Dead Don't Lie (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY

S
HE
WOULDN
’
T
BECOME
a ghost. She couldn’t. She owed them that. Evelyn sank into the chair, stared through a film of tears at the photo of Liam and Ava smiling up at her for a long time. Still clutching her phone, she unlocked it with a swift swipe and dialed.

“Chief?”

With that word, an invisible, internal pendulum swung. Grief still penetrated every cell in her body, but a tidal wave of determination rolled over her: to catch the asshole who took Ryan and his family, to bring justice and closure to the families before them. She straightened.

“Evelyn. How are you?”

She took a deep breath. “Marcus told me Liam was found. When can I see him?”

“I would imagine sometime after the funeral.” He hesitated. “But only if you’re up for it.”

“Yes, I understand, sir.” Her chest constricted. “I would like to be there for the funeral.”

She could only imagine the look on the chief’s face. The long pause on the other end of the line grew. “Sir.”

He cleared his throat. “We can arrange that. I’ll get a protective detail prepped to sit with—”

“No, no, not sitting in the crowd. I want...I need, rather, to help carry...” She clutched the phone and squeezed her eyes closed. Some faceless monster wasn’t going to make her cower like a scared animal. She wouldn’t run and hide. She was stronger than that. Evelyn took a deep breath. “Sir, I need to help carry Ryan’s casket.”

* * *

T
HE
SUN
SHONE
BRIGHTLY
, a golden ball of warmth and light. Its rays bounced off the deep waters of Puget Sound, tiny diamonds sparkling and shimmering on its face. Evelyn looked at the brilliant blue sky and shuddered. How ironic. Most days, Evelyn yearned for the sun: for the memories it brought, its warmth, its comfort, its cheerful occupation of the sky. But today, of all days, she cursed the happiness it promised but could not deliver. Why couldn’t the familiar clouds—gray, heavy, comforting—occupy the sky, blanketing them in a world of secure gray?

Heaven knew she needed it.

Today, she would bury more loved ones.

Silence fell over the six officers as each of them shouldered an equal share of Ryan’s weight. Even with it dispersed, the corner of his flag-draped coffin dug deeply into Evelyn’s shoulder. Another wave of anguish washed over her as she took that first deliberate step.

They walked with careful, measured strides over the perfectly manicured cemetery grounds, a soft emerald carpet unfolding before them. The pathway to his final resting spot was lined with uniform-clad men and women—police and firefighters alike, black ribbons strung across their shields, each raising their right hand and honoring him with a silent, crisp salute as they passed. Behind them, the rest of their division split to shoulder Kate and Ava’s coffins. There wouldn’t be a family gathering afterward. There was no family to gather.

Evelyn tried not to look at their strong, stoic faces. She tried to keep the hurt and sorrow she saw mirrored in her fellow officers’ eyes from penetrating the feebly constructed barrier around her heart.

Liam lay in the hospital, but she had yet to see him. It had been agreed that she’d do so after today. So with emotions locked in a vault, tucked deep in her soul, she forced back the advancing pain and focused on the task ahead of her. Foot in front of foot. That’s all she could do right now.

Evelyn’s request to be part of the funeral procession, to be one of Ryan’s pallbearers, was a simple one. She wanted everyone in the world—whoever was watching, whoever cared—to see that even in death, they were still partners. Her city needed it. Her house needed it.
She
needed it.

She’d secretly hoped that the person who had done this, who had taken her partner and his family from her, would see her there, see he hadn’t broken her. That her presence would show that bastard she was strong and resilient, and now hell-bent on tracking him down and taking him out.

She knew being at the front corner of Ryan’s coffin wouldn’t necessarily scream all that, but it would send a clear, distinct message.
You didn’t get me.

So here she was, the edge of Ryan’s flag-wrapped coffin resting heavily on her left shoulder.

How fitting
. She chewed the inside of her cheek, combating her emotions. How many times had Ryan offered a shoulder for any one of the officers in their house: to cry on when life tried to swallow them, to lean on during an intense and exhausting investigation, to be the calming force in the midst of chaos? He was—had been—steadfast and strong. And now he was gone.

She would miss him, a permanent hole left in her heart.

Biting her lip until her tongue tasted copper, she cursed herself.
Stop. Don’t think about that. Get inside that bastard’s head and nail his ass to the wall.

