t like the way that ended.”
“I know, but that’s okay. I think the nightmares might start to fade now.” The ones with Mick anyway. She had a feeling the ones with the giant hulking killer weren’t going away anytime soon. “I’m actually glad he showed up.”
“You are?”
“There’s something to be said for facing your fears. I’ve been avoiding even thinking about Mick—other than when I had a nightmare about him—avoiding facing the fact that he had a serious impact on my mental well-being.”
“And now?”
“Now?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Standing up to him in court was one thing, but seeing him out, away from the whole legal setting, makes him seem . . . smaller somehow.”
“He could be dangerous, Izzy.”
“I know.” She drew in a deep breath. “And I’ll watch my back.”
Chloe fell silent and Izzy pulled her phone from her pocket to open the file Derek had sent her. Anxiety pulsed through her.
Within seconds, she had the file open and started scanning the names. In alphabetical order, there were twenty-seven in all, including hers, her mother’s, and several other officers she knew. And several she didn’t. They had to be out of different regions. But each name had a number next to it off to the left. It made no sense to her, but Derek’s name wasn’t on there, and neither was Chloe’s or Linc’s or any other family member. But Kevin’s was—he was number twenty-one.
Izzy frowned and clicked off of it.
“You okay?” Chloe asked.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
“A lot of stuff.” Like why did Derek think she’d be able to figure it out if he couldn’t? Because her name was on it?
One thing was certain, Derek had finally gotten it right. This wasn’t a list of dirty cops, it was something else. He must have gotten it without a legitimate search warrant and couldn’t use it as evidence, but finding out what it meant or was related to could send him in the right direction. She shut the file and let possibilities play out in her mind. When Chloe pulled into their parents’ driveway, Izzy was no closer to an answer than she had been before she’d opened the file.
Her father stepped out onto the front porch.
“They made it home pretty fast,” Izzy said.
“I’m sure they didn’t feel like participating in the media madhouse going on outside the church. Mom made her statement before walking inside for the funeral.”
“I missed that.” It must have been when Izzy was talking to Derek.
Chloe let Hank out of his area in the back of the Tahoe, and he took off for the gate that led to the backyard. Her father waved a hand. “I’ll let him back there. Mozart’s been waiting for him. Your mother’s setting the table.”
Izzy led the way inside the front door. Chloe stepped in behind her and went straight for the kitchen. Izzy stayed still for a moment, drew in a deep breath, the comfort of home immediately washing over her. The smell of roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, fresh pies, and some chocolate creation hung in the air. For just a split second, Izzy let herself be transported back to before Kevin’s death when all was right with her world.
Brady sat on the couch with the remote in his hand. “Is it wrong to have the game on?”
She shrugged. “Kevin would be watching it if he was here.”
“Yeah.” He turned it down. “I’m not in the mood.”
Derek stepped out of the half bath and joined Brady on the couch. Izzy’s jaw dropped. His gaze collided with hers and he gave her a subtle shake of his head. She nodded and looked past him to see her mother working in the kitchen. Ruthie set a platter of meat on the dining room table to the left of the kitchen.
The front door opened again and this time Linc stepped in and shrugged out of his coat. He tossed it over the banister post.
“There’s a closet right there,” she said. “It’s the door on the left.”
“I know.” He patted her cheek and headed for the den.
Izzy rolled her eyes. Her sarcasm never did have the desired effect. He took a seat in the recliner with a satisfied sigh.
Her father was back in the kitchen with her mother. The rolls were done. “Time to eat,” he called.
As one, they moved to the ten-person table her brothers and father had crafted almost fifteen years ago. But the television remained on, albeit on mute.
“They scored,” Brady said, nodding toward the television.
“Kevin would be thrilled,” Izzy said. She slid into her seat beside Brady, Ruthie took the one by her. With a sigh, her father held out his hands. One by one, each family member joined together until they made a circle around the table. “Father, we ask that you bless this food to our bodies. Thank you for the abundance that you’ve provided. And Lord, we ask for your healing touch on the Marshall family tonight. This is a tough time for them. For all of us. We need your grace, your strength, and your peace. Amen.”
