Jamie shut off the news. She didn’t want to see any more body bags or people digging in the dirt. She didn’t want to hear more vague police statements or reporter speculation. She was sick of TV. She’d caught a quick glimpse of Michael Brody standing behind the yellow tape, his hand clasped in a gorgeous blonde’s.
It was a brief shot. Less than a second as the camera had panned over a group of police and detectives. Why was it stuck on replay in her brain?
She’d recognized Michael’s stiff stance immediately. He’d looked like he was clamping down on every emotion he had. Just like he had at her school this morning. When she’d made a fool of herself by telling him those personal things about Chris. And when he’d invited her to travel with him…He hadn’t been holding back all emotions at that point. She’d seen the dark sparks in his eyes. She could have said yes. After all, it was her brother he wanted to see. Not spend time with her. Jamie shook her head and marched into her kitchen and attacked the dishes she’d left in the sink. She never left dishes in the sink. Where was her mind lately?
Earlier she’d locked her keys in her car. She’d stood there, staring dumbly at the empty pocket in her purse where the keys belonged. Then she’d peeked through the window and did a double take. There they were. In plain sight on the console. Blowing out a disgusted breath, she’d searched under her car for the little magnetic box she’d hidden years ago when she’d first bought the car. She believed in preparing ahead, but she’d truly never thought she’d need that box.
Her doorbell rang. She moved to the door and pressed her face against the wood to look through the hole.
Speak of the devil. Her porch light illuminated his face in the dark of the late evening.
He winked, and her heart did a double flip.
Sheesh.
Fuming at her reaction, she threw the bolts and opened the door. “What do you want?”
“I need you to come with me to find your brother.”
“No. I already told you I wouldn’t go. Leave him alone.” She shook her head with each word. “He doesn’t need to be a part of this. He doesn’t do well with media attention. I told you he struggles with nightmares. This is just going to make it worse.”
“Is it your brother you’re protecting, or his son?”
Jamie’s knees twitched, and she held tight to the doorknob. “Son? His son? Chris doesn’t have children.” What?
Sympathy and anger flashed in those green eyes. “He does. You didn’t know?”
Jamie couldn’t speak. She shook her head. Chris? Son?
“Looks like he was protecting more than just you,” Michael said quietly. His gaze abruptly narrowed. “Hey. You need to sit down.” He grabbed both her arms and turned her toward the living room, guiding her to sit on the couch, and sat beside her. His weight on the cushions nearly caused her to tip into him. She fought to stay upright.
She couldn’t breathe. Confusion spun in her mind. She had a nephew? Had her parents known? “How old?”
“How old is what?”
“The boy. How old is my nephew?” she croaked.
“About seven or eight years old.”
Jamie squeezed her eyes shut and brushed angrily at the tears. “He never told me.”
“Yeah. I see that.” Sympathy filled his voice. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s married? He never told me?” Why? Why hadn’t Chris told her?
“Doesn’t look like he was ever married. The mother died when the boy was one.”
More tears streamed. Tears for a motherless baby and his lonely father. “She died? Who was she?”
“I have a name, not much else. Elena Padilla. She was twenty-two when she died.”
Jamie looked down and saw she was holding both of Michael’s hands in a death grip, her knuckles white. She released and her fingers felt like they’d been frozen in place. They fought to straighten. She shoved them between her knees and turned to look at him.
Concern wrinkled his forehead. He watched her like he expected her to crack in half.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her tongue feeling numb. “It’s just that…Chris is all…”
“He’s the only family you have left. And now it turns out he was hiding more.”
“What’s his name? What’s the boy’s name?” she pleaded. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. She had a nephew? And Chris never said a word?
“I don’t know,” Michael answered.
“Are you certain?” she asked again, searching his gaze. “Are you absolutely certain he has a son?”
“No doubts,” he said softly.
She looked away, unable to face the pity in his eyes. “Do you know where he is?” She was done wondering how Michael dug up information or the accuracy of that information. Her instinct told her he didn’t let words cross his lips unless his facts were triple-checked.
“I have a good idea. A good starting place anyway.”
Jamie’s heart clenched tight, overwhelmed with a need to see the faces of Chris and his son. “How do you know? How did you find out?”