A tiny grim smile tugged at her lips. Yes. If it took her until the day she died, she would find the bastard who did this.

* * *

E
VELYN
’
S
PRESENCE
BY
Ryan’s casket was brash. And dangerous. Her very public appearance at the funeral could be seen as the equivalent of flipping off the prick who’d left that note.

But they—the chief, Marcus and Derek—had all agreed it was necessary. Not only for Evelyn and the entire SPD, but also for all of Seattle. As hard as they’d tried to keep Ryan’s murder out of the paper, it was eventually leaked to the press.

And chaos followed.

In the privacy of the chief’s office, it had been agreed that Marcus would protect Evelyn at all costs. His priority—not that he needed the chief’s order for that—was Evelyn’s safety. He weaved in and out of the crowd, shouldering past the men and woman who served and protected Seattle, following Evelyn closely. It grated on his nerves that he couldn’t walk next to her, support her, shield her. But that was out of the question. Although he’d been working closely with Ryan and Evelyn, he was still a Fed—an outsider. And though the chief and the mayor trusted him and wanted him here, not everyone shared that sentiment. There was a lookout team on guard in the case the perp came today. He trusted the team to do their job, as they’d trusted him to do his—guard Evelyn.

So, from the cover of the shadows, he followed and watched.

Back straight, arms tucked tightly to her sides and even with fisted hands throughout the short ceremony, Evelyn stood elegant and beautiful in her crisp, class A uniform. He could see the sorrow, the pain and the rage running through her.

What he saw nearly took his breath away. His mouth twitched in a tight line, pride surging though him. Even now, she was trying to be strong for her team, to let them feed off of her strength—or her perceived strength. She was fighting not to lose it. He could see it in her face, the way she lightly chewed the inside of her cheek, the way she curled her fingers into balled fists. God, she was an incredible woman. Most would have passed on being a pallbearer, allowing their emotions to dictate their actions, to give them liberty to fall apart.

But not this woman.

A slight movement caught his attention. With a deep breath, Evelyn separated herself from her fellow officers and pushed toward the podium.
What the hell?
Was she giving the eulogy, as well?
He watched with hawklike intensity as she settled behind the podium, took another deep breath, then looked out at the crowd. Her ability to control her facial expressions prevented anyone from seeing the war of emotions raging inside of her. But Marcus’s training kicked in, and he saw it. His heart ached for her.

“Ryan Michael O’Neil was a faithful husband, an adoring father, a steadfast, loyal partner and the most remarkable cop.” A sad smile played at her lips. “Anyone who knew him knew that his wife, Kate, and his children were the absolute loves of his life. He cherished them and ferociously protected them. The job took second place. No one could persuade him otherwise.”

Soft laughter rode on the cool breeze as many in the crowd of Seattle’s finest nodded.

“Yet he was a man of unending valor, one who attacked each day with a renewed sense of hope and excitement. Everything Ryan did was to one end—to uphold and protect justice. And he did that to his very last breath. The world lost an incredible man—” Her voice cracked. Evelyn tightened her grip on the podium, then bowed her head.

Marcus wanted to go to her, but didn’t. She needed to do this on her own, to prove to everyone, including herself, that this would not cripple her. That she was strong enough.

She raised her head and glanced toward Marcus. It didn’t surprise him that she’d found him amongst the crowd. The time they’d spent together had only magnified the undeniable attraction between them. But publicly locking eyes with him for even a split second shocked the hell out of him. He’d known how important it was to her to keep the professional line drawn. However, the look she gave him now, her eyes searching and...needy, was anything but.

She took another breath.

“The world lost an incredible man, and his void will forever be felt by those privileged enough to know him, for it’s a space that we will never be able to fill.” She paused. A small, tentative smile pulled at her lips. “But his legacy will live on. His son will grow up knowing his father inspired many to uphold justice, no matter what the cost. He encouraged people to push past the darkness in the world we see every day and to celebrate the goodness that’s evident, if we’d only look for it. His father championed everyone he came in contact with, be it for a moment or for years, to be better men and women. He drew the best out of people, and he saw the good in the world. And that’s simply remarkable.”

Her eyes flickered to the casket to her right, and her smile faded. Pain flashed across her eyes, and her face blanched for a moment. “An integral, dynamic part of our community has been stolen with his untimely passing. I lost an incredible partner and friend. The SPD will forever feel his loss. But we’ll hold his memory close to us and live our lives in honor of Detective Ryan O’Neil.”

