Dead Don't Lie. Lynell Nicolello
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Название: Dead Don't Lie
Автор: Lynell Nicolello
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
isbn: 9781474001052
isbn:
“What do you want with us? We haven’t done anything to you.” Her father’s panicked voice broke as the figure kicked him in the face.
Evelyn’s hand flew to her mouth. She swallowed a scream. Her mother whimpered softly. Her father moaned, writhing in agony. Then her mom’s blue eyes grew wide as their captor—careful to stay to the perimeter of the video—walked toward her.
“Please,” her father screamed. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t hurt her. Please. I swear. Tell me what you want.”
The figure ignored him and raised his arm. Evelyn saw the gun at the same time her father did. Her mother shut her eyes and bowed her head.
Bullets ripped into her broken body.
“No!” Evelyn’s father cried out.
The shadowed figure took three quick, long strides toward her weeping father. He knelt at his side and yanked hard on her father’s hair, exposing his neck.
“Why?”
Without answering, the shadow pulled a knife. Her father’s neck ripped open.
Evelyn turned and vomited onto the floor. When the convulsions stopped, she wiped the back of her hand shakily across her mouth. She lunged for her desk and rummaged through the mess.
“Where is it?” She cursed aloud, frantic for the lifeline to her family. Her father insisted that she have a calling card at all times.
Her dad. She whimpered.
“Daddy...”
Grabbing her black wallet from her bag, Evelyn tore through its contents. Her fingers landed on the worn calling card. She snatched up her phone, breath coming in shallow gulps. She punched her father’s cell phone number into the lit keypad, its soft green illuminated lights taunting her.
She commanded herself to calm down. She didn’t know anything yet. The DVD could’ve been a prank. It could be...has to be.
She concentrated on the shrill ringing of the phone. It felt distant, foreign. For the first time since she’d signed her modeling contract and boarded the flight from Phoenix to Europe, she truly felt the distance from her family.
She felt completely alone.
“Hello?” a rough, gravelly stranger’s voice answered.
“Who is this?” Evelyn’s voice cracked, emotion and confusion clouding her senses.
“Detective Nikols with the Phoenix P.D. Who is this?”
“My family...” Her words sounded hollow.
“Evelyn?” The voice on the other end of the line softened. “Evelyn Maslin?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She wrestled the next sentence out of her mouth, determined to voice it. “This is Evelyn Maslin. My family? Tell me what happened to my family.”
The pause on the other end of the line lengthened, making her heart threaten to stop even before the detective pulled in his breath to speak, even before the words fell from his mouth.
“Ms. Maslin, we’ve been trying to track you down. I’m so sorry to have to tell you like this...”
Evelyn’s vision narrowed, and her stomach sank. She slid down the cool wall and dropped to the floor. The detective’s voice faded as her perfect, larger-than-life world shattered into a million painful pieces.
Present day
EYES FOCUSED ON the mark one hundred yards in front of her, Evelyn pulled the trigger. Anticipating the buck of cold metal in her hand, her body absorbed the kickback as three short bursts echoed in her ears. Her lips twitched into a tight smile. She couldn’t have been more accurate if she’d been at point-blank range.
Evelyn holstered her piece, pushed her protective glasses up and smirked at the man standing next to her. Detective Ryan O’Neil pressed the green button to their right, refusing to meet her gleeful stare, and watched as the tethered paper target danced its way down the shooting lane closer and closer into view.
Her partner sighed ruefully. “Two to the chest, one to the head. Not bad, little Miss Evelyn Davis, not bad.”
Evelyn flinched slightly. Most of the time, she wasn’t bothered by the new name she’d adopted fifteen years ago. But every so often, hearing “Davis” instead of “Maslin” still shocked her a bit. It seemed like today was going to be one of those days.
Ryan pulled the target sheet from the hanger and waved it in Evelyn’s face. He grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening. Standing at six foot one and a solid 190 pounds of pure muscle, Ryan had the eye of every passing woman. His easygoing smile and casual mannerisms perfectly balanced out her sometimes cool, detached approach to their work. They were the perfect pair, and in looks, they could easily pass as siblings.
The paper fluttered from Ryan’s fingers to the shell-covered, dirty concrete floor. He ran his hand through his thick mass of dark curls, sapphire eyes twinkling as he said, “But can you do that with your left hand?”
They both knew she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, refuse his challenge.
“That’s ‘Detective’ to you, sir. And you know I can.”
She’d needed the release of the gun range after closing the Langdon case. Seeing those broken and battered little girls had taken its toll on her—physically and emotionally. It had been a long time since she’d needed to go that deep into the psyche of a monster, but someone had to do it—no one else on the force had seen past Adam Langdon’s stellar résumé, perfect face and solid alibi.
Evelyn had.
Going on nothing more than a hunch, she’d followed Langdon after work one day. After being detained and released due to lack of evidence the bastard had gotten cocky, not bothering to cover his tracks. He’d led Evelyn straight to his lair—off the grid and hidden—where, unbeknownst to her at the time, his newest victim lay bound and gagged. That sixth sense she’d grown to trust had pushed at her, demanding attention. So she’d done the only thing she could: called for backup and went in alone. Though he was bigger, she was running on righteous anger and quickly got the drop on him. By the time Ryan and the backup arrived, Langdon was in cuffs and the kidnapped little boy sat huddled in Evelyn’s lap, crying softly. Old VCR tapes lined the closest shelves, some dating back fifteen years, of his previous victims.
She’d craved Wild West justice for Langdon. Instead, they’d shipped him to Clallam Bay Corrections Center just southeast of Neah Bay. She wanted him out of Washington State altogether, but knew he wouldn’t last long at CBCC. That gave her some sense of justice served. Even the cruelest killers wouldn’t accept some things—and a murdering child molester was one of them. But he wouldn’t be able to touch another child. He likely wouldn’t be able to do much of anything soon. Her lips tugged up as the dark, primal thought passed СКАЧАТЬ