Michael shrugged. “The phone call you made indicated a general area in Eastern Oregon. It’s pretty sparsely populated. I made some calls and got a hold of the sheriff in the area. He knows a Chris Jacobs who lives off the grid as far as possible. He says it’s the type of area where people go to avoid the rest of the world. Sound like your brother?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“The reason he remembers your brother is because of how Chris’s wife—well, not his wife legally—died in a car accident. I can’t find a record of a marriage, but I did find newspaper clippings about the accident. And it talks about the child. The information matches what the sheriff told me. It was pretty bad and sounds like a scene that would stick in your head for a long time.”
“Don’t tell me. Please,” Jamie burst out, meeting his gaze. She didn’t want the gruesome death of a young woman playing through her mind.
He nodded at her request. She could see a shadow in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. From the description of the accident? How many horrific things had he witnessed or covered for the newspaper over the years?
“Now will you go find him with me? Your brother is more likely to talk to you than some stranger. Chris may not believe I’m not looking for a story. This is personal. I’m going because I need to know what happened to my brother.”
An urge to see her own brother hit Jamie like a blow to the chest. It’d been so long…
But to-do lists flooded Jamie’s brain. “Umm…I need to stop the paper and mail and talk to my neighbor about feeding my cat, and I’m supposed to meet with a parent late tomorrow…”
Even to her own ears, her excuses were weak.
“Christ, princess. Yes or no? I’m leaving tomorrow morning. It’s a long drive. Some company would be nice.”
She froze, unable to agree. “I need a few days.” She couldn’t make that type of immediate decision without thinking it through. For a trip, she had to have a plan before she began. After Chris had vanished, her parents no longer let her out of their sight. A simple afternoon to hang out at a friend’s home involved a visit by her parents first. And a sleepover at a girlfriend’s? Forget it. She’d been in college before she slept without her parents under the same roof.
It was a habit that was hard to break.
Michael glanced at his watch. “Fine. I get it.” He stood and locked gazes with her, dark green eyes flashing.
Jamie blinked. His heated gaze didn’t match the tone of his words. It said, I want you to come with me now. And he didn’t want her simply for the convenience of speaking with her brother. He wanted her for…something else.
Heat flooded her belly. What would it be like to be alone with this man and his energy? Silent sparks erupted every time he was near her. He was dangerous.
Jamie avoided danger on principle. She rose to her feet and stepped away. “I can’t. I can’t leave on a moment’s notice.”
“Why not? You don’t have family to arrange for. Just a cat. You’re on summer break. It’s time to move on impulse for once.”
His words stung. She was well aware of the lack of spontaneity in her life, but she didn’t need other people to point it out. It was understandable. It was her parents’ reaction to the kidnapping of her brother. It’d created in her a sense of precaution and the need to think through every move she made. Sure, she’d sacrificed some impulsiveness. But there were worse habits to have.
Michael had highlighted her biggest shortcoming, and he barely knew her. She lifted her chin. “Call me if you find him. And his son. I want to know about my nephew.”
Silence choked her living room.
A sad smile crossed his face. “I will.” He turned and strode to her door. He opened it, looked over his shoulder at her, and vanished.
The sound of the closing door echoed in her empty house. Jamie exhaled and plopped back down on the couch. Would Michael find Chris? Chris had made it clear over the years he wanted to be left alone. He hadn’t responded to the voice message she’d left yesterday. Maybe she should leave him another one? Warn him a reporter was looking for him?
She shook her head. Plenty of people had searched for Chris over the years. He knew how to stay hidden. As tenacious as Michael appeared to be, Chris knew how to avoid reporters. But, boy, her brother had some explaining to do about her nephew. When the publicity died down, she’d pressure him to let her meet the child.
But why did she feel that she’d just missed an interesting opportunity with Michael Brody?
The man was angry, pacing in his office.
“What the hell were you thinking? What was that place? A torture chamber or sex dungeon? I told you to get rid of them. Not keep them as personal slaves for your twisted lusts. Jesus f*cking Christ.”
Gerald sat silently. He’d heard different versions of this lecture before. The man just needed to vent. What did he care?
“I can’t believe you left that bunker full of crap. Who knows what they’ll find in there? These days, f*cking forensics can trace you from a grain of rice you dropped. You left a treasure trove of kid junk for the police to sift through. Your fingerprints could be everywhere. And I know your fingerprints are in the system.” The man halted his pacing to stare him in the eye.
“I never went in there without latex gloves,” he said. That wasn’t quite true. The gloves came off for certain things.
“Did you leave any gloves? They can get fingerprints off the insides of those damned things.”