* * *

L
EAVING
THE
PODIUM
under the cover of reverent silence, Evelyn passed the casket holding her partner, her friend. Her bottom lip trembled for one brief moment as she stood, back straight, hands fisted, looking down at the flag-draped coffin. Her chest heaved. She dropped to her knees, bowed her head and gingerly placed a hand at the head of the casket. She squeezed her eyes tight, willing herself to be strong. Just a little longer. She was quickly losing the battle that raged in her, especially now that it felt as though every cell in her body wept, collectively grieving for the man she knelt beside. The feebly constructed wall around her heart crumbled, and that terrified her. She rested her head against the smooth side of the casket, shutting out everyone around her.

“I’m sorry I failed you, Ry,” Evelyn whispered. Her throat closed around a sob. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Taking a deep breath, she stood, composing herself once more. She stepped back, lifted her head and saluted. The rest of their uniformed family followed suit.

An unspoken vow had been whispered in the depths of her being the moment Kate opened her door all those years ago. A vow to love and protect. Although not family by blood, this family had woven themselves into her soul, making her one of their own. She was supposed to protect her own.

Yet three caskets now lay side by side, evidence of three people she’d failed.

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. They all tore at her, but it was Ava’s tiny casket that ripped at her heart and caused grief to claw at her chest. She pushed back the emotions and commanded herself to keep it together. She’d gotten this far, gotten through the eulogy. She could make it until she got back to Marcus’s, until the quiet of his loft provided the sanctuary and privacy she desperately needed.

The groundskeepers lowered Ryan’s casket into the ground.

Each shot of the twenty-one-gun salute chipped away at her resolve, tearing into her, ripping apart her already bruised and bleeding heart.

Evelyn clung to her last reserves of composure. She had to get away, needed time to grieve, time to rage, time to fall apart completely, then painfully pull herself together. Because she would track down the man who did this.

And she’d destroy him.

He’d wounded her, yes, but even though it felt as if she would never recover from this tragedy, she knew she would. Someday.

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder toward the three graves. She hadn’t let the death of her family devastate her then, and she wouldn’t let the death of this family shatter her now.

She couldn’t.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

T
HE
MOMENT
THEY
walked into the warmth of Marcus’s home, the makeshift emotional barrier around Evelyn’s soul crashed. Grief reached up and gripped her throat. She fought for breath. Paralyzed with raw emotion, she was unable to move from where she stood in the cozy foyer. Panic, pain and rage slammed into her.

All at once. Consuming her.

“Oh.” She doubled over, hands on thighs and her head between her knees.

“Evelyn?” Marcus locked the door, then quickly went to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Evelyn?”

“Give me a minute.” She crumpled onto the hardwood floor, buried her head in her arms and sobbed.

She’d hoped to make it to the privacy of the bedroom. But now, as another wave of sorrow wrecked her, she didn’t care that she’d melted down in front of Marcus. Hadn’t he already witnessed this once already? She didn’t even care. The only thing she could think about, the only thing she felt, was the soul-consuming grief that roared over her like searing lava, blistering everything it touched. She gave in to it until she had no more tears to give.

She lay there, cheek hugging the cool floor, and stared at Marcus. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, giving her space. She loved him for that. She needed to get up, but didn’t have the strength. She closed her eyes.

“Okay. Your minute is up.”

Her eyes popped open. Marcus crouched down beside her. He gently gripped her chin and lifted her face. With his thumb, he wiped away the mascara streaking down her cheeks. “Talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“You don’t have to be brave, strong or stoic here, Ev. You’re safe. So start talking.”

She pulled herself up to a sitting position and drew her knees to her chest. “What good will it do?”

“A hell of a lot. Let it go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to recover if I do. Okay, Marcus? If I start talking now, I might not be able to come back from that darkness.”

“You’ll come back,” he said softly.

“I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

“Why? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to catch the asshole who did this, that I won’t be able to protect Liam or make it right.” She started crying again. “That I’ll let down more people I love.”

Marcus’s head snapped up. “You think this is your fault?”

“You read the note, Marcus.”

His face hardened. “Just because some sicko wrote a note doesn’t mean you’re responsible for his actions.”

