Justice is Coming
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Eden showed Declan the photo and went to the next one, a close-up of him at the diner across the street from his office. Probably taken with the same long-range camera since it had a grainy texture.
“Did you have any idea you were being photographed?” she asked, hoping that maybe he’d seen the person who’d snapped these shots.
Declan shook his head, and while his expression didn’t change much, Eden figured that had to bother him. It was a violation, something she knew loads about since this whole computer-hacking incident.
She clicked to another photo of Declan in his truck, turning onto the road that led to his foster family’s ranch and to his own place. The next shot was of his license plate.
And then Eden got to the last one.
The puzzling one.
It was an old wedding photo of four adults and a young boy. Even though the person who’d emailed it to her hadn’t identified by name all the people in the group shot, he had said that the child was Declan. He was about four years old, dressed in his Sunday best, and the people surrounding him were his parents, an uncle and the uncle’s bride. They were all smiling. A happy-family photo.
It didn’t make Declan happy now.
He closed his eyes for just a split second, and then he cursed, using some really foul language. And Eden knew why. She, too, was personally familiar with bad memories. And despite the smiles, this photo was indeed a bad memory, because in less than twenty-four hours after it’d been taken, Declan’s life had turned on a dime.
Or rather turned on a different kind of metal.
Some bullets.
“The information this hacker gave me was that the photo was of your family in Germany,” Eden said. “They were all murdered when you were four years old.”
Declan took a moment, inhaled a slightly deeper breath. “Why the hell did he send you that?”
Eden shook her head. “I was hoping you could tell me. The person also said your name had been changed after the murders.”
“It was. Twice. But as far as I know, no other living person has that specific information. Except maybe my family’s killer.”
Was that it? Was that the connection?
“What does this photo have to do with the order the hacker gave me to kill you?” she asked.
He snatched the phone from her, backed up, but he still didn’t lower his gun. He kept it aimed right at her while he glanced out the window. Maybe to see if the camera installer was returning. He apparently wasn’t, because Declan’s attention went back to the photos. There weren’t more to see, but he paused for a long time on that last one.
The bad-memory one.
“I’ve been digging, but I don’t have many answers,” she admitted. “Still, I have to believe that picture has something to do with all of this or he wouldn’t have sent it to me.”
Eden paused, hoping Declan didn’t shoot her for asking what she had to ask. “What do you remember about your family’s murders? Who killed them? Because the person sent me links of the old crime, but all the articles said the culprit was an unknown assailant.”
A sterile term for something far from sterile.
“I don’t know who killed them.” He was in control again. The tough cowboy lawman, and he was glaring at her, maybe because he didn’t believe she was innocent in all of this.
And maybe she wasn’t.
Eden didn’t know if she was one hundred percent blameless, but that was what she intended to find out—after she bought herself and her sisters some time.
“I don’t have any memories of the attack,” Declan finally added. “According to the shrink the cops made me see, I blocked them out.”
Too bad. But Eden cringed at the thought. Maybe blocking them out had been the only way Declan had survived. That and being hidden in a cellar while his family was murdered. If he hadn’t been in that cellar, he would have been killed, as well. In fact, Eden was afraid that Declan was the reason they’d been killed in the first place.
Judging from the look in his eyes, he thought so, too.
He groaned, dropped back another step and shoved her phone in his front pocket. Maybe so he’d have a free hand to scrub over his face—which he did.
“What’s the first memory you do have after the murders?” she asked.
“A few days later.” And that was all he said for several long moments. “The local cops put me in protective custody, gave me a fake name and eventually sent me to a distant cousin, Meg Tanner, in Ireland. I lived on and off with her and then some of her friends in County Clare for eight years before she brought me to Texas.”
Yes, because Meg had learned she had Parkinson’s disease and could no longer take care of Declan. Or at least that was the info Eden had been given by the mystery person who’d orchestrated this visit to Declan’s place.
“Eventually your cousin took you to the Rocky Creek Children’s Facility,” Eden supplied. “Why there?”
“She just said I’d be safe there. I got another name, the one I use now, and Kirby said I shouldn’t talk about my past to anyone. So I didn’t.”
Eden took up the rest of the explanation. “The facility didn’t normally take boys your age, but they made an exception. Actually, someone there faked the paperwork so you could be admitted.”
Declan glared again. “How do you know that?”
“Despite what you think of me, I’m a good P.I. I know how to find information, even when someone wants that information hidden.”
Though it had been especially challenging to get any records from the notorious facility because of an ongoing investigation into the murder of the orphanage’s headmaster, Jonah Webb. According to what she’d learned, Webb’s wife had murdered him sixteen and a half years ago when Declan was just thirteen years old and his five foster brothers had all been living at Rocky Creek.
And Webb’s wife had an unknown accomplice.
Declan and all five of his foster brothers were suspects. So was their foster father, Kirby Granger, the retired marshal who had “rescued” Declan and his foster brothers and then raised them on his sprawling ranch.