“Of course not.”
His boss held his stare, and Gerald understood why people respected him. He could convey every emotion in a way that made the listener feel it deep in their gut. Right now he was telling Gerald that he didn’t believe him.
He was pretty sure there were no gloves left inside. His last visit to the bunker had been over a decade ago, and he’d cleaned out any incriminating garbage. He’d left all the kids’ stuff. It didn’t point any fingers at him. It just showed that children had been there.
He’d eliminated most of the kids pretty fast. Girls first. Then the younger boys. The two oldest boys had appealed to him the most, so he’d kept them the longest.
For the millionth time, he wondered about Chris Jacobs. Did he really have no memory of those years? Or was he just covering his ass? Gerald had made it clear to the boys what he could do to their families if they disobeyed. And he’d sent that reminder basket to the kid in the hospital. A strong message not to talk.
Either way, the kid had stayed silent for twenty years.
His boss was having the same train of thought. “That Jacobs kid might have some memories stirred up by all this publicity.”
“He doesn’t even live in the state anymore. At least, I can’t find him. I look every now and then. He’s put as much space as possible between him and his past.”
The boss gave a withering stare. “The f*cking story has gone national. Maybe worldwide. Dead kids do that to the media.”
Gerald shrugged. “He doesn’t know who I am or where to find me.”
“They could put out a description. You’re a little distinctive looking.” The man looked him up and down.
Gerald cringed inside. He’d done everything he could to look as normal as possible, but he constantly wondered if people were staring at him. He’d been a small child when he first realized he didn’t look like the other kids. And kids were cruel. He’d read that some animals ostracize based on appearance. Society acted like those animals. He’d always been the outcast.
“The important witness died. Daniel,” Gerald argued. “He’s the one who could’ve done some damage. He could have messed things up real bad, if he’d survived.”
“You’re f*cking lucky Daniel’s dead.” His boss looked ready to pop a nut. “If I had known you were keeping those kids alive instead of getting rid of them, I would have strangled you with my bare hands back then.
“You’ve got some loose ends to tie up. Find Chris Jacobs now and get rid of him. You’ve put this off too long. I don’t know why I’ve put up with it. You should have taken care of it the minute he appeared. You’d told me they were all dead. F*cking lied to me that you were hanging on to some.”
His boss was starting to repeat himself. His face was red, and his silver hair stuck out in places. Usually he was impeccably groomed, but the situation was wearing on him.
Gerald ran a hand through his own hair. “I’ve looked for him. Every few years, I look. I’ve done every computer search possible. Either he doesn’t exist on paper or he’s changed his name. My money is on him changing his name.”
“He could still come forward. Maybe consent to be hypnotized to see if they can pick some shit out of his brain.”
“And what’s he gonna say? I remember a guy with white hair and some tattoos? I lived in an underground can for two years with another boy? How can that lead back to us?”
“Daniel lived for a long time. Daniel could’ve told him what he knew.” His boss wiped at the sweat on his temple.
“No one knew we were connected back then. A kid wouldn’t have figured that out.”
“Daniel was smart. Everyone said he was a f*cking mini-genius.”
“Even a genius can’t add one and one together to come up with five,” Gerald argued.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He didn’t have enough facts to figure it out.”
“You ask the sister where Chris Jacobs is?” his boss asked.
“Everyone has asked the sister. Police, media. She doesn’t say shit.”
“She’s got to have an idea of where her brother is. Start there. Finish the damned job. I don’t know how I’ve trusted you with anything. Now get out.”
Gerald hated him. “Yes, sir.”
There was a very good reason his boss trusted him. And Gerald hoped one day he’d have the opportunity to ram that reason into his perfect face.
“I’m sorry I cut it short today, Lisa. You gonna keep going?” Balancing on one foot, Jamie pulled her other foot behind her until it touched her shorts, stretching the muscle in the front of the thigh. “I don’t know why it’s cramping so bad.”
Lisa jogged in place. “I’ll do another circuit. Want to try tomorrow?”
“Yes, I think it’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
Lisa spun around and dashed off. “Alternate some heat and ice!” she yelled over her shoulder.
Jamie nodded and gingerly headed up the walkway to her front door. Damn. Her thigh was really sore. They’d only covered three miles. Half of what she and Lisa usually did several times a week. She’d dig out the heating pad and do some gentle stretching. Drink lots, too. She didn’t think she was dehydrated, but the days had been getting ridiculously hot. It could happen.
