killer might not be out there anymore,” Ash remarked. “He could be locked up or dead. But this guy, Natalie’s half brother, is the one who attacked Rachel to try to destroy the DNA evidence from our parents’ murder—”
“Why did he do it? He couldn’t have been their killer,” he repeated, “so he must have been trying to protect someone.”
Gray sucked in a breath. “Maybe that’s why he tried to kill Natalie.”
“Because she did see something that night our parents were murdered,” Ash said. “Maybe the killer …”
“We don’t need to know who this Wade guy was,” Thad repeated, “although finding that out will help us learn what we really need to know—who his father is.”
“And if he was locked up or dead, his son wouldn’t have gone to the extent he had to protect him,” Ash reasoned. He wrapped his arms around Rachel, as if he needed to protect her even inside the lab in the basement of the St. Louis Police Department.
Gray swore beneath his breath. “So even though that son of a bitch is dead, there’s still a threat out there?”
Thad shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Rachel, we’ll need you to run the DNA from the old crime scene and compare it to the stalker’s DNA.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t have access to any of the original evidence anymore,” she said, patting her belly. “Not even the results. I’ve been taken off the case because no one with any connection to a Kendall is being allowed near the case files or the evidence.”
“They don’t trust that we really want justice,” Ash said.
“Can you talk to someone with access and have them run it?” Thad persisted.
She shook her head. “The stalker was too young to be considered a viable suspect in the old murders. They won’t look at him for any connection.”
“That’s why the Kendalls should be running the investigation,” Thad said. It was why they were going to damn well run their own.
A short while later, when Thad walked through the parking garage to his car, he knew that there was definitely a threat. He felt someone’s gaze boring into his back. It could have been reporters, but he doubted it. If they’d made it past the police department parking garage attendant, then they would have been rushing him with cameras and questions. They wouldn’t have just watched him.
But then why would the killer watch him? He hadn’t witnessed anything the night his parents died. He’d done nothing to save them. But he had saved lives in his real job. He’d also taken lives. Maybe Michaels had given him up. He reached beneath his jacket, but his holster was locked up, with his gun, inside his glove box. He wouldn’t have gotten it past the security scanners in the police department unless he’d had Ash clear it for him. And his brother would have had too many questions about Thad having a license for a concealed weapon.
Now, as the hairs on the nape of his neck lifted with foreboding, Thad wished he’d answered those questions, so that he was armed. Keeping close to vehicles for cover, he visually scanned the garage, looking for whoever was staring at him with such intensity. Yes, there was definitely a threat still out there, and it was focused wholly on Thad.
ONE KILLER ALWAYS RECOGNIZES another…
Thad Kendall couldn’t see him through the tinted windows of his SUV, but still Ed ducked down when the man turned toward his vehicle. How could anyone be fooled by Kendall’s cover?
He was so much more than a bored rich kid or a globe-trotting reporter. Sure, maybe it was because of where he’d reported stories that he moved as he did—as if he had a target on his back. But when he’d felt Ed watching him, he had reached for a gun whereas a reporter’s instinct would have been to grab a microphone or a camera instead. Not a weapon.
Kendall was also a damn good shot … when he was armed. But he had no gun now. No protection at all. And he was so close. All Ed would have to do was start the engine, stomp on the gas and run him down. Ed shook with anticipation—not withdrawal. He didn’t need a drink. He needed vengeance. He could almost imagine the satisfying crunch of the man’s bones beneath the tires of his SUV.
It would hurt Kendall. But not enough.…
The son of a bitch wouldn’t feel as much pain as he had caused. So killing him wouldn’t be satisfying at all—not until Thad Kendall had suffered. All Ed had to do was watch and figure out what would cause Thad the most pain.
Chapter Three
This time Caroline opened the door to his knock. And no one was surprised, like when Mark had let Thad into their house. Then she had been on the phone with Tammy when the doorbell rang, so her son had beaten her to the door and totally disregarded the rule of not opening it unless he knew who was at it.
This time she’d known Thad was coming because she had invited him. But still her heart started beating faster at the sight of him. Fluffy snowflakes melted in his dark hair and clung to his high cheekbones and strong jaw. She stepped back to let him inside, but he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
She followed his gaze to the street. Was he waiting for someone? A lawyer? That was why she’d called him—because she hadn’t wanted to force him to fight for his parental rights. With the full resources of the Kendall money and power, he couldn’t lose.
But she could potentially lose her son. Her salary barely stretched to cover her mortgage, Mark’s day care and their living expenses. She couldn’t afford a lawyer, too.
Thad finally stepped inside and closed the door, shutting out the snow and the cold and whoever he might have been looking for.
“Is Mark here?” he asked, glancing around the inside of the house like he had the outside.
Was that a habit he’d picked up from traveling to war-torn countries? He’d probably had to learn to be vigilant in order to stay alive. A lot of reporters hadn’t made it back from the places Thad had been.
Caroline drew in a shaky breath. “Mark is upstairs.”
“So you’re not worried about him hearing us fight?” he asked with a glance toward the open stairwell.
“I’m not going to fight you.”
“What does that mean?” he asked. His eyes, which were the same sapphire-blue of his son’s, widened in surprise. “You’re going to let me see him?”
Her stomach tightened with nerves, but she couldn’t deny her son the chance to get to know his father. Given Thad’s lifestyle, this could possibly be the only chance the boy would ever get. Too bad he would probably be too young to remember him. “If that’s what you really want …”
“He’s my son. Of course I want to see him,” he replied, as if offended by her suggestion. “I’ve already missed so much.”
“And you’ll miss even more when you leave again.”
He ducked his chin as if she’d taken a swing at him. But he didn’t deny that he would leave. “I have a job to do.”
“You don’t