Amens echoed quietly.
Izzy stared at her plate, emotions swirling inside her. She knew the Marshalls did this every week as well. A family dinner. And now they would have two empty places. Kevin’s funeral was over. There was nothing left to do but get through life without him.
“Iz?” Linc’s soft voice reached her. She looked up to find all eyes on her. Concerned, caring, compassionate. They hurt because she hurt. Because the Marshall family hurt. “You okay?”
“No. I’m not.”
“Yeah.” Ruthie’s right hand grasped Izzy’s left. “You’ll get through it.”
“I know.” And she did. She set her napkin on the table. “I’m not hungry, though. I think I’m going to go hang out with Mozart and Hank for a while.”
She stood among protests and walked to the door that led to the big backyard she’d grown up playing in. Mozart raced to greet her and Hank lumbered along behind. He would have been more interested if she’d been Chloe.
Izzy sat on the steps to the deck and let Mozart talk her into scratching his belly.
But while she scratched, she fought the fatigue washing over her. If she didn’t get some rest, she was going to crash and burn. But first she dialed Louis Harper’s number. And got voice mail yet again. She had a really bad feeling about the man and was afraid the next time she saw him would be in a body bag. She stood. It was time to make a plate and head back to Chloe’s house. She needed sleep to help keep up her strength if she was going to be able to fight another day.
Sitting in his parents’ den once more, Ryan tried to ignore the heavy pall that had fallen over the house. When his phone rang, he grabbed it like a drowning man snags a life preserver. David. “Hey.”
“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t make the funeral.”
“It’s all right. No need to apologize.”
“The reason I didn’t was because I managed to track down the photographer for that charity event. I told her a little about the case and she sent me the pictures without hesitation. I sent them to Charice just to make sure all was kosher with the investigation, but she said she would show them to you ASAP.”
“David, that’s great. I really appreciate it.” His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. “That’s Charice calling me now. I’ll catch up to you later.”
“Hope you find something,” he said.
“Me too.” Ryan switched over to the other call. “Hey, partner.”
“Hey. I’ve got the pictures from the charity banquet.”
“I just got off the phone with David.”
“Where do you want to meet me?”
Ryan hesitated. “Let me see if I can get ahold of Lee and I’ll text you.”
“I’ll be waiting.” She hung up and Ryan rose to pace to the window. He peered out and noticed all the cars in the St. John driveway. Izzy’s father had probably fixed a family meal.
Thankfully, his parents’ house was finally quiet. He’d convinced his mother to try to sleep, and it worried him that she hadn’t argued with him. Aunt Jessica was talking on her cell phone and Lilianna was lounging on the couch with her headphones in. Cathy and Dale were at the table with his father.
He dialed Lee’s number and got voice mail. “Lee, I’ve got the pictures. Call me back and let me know when you can take a look.”
Ryan hung up and rose to walk into the kitchen. His father looked up, grief shadowing his eyes even though he smiled at Ryan. “I’m heading home, Dad. I’ll check on y’all later.”
“All right.”
He gripped his father’s shoulder. “See you later, Cath. Dale.”
Cathy rose to hug him. “Be careful, Ryan,” she whispered.
“Always.”
Once outside and in his vehicle, he sent up a silent prayer. Please, God, let these pictures get us somewhere.
Five minutes later his phone rang and he engaged the Bluetooth. “Hello.”
“Hey, Ryan, it’s Lee. I just got your message.”
“You have some time to meet later this evening?”
“I’m out of town. Had to fly a client down to Florida, but I’ll be back in Columbia around nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Want to meet at that little diner not too far from your parents’ house? The one Chris liked.”
“I’d love to. Charice will be there too. She’s the one that actually has the pictures.”
“See you then.”
Once home, he texted Charice the plan for the morning. He’d text Izzy too. There was no way she’d be okay with being left out of this one.