Suddenly very thirsty, she pushed her front door open and made a beeline to the kitchen. And froze. Jesus Christ. Every drawer in her kitchen had been emptied onto the floor. Every cupboard was open. She slowly backed out of the room, eyes wide at the disaster.
Get out. Now.
“Don’t move. Don’t turn around,” a male voice uttered behind her.
She didn’t.
Something small and hard pressed against the back of her skull.
Her heart started to pound its way out of her chest, her mouth instantly dry, and her vision tunneled.
“I want you to slowly lie down on the floor. On your stomach and put your hands behind you.”
He’s going to rape me.
Jamie didn’t move. If she got down on the floor, she wouldn’t have a chance.
“Get down, now!” he growled.
She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to move her legs.
“F*cking bitch.” He rammed his hand into the small of her back and ground the gun into her neck. “Move it!”
Jamie fell to her knees and winced. He grabbed one of her arms and wrenched it behind her back, the gun still digging into her neck.
“Where’s your brother?”
Chris? “What?” Her voice squeaked.
The gun dug deeper. “Where’s that f*cking brother of yours? The one with the pretty round scars down his face.” He moved the gun around to her cheek and shoved it into her flesh. “You want some matching scars? I’ve got a pack of cigarettes handy.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. The gun hurt, but not as bad as the image of Chris’s skin burning.
“Where is he? I know that reporter is looking for him. Everybody wants a piece of Chris Jacobs right now. The famous survivor.” He spit the last sentence. “Does he really not remember where he was and what happened to him? I bet he remembers my cigarettes.”
Jamie frantically shook her head. “Nothing…he doesn’t…”
Oh my God. He’s the one. He’s the one who hurt Chris. He killed all those children.
“I don’t believe that. And all this publicity is bound to stir up some old memories. I bet he won’t be sleeping very good once he hears about all those little discoveries at the farm. Now. Be a good sister and tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know! I really don’t know! I call a number and leave a message…he gets back to me eventually. I called yesterday, but I haven’t heard back. But Michael…” Jamie clamped her mouth shut.
He burned my brother. All those children…
She felt her skin tear as the gun dug into her cheekbone.
Chris’s nightmares…the screaming…he’s the one…
“Michael? The reporter? He found something? He knows where to find that skinny bastard?”
Jamie shook her head, trying to pull away from the tip of the gun. “He doesn’t know.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” He yanked on the arm behind her back, and her vision blurred.
“I don’t know…I don’t know what you want!”
“I want your brother!” He gave a hard shove, and Jamie’s face slammed into the wood floor.
Every self-defense article she’d ever read scrambled in her brain. One rule stuck out: Fight back and scream!
She rolled over and lashed out with her legs and feet, kicking him in the shins and knees.
She screamed. Every ounce of energy went into her screams and her legs.
Years of running powered her legs, and he stumbled backward in surprise. The gun slipped from his hand, and she scrambled for it. He dove forward, grabbed it, and backhanded her across the face with the gun. The metal tore her lips.
She screamed more. He was on her level now, and she kept kicking and kicking. Arms, legs, gut, ass. She connected everywhere. He scrambled backward, crablike, slamming the gun against the floor each time his hand moved.
Keep kicking! Keep kicking! Jamie pushed forward, scooting on her butt, using the most powerful part of her body to hammer him with her feet. He grabbed a cupboard door and heaved himself off the floor. He whirled around the corner, out of the kitchen, and ran.
Jamie clambered to her hands and knees and shot up after him. Catching her balance on the doorframe, she saw a glimpse of his shirt as he dashed out her front door.
She grasped the kitchen doorframe with both hands as she stared down her hallway and out into the bright sunshine. Jamie slowly slid down the frame and sat on the floor.
He’s gone. He’s the one…the children…Chris…
She couldn’t breathe, and her heart wouldn’t stop thrashing inside her chest. Her arms shook. She crossed them on her chest, squeezing tight. They didn’t stop.
She needed to call 911. Now.
The phone on her counter seemed a mile away.
Oh my God, he almost killed me…
She blinked, seeing the cupboards start to shimmy and warp. Her stomach heaved.
Oh crap.
She grabbed a bowl from the mess on the floor and vomited.
Michael threw another pair of shorts in his bag.
