Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(56)

The bartender wasn’t looking at the body on the ground. “I-I don’t know any—”

“My brother,” Max snapped. “His name’s Quinlan Malone, and he’s missing.”

Samantha glanced his way. Their eyes held for a beat of time. Then she dropped her hold and stepped to the side. The redhead got a full view of the dead woman. “No!” The bartender whirled away, shaking.

Samantha stared at the woman’s back. “You were friends, Gina.”

Gina gave a fast nod.

“You warned her to get out of the bar, but you should have listened to me. I told you I could help her.”

Gina’s shoulders shook as she cried—loud, gulping sobs.

“I need to find the man who did this,” Samantha said.

Gina glanced back at her and did not let her gaze drop to the body again.

“I need to find him because if I don’t…” Samantha shook her head. “More people are going to die.”

“Cover the body,” Dante ordered the tech who’d just finished photographing the scene. “Now.”

Gina’s lips trembled. “I-I don’t… know any-anything—”

“You knew her.” A jerk of Samantha’s thumb over her shoulder toward the body. “And now we need to know her. We need to know everything about her.”

A white cloth was pulled over the body.

The redhead’s eyes dropped, and she stared at the cloth.

“He left her with the garbage,” Samantha said. “Is that what she deserved?”

“N-no…”

“Then help me find the bastard who killed her.”

A tear trickled down Gina’s cheek, and she nodded.

“Good, good.” Samantha caught Gina’s shoulder. “Let’s start with her name. What was her name, Gina?”

“V-Veronica. Veronica J-James.”

“And where did she live?” Samantha asked as she guided her away from the crime scene.

“Seventeen-oh-nine Belmont…”

“Near Georgetown?”

“Y-yeah.”

They disappeared, turning right at the edge of the alley.

“Get the body out of here,” Dante ordered the team around him. “And I want a unit to head with me to Belmont.” He fired a glance at Max. “You in for this, Ridgeway?”

Try to keep me out.


Sam went with the uniforms to 1709 Belmont. The officers immediately went to work searching the one-bedroom apartment. Max came with them, but Luke ordered him to remain outside until they’d secured the scene.

Ignoring the team around her, Sam sat at Veronica’s keyboard, tapping quickly. The password was eliminated in five seconds. Veronica’s favorite band. Luckily, Veronica had left a stack of their CDs near her desk.

She scrolled through the files. Nothing. Nothing. E-mails flew past her, names, dates. She checked as fast as she could, looking for something that would tie Veronica to the kidnappings.

“Anything?” Kim asked from behind her.

Sam shook her head and went deeper into Veronica’s search history on the computer. Wait… driving directions.

She pulled up the archived file. Directions to 2917 Kyler Boulevard in Fairfax, Virginia. Directions that Veronica had looked up the day before the first victim went missing. The day before.

Fairfax was right in the middle of the kill zone. They’d mapped out a geographic zone for the kidnapper, and that area of Fairfax was within driving distance to every disappearance. She glanced back at Kim, who already had her cell out.

“Pull up this address,” Kim said into the phone. “Two nine one seven Kyler Boulevard. In Fairfax, Virginia. Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Now tell me who owns that property.” After a few moments, Kim’s eyes widened. “No shit.”

Sam’s heart thudded against her ribs. Hurry, hurry. Kim whistled softly. “Guess who owns an old warehouse in Fairfax?”

Sam wasn’t in the mood to guess.

“Frank Malone.”

What?

“Seems he bought some property over there about five years ago. Bought it, used it, then forgot it. The warehouse has been boarded up for the last six months.” A brief pause. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

Sam jumped out of the chair. “I think we need to get to that warehouse.” Because Jeremy Briar had been left in his father’s driveway. Because Adam Warrant’s body had been found in a garage owned by his father.

No, Christ, no.

Fairfax would be a perfect kill site.


Frank had taken Beth’s car and slipped away without the guards. Frank had his gun—he wasn’t stupid—but he was scared.

The warehouse waited at the end of the street. Darkened windows, tall walls. Abandoned.

He reached for his phone. Hesitated. Call Max. The whisper in his head. He should let Max know where he was. What was happening.

Would you trade your life for his? Is he worth that much?

His hands curled into fists, and Frank sucked in a sharp breath. No, he wouldn’t call Max. Time for me to do something right.

He shoved open the car door and climbed out slowly. “Hello!” His voice echoed back to him. There were no cars here, no lights. Nothing but the night and that damn warehouse.

Was this a trick? Another sick, twisted joke to pull him in and leave him with nothing?