She scrambled to her feet, dragged her hand over her wet eyes. “Doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t. It means he’s a sick bastard. That’s it.”

“I can’t deal with this right now.” She stomped down the hall and slammed the bedroom door behind her.

* * *

M
ARCUS
SENSED
MOVEMENT
before his eyes made out the shape standing in the doorway. He grabbed his Glock and flipped off the safety. He didn’t know how to move without letting the shadowy figure know he was awake. But he had to, had to get to Evelyn.
He shouldn’t have agreed to Derek staying at a hotel tonight. Damn it.
Marcus’s pulse took off. He silently swore as he slipped from the guestroom bed and crouched beside it.

“Make a move, and I’ll blow your head off.”

“Marcus?”

His heart lodged in his mouth.
Evelyn?
He flipped the safety on and stood. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t hear her response, just the muffled sobs coming from her. He put his gun on the nightstand and went to her. She leaned against the door frame, heavy tears streaming down her face. Marcus’s heart broke as he watched the anguish tear through her.

“Evelyn, sweetie.” He opened his arms and pulled her to him. “Come here.”

She leaned into him, pressing her body against his. Even through the button-down shirt, he could feel her warm curves. She tilted her face up and her lips found his. Shock tore through him. Sex was the last thing he’d expected from her. He stood still as she slipped her hands around his neck. Then he returned her intensity with his own.
What the hell are you doing, Moretti?

“Evelyn—”

“I need to forget the pain. Even if it’s only for one night. Please.”

She found his mouth again, but he stiffened. She pulled back. “You don’t want me?”

He brought her into the room and shut the door. He looked at her and almost lost his self-control.

She hugged her arms around her body.

“Of course I want you. I’ve wanted you every single day since I met you.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I think I made that pretty clear the other night. And I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since. But we just buried your partner, your best friend.”

She frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he said softly.

“Of what? My emotional state? Please don’t make me beg, Marcus. I need to forget. I can’t think of the pain, the death, the loss for one more minute. I’m slowly losing my mind, my soul. All I can think about is how much I hurt, and it’s suffocating. Please. I just need to forget. For one night, I need to forget that the world is ugly, mean and dark. I need to feel alive, even if it’s only for one night.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Please don’t make—”

He swallowed the rest of her words as his mouth found hers. He scooped her in his arms, held her to his chest and carried her to the bed. Tonight, he’d make her forget. He’d make her feel how loved she was, how safe she was. He’d deal with the consequences later.

He lowered her to the bed and looked at her.
God, he loved this woman.
The intensity of his feelings startled him. He cradled her face and brought his lips to hers. He showered her with light touches and kissed away the renegade tears that slipped down her cheeks. His stomach tightened. Where he touched her, his skin burned.

Evelyn pushed her body closer to his, seeking his kiss with equal passion, equal fervor. Marcus lowered his lips to hers and pressed lightly, tenderly. He moved to her eyes and kissed softly. She moaned as his lips traveled down her neck. Desire spread through him.

He wanted Evelyn, and he wanted her now.

He reached for her shirt and pulled at the buttons. She raised her arms to aid in its removal. Gently, he tugged it over her head, then threw it to the floor. He kissed her again and traced his lips down her collarbone, past her navel.

She shuddered, pushed closer and reached for his waistband. Her fingers brushed along his stomach, journeyed lower, traveled downward.

Marcus ran his fingers and mouth over her and committed every inch of her body to memory. He made her forget.

* * *

E
VELYN
WOKE
UP
molded to Marcus’s body, her leg draped over his thigh, her face nestled against his chest and her ear tuned into the constant rhythm of his heart. She didn’t pull away. She just lay there in the silence of the dawn and enjoyed his closeness.

She’d known what she’d asked him last night. It hadn’t erased the pain. It was still there, but so was something else. She felt grounded, bound to something besides the constant dull ache of agonizing grief.

Marcus. She was tethered to him. He gave her strength, courage...hope.

“Morning, beautiful. I was half expecting to wake up tied to the bed, with you long gone.” He kissed the top of her head.

She gazed at the man she’d completely fallen for. “Nope. This caveman I know told me to stay put.”

Her head bobbed in time with his laughter.

“Though I’m hoping there’s coffee in my future.” She sat up and pulled the covers up. “I’d like to go in and speak with the chief about Liam. He said we could discuss it after—”

He gathered her closer to him. “Done and done.”