That led Eden to her next question. “Is this connected to Jonah Webb’s murder investigation?”
Declan certainly didn’t jump to deny it, and coupled with that photo of him as a child, this might be one very complex puzzle. Something they didn’t have time for right now.
“I need to fire the gun,” Eden reminded him, checking the time again. “The person who set this up needs to believe you’re dead.”
“So you’ve said,” he argued.
Eden was sure her mouth dropped open. “You don’t believe me?”
“Why should I?”
It took her a moment to get control of her voice so she could speak. “Why else would I have come here? Why else would I have those pictures of you?”
Declan gave her a flat look. “You tell me.”
Oh, mercy. She hadn’t expected Declan to blindly go along with the faked-death plan, but Eden had figured the photos would have at least convinced him that he was in danger. And not from her. But from the same person who could get her and her sisters killed the hard way.
She walked closer to him. “Look, I don’t want to be here, and I darn sure don’t want to be involved in this mess. I have enough going on in my life—”
“Enough going on that you could have cut a deal with someone to kill me. I’ve made enemies.”
Yes, he had made enemies. Plenty of them. For whatever reason, maybe old baggage from his childhood, Declan volunteered to take the worst cases. Scum of the scum. And men like that didn’t forgive and forget easily. They would often try to take revenge against the lawman who’d arrested them.
“I’m not disputing that people might want you dead,” Eden said. “But why come to me? Why involve me in this other than because you arrested my father? I think even you have to admit that’s a thin connection.”
“Maybe.” Clearly, he wasn’t admitting that at all. He reached down, picked up her gun and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. “Come on. You’re going to the marshals’ office with me so I can take a statement.”
Eden held her ground when he latched on to her arm. “Someone wants to kill you.” Though she’d already made that point several times. Either he didn’t believe her at all or he was ready to risk his life and hers by walking out that door.
“Think of my sisters,” she said, and she was ready to beg if necessary. “You know what it’s like to lose someone close to you. Don’t make my family go through that.”
Eden didn’t see what she wanted in his eyes—any indication that he was considering what she’d just asked. But then Declan turned his gun toward the floor.
And fired.
The two shots blasted through the small house, the bullets tearing into the wood floor. The sound was deafening. Unnerving.
But a relief, too.
“Thank you,” Eden managed to say despite her suddenly bone-dry throat. “Now, for the next step. While you pretend to be dead, I’ll leave and contact one of your brothers. I’m thinking maybe Harlan McKinney.” She’d researched them all, and he seemed the most levelheaded.
He shook his head. “I’ll call Wyatt. Harlan’s tied up with some personal stuff right now. Wedding plans,” he added in a mumble. His gaze shot back to hers. “I’ve got no intention of playing dead for long. You cooperate with Wyatt and me, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Before she could agree, Declan got in her face again. “Here’s the only warning you’ll get from me. If you’re lying about any of this, I will make you pay.”
She nodded, knowing that this was far from over. It was just the beginning, and Eden prayed they could all get out of it alive.
Using his left hand, Declan took out his phone from his pocket. Hopefully to call his foster brother Wyatt McCabe, but he didn’t press any buttons or numbers. Declan froze for a moment before his gaze shifted to the window.
Eden’s heart went to her knees. “Did you hear something?”
“Yeah.” He hooked his arm around her and shoved her behind him.
That only made her racing heart worse, and she came up on her toes to try to look over his shoulder. She didn’t have to look far.
Eden spotted someone beside the tree where that camera had been mounted. A man. He was peering through a scope on a rifle.
And he had that rifle aimed right at Declan O’Malley’s house.
Chapter Three
Declan backed Eden deeper into the shadows and took aim out the window. The guy didn’t appear to be on the verge of shooting, but Declan didn’t want to take any chances. If this moron fired, it would be the last shot he’d ever take.
Without moving his attention from the man with that rifle, Declan pushed the button on his phone to call his foster brother Wyatt.
“You still at the ranch?” Declan asked the moment Wyatt answered.
“Yeah. About to leave for work now. Why?”
“I got a problem. Several of them, in fact.” He spared Eden a glance to make sure she wasn’t ready to do anything stupid. Her attention, too, was staked to the guy outside, and judging from her reaction, his being there wasn’t part of her plan.
Whatever her plan was.
Just in case her plan was to still kill him, Declan repositioned her so that she was hip to hip with him. He didn’t want her in his line of sight in case she tried to grab her Glock from his jeans.
“A man has a rifle pointed at my house,” Declan explained to his brother. “I need you out here, but make a quiet approach from the back. I’d do it myself, but I have another unexpected visitor. This one’s inside, and it’s Zander Gray’s daughter.”
Wyatt cursed. “What the hell’s going on?”
“Not sure yet, but I’m about to find out.” Declan used the camera on his phone to click a picture of the guy, and he fired it off to Wyatt. “Send that to Dallas and see if we can get a hit on facial recognition. I need it fast. Oh, and if possible, keep the guy outside alive. I need to question him.”