“F*ck.” What was wrong with him? He’d planned to be on the road an hour ago, and he wasn’t even packed. His internal alarm clock had failed for the first time in his life, and he had a good idea of why.
He’d been awake half the night thinking about Jamie Jacobs. And spent the other half dreaming about her. It wasn’t until after he’d stepped out of the shower that he realized he was running late.
He’d been disappointed last night when she’d refused to go to with him. He’d wanted her to help deal with Chris when he found him. He wanted her there to smooth his way. And he ached to get to know her better. He scowled into his bathroom drawer, digging for a new razor. Jamie was different. She didn’t feel like a temporary female distraction. His entire focus was on this woman and how to spend more time with her.
He hadn’t known something was missing from his life until it punched him in the gut.
Jesus Christ. He sounded like a religious convert.
He shoved his feet into leather flip-flops and headed for the front door, his carry-on slung over his shoulder. He checked his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone. Good to go.
His front door slammed behind him, and the heat of the morning slapped his face. It was in the high eighties already, and it was only seven o’clock. How hot would Eastern Oregon be? The east side of the state’s weather was more extreme than the west. Either hotter or colder. He jogged to the black SUV parked in front of his garage, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He ignored it, planning to return the call once he was on his way.
He was on a search for answers about Daniel. All his life he’d wanted to know what’d happened to his brother, and he was getting close. He could feel it.
Once out of his neighborhood, he shoved the phone in the holder on his dash and glanced at the screen. No name, just a number. His heart pounded. Jamie’s number. He’d never dialed it, but her cell, home, and work numbers were all filed in his memory from his research.
“Return call,” he requested.
Did she change her mind about the trip?
Nearly missing a stop sign, he hit his brakes and commanded his heart to slow.
“Michael?” Her panicked voice filled his vehicle, and his chest tightened.
“Jamie. What’s wrong?”
Sputtering breaths filled the line.
“Damn it, Jamie, what happened?” He grabbed his phone, turned off the speaker, and pressed it to his ear. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine…well…yes, I’m fine—”
“You don’t sound fine,”
“Um…someone broke into my house—”
“Get out. Get out of the house right now.” His grip could have crushed the phone.
“No…it’s okay. The police are here and I’m fine.”
Michael blew out a breath. Thank God. “Let me talk to one of them.” It was going to take an hour to get the story out of Jamie. He put the phone back on speaker and pulled a U-turn. F*ck the airport. He headed toward Jamie’s.
“This is Officer Byers.”
“Byers. Is she really okay? What the hell happened over there?”
“She’s gonna be okay. She’s a little banged up. The EMTs bandaged her face. She’s lucky, considering he was armed.”
“He had a gun?” Michael hit his brakes.
“The guy dug into her cheek with it. She fought him off.”
“What?” Michael ground his molars together.
“She fought him off. Who knows what else he would have done.”
“Ah f*ck. You find him?”
“Not yet. She got a good look at him. We’ll get him.”
“Let me talk to her again, please.” Michael exhaled a breath that lasted a full five seconds. She could have died.
“Michael?” Her voice was steadier.
“Hey, princess. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’m not sure why I called you. You don’t have—”
“I’m coming. Don’t argue.” Nothing would stop him.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“And we’re gonna have a little talk about fighting with men who have guns.”
She gave a choking laugh that ended in sobs.
“Sit tight, I’m coming.”
“Don’t hang up, okay?” she rasped.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Two police cruisers were parked in front of Jamie’s house when Michael pulled up. Jamie and three uniforms stood outside on her walkway, talking in a tight circle. She had on snug black running shorts that left nothing to the imagination and made him catch his breath. Holy crap. Did she actually wear those in public? Anger blew away his shock as he realized the backs of her upper thighs were bandaged.
All four turned as he slammed his door and jogged across the street. Jamie’s arms were tightly folded across her chest like a protective shield, her face pale under her tan.
Her face. Michael wanted to strangle her intruder. She had a large white bandage on the right side of her face, and her lips were swollen and starting to scab.
He strode straight to her and pulled her against his chest in a bear hug, not caring if she thought he was being too forward. After what she’d been through, she had to need a human touch. She stiffened for a second and then blew out a deep breath and relaxed as he rubbed his hands across her back. Her Lycra tank was smooth to his touch, but not nearly as smooth as the silkiness of her skin. She kept her arms across her chest but carefully leaned her forehead against his cheek. She shuddered.
“I’m okay.”
He rubbed her back for a few seconds longer and then stepped back, keeping a firm grip on her shoulders and looking her in the eye. “What happened?”
One of the uniforms coughed, and Michael glared his way. “Is the house clear?”
“Yes, we cleared it. Ms. Jacobs hasn’t gone back in to see if anything is missing yet.” The cop raised an eyebrow at Jamie, and Michael wanted to kick him for pressuring her. His name tag read “Byers.”
“I’m ready now,” she said. She reached up and took one of Michael’s hands off her shoulders, gripping it. “Will you go with me?”
Like anyone could stop him.
She started toward her front door, and Michael glanced at the cops just in time to see their gazes drop to her ass. “Christ,” he muttered, and their gazes immediately bounced up. Protectiveness washed over him, and he bit back a growl.
Jamie stepped through the doorway and slowly walked down the hall. Michael felt a tremor in her hand as she turned into the kitchen. “Should I be walking in here?” she asked. “Am I going to ruin evidence?”
“Just don’t move anything till they get some pictures,” Michael said. “It’s not a murder scene.”
It looked like a tornado had ripped through the room. His gaze focused on three big zigzagging brown smears on the floor. “Is that his blood or yours?”
Jamie blinked at the smears. “Mine. I think that one is from my face.” She pointed. “And the others must have happened when I was kicking him from the floor. I cut the backs of my legs on broken glass. I didn’t even feel it.” She touched the bandage on her right thigh, a bewildered look on her face. “The EMTs spotted the blood.”
“Is anything missing?” Byers patiently asked.
Jamie surveyed the room. “I don’t think so. Nothing of value in here. Unless he likes Mauviel.”
Simultaneously, Michael snorted and Byers asked, “Likes what?”
“Cookware.” Michael pointed at the shiny copper pans strewn on the floor. “Spendy.”
Byers raised a brow at him.
“My mother likes it,” Michael explained.
A five-minute walk-though of the house turned up nothing missing. But someone had been thorough. Every drawer was pulled out and overturned. Closets emptied. Byers’s partner silently snapped digital shots. Jamie discovered her jewelry intact and her electronics untouched. The tenseness left Jamie’s shoulders, but she paced the kitchen, unable to relax. Nervous energy bleeding out her pores.
“They dug through everything,” Michael said. “How long were you gone?”
“About twenty minutes. I usually run for an hour, but my leg was bugging me.”
“You run every day?”
“Most days.”
“Same time of day?”
“Always at seven.”
Michael exchanged a look with the cops. “Someone knew your schedule. He thought he knew exactly how long he had. You must have surprised him before he could take off with anything.”
Jamie shook her head. “He wasn’t looking for valuables. He was looking for Chris.”
Electric shocks shot through Michael’s nerves. “What?”
The uniform taking notes said, “He kept asking where her brother was.”
Michael clutched at Jamie’s arm, whirling her to face him. “He wanted Chris? He said that?”
She nodded. “He said Chris would remember his cigarette burns. He’s the one, Michael, he’s the one who hurt Chris. He must be the one who killed all those children…and your brother.”
Daniel. Michael eased his grip on her arm and rubbed at it in apology. His mind felt ready to explode. The man who killed Daniel is still here. I will find him.
“Sorry, princess.” He turned to Byers. “You’ve got to contact Detective Callahan in OSP’s Major Crimes.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Major Crimes? Why? We’ve called out one of our robbery and assault detectives.”
Michael shook his head. “You’ve got to contact Callahan. This is related to a murder case he’s caught.”
Byers glanced at Jamie for confirmation. She nodded, still silent. “What the hell?” Byers asked. “Everyone out. Out of the house now.” He stepped closer to Michael. “You better know what you’re talking about. Why the f*ck didn’t the two of you say something to start with?” His glare included Jamie.
Michael’s hackles rose. “Because I didn’t know till she mentioned her brother, and she was in too much shock from fighting for her goddamned life.” He challenged Byers’s stare.
“I’m sorry—” Jamie started.
“Not your fault. Not your fault at all.” He rubbed his hands over her shoulders. “Did you get a look at him?”
She nodded and then started to shiver.
“Christ. Let’s get out in the sun. You got a coat you can grab?”
“Don’t take anything out of the house yet,” Byers interjected. “I’ve got a Mylar blanket in the car she can use.”
Jamie’s teeth started to chatter.
“Jesus,” said Michael. “Outside. Now.”