“I’ll try,” Wyatt assured him.
Declan had no doubt that Wyatt would indeed try, and it shouldn’t take him long to get to Declan’s place, since the main ranch house was less than a mile away. Wyatt would hurry, too. No doubts about that.
“You recognize that man with the rifle?” Declan asked Eden the moment he ended the call with Wyatt.
“No.” She didn’t hesitate, either. “But I warned you that someone was likely watching.”
Yeah, someone who wanted to make sure she murdered him.
But there were some huge holes in her story. For instance, if someone had wanted him dead, why send a female P.I. with a goody-two-shoes voice and a body that could distract a man? A face, too.
Maybe that was exactly why someone had sent her.
Declan had never hurt a woman, even one that he’d butted heads with. And it could be the person behind all of this thought Eden might be able to pull the trigger before he even saw it coming.
Declan motioned for her to take out her phone when he felt it vibrate. She pulled it out, and her breath stalled when she saw the screen.
“The caller blocked the number,” she relayed.
The guy with the rifle had both hands on his weapon, so he wasn’t making the call, but it could be coming from the person who’d hired this would-be triggerman and Eden, as well.
“Answer it,” Declan insisted. “And put it on speaker.”
She nodded, and her hand was trembling when she clicked the buttons. Eden didn’t say anything. She just waited for the caller to respond, and she didn’t have to wait long.
“You there, Gray?” the caller asked her. A man.
Declan used his phone to record the call so he could have it analyzed. Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed as part of a murder investigation—Declan’s own or Eden’s.
“I’m here,” she answered. “I’m sure you heard the shots. O’Malley’s dead, so give me the password to delete the lies you planted on my computer.”
That request meshed with the story she’d told Declan, but he wasn’t ready to believe her just yet. For reasons he didn’t yet understand, all of this—including her response to this call—could be part of her plan.
“Can’t give you anything without proof,” the caller argued. “I’m sending in someone to see the body.”
“There’s not enough time for that,” Eden answered before Declan could coach her on what to say. “O’Malley managed to get off a call to the marshals. They’re on the way. Best if we all get out of here now.”
Declan gave her the worst glare he could manage, because that was not the way he wanted this to go down. He wanted the gunman to come inside the house. Or rather he wanted the gunman to try. Then Declan could have disarmed him and arrested his sorry butt so he could interrogate him. He darn sure didn’t want the guy running off.
“The marshals?” the caller growled. “How much time before they arrive?”
Maybe the glare worked, because she hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
Declan pointed toward the rifleman and then toward his front door. “Tell him to come in,” he mouthed.
After a long hesitation, she gave another shaky nod. “You should have time to check the body if you make it quick.”
But the caller didn’t jump at the chance to do that. “I have a better idea. You go ahead and get out of there, and I’ll verify O’Malley’s dead once you’re gone. Wouldn’t want the marshals to catch you.”
There was a taunting edge to his tone, but he didn’t give Eden a chance to come back with a response. “Leave now,” the caller said. “Walk out the front door and head straight for your car that you left on the ranch trail. If you go anywhere but there, our deal is off.” He ended the call.
Eden pulled in a long breath. “I’d like my gun before I go outside.”
Declan looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “The caller doesn’t believe you killed me,” he pointed out. “And the moment you walk out that door, his hired gun will bring you down before you can blink. You’re a loose end, and he’s not going to let you live.”
In fact, that had maybe been part of the plan all along. Somehow, convince Eden to kill him and then they’d kill her. That didn’t answer his question of why, but Declan figured he could get to that soon enough.
If he kept them alive, that is.
“He’ll try to kill me,” Eden agreed. “But I’m not a bad shot. Plus, I know he’s out there. I can fire as soon as I step on the porch.”
“Even if you’re the best shot in the state, that’s a stupid plan. He’s already got the rifle aimed and ready, and you don’t even know if he’s alone. If he misses, which I doubt he will, he could have a friend or two ready to make sure you die.”
Her eyes practically doubled in size. “Oh, God,” she mumbled.
Yeah. Oh, God.
Thankfully, Wyatt would be expecting the worst and knew how to sneak up to the house without being seen.
“So what do we do?” she asked. “We can’t just wait. He’ll be expecting me to walk out there.”
“Then he’ll be disappointed, won’t he? If he wants you dead—and I’m pretty sure he does—then he can send his lackey in to do the job.”
She mumbled another “Oh, God,” and practically slumped against him. “This could have been all about me. Maybe to set me up for your murder. Maybe I made the wrong enemy.”
“That’s one real good possibility. Or it could be he wants us both dead. A two-birds-with-one-stone kind of deal. Maybe we both made the wrong enemies.”
But why had this moron sent her the pictures of him? Especially that one photo of him and his family? The image of it was branded into his head, but seeing it again had brought the nightmare flooding back.
Hell.
After all these years, the nightmare was still there even though he had no memories of the day his family had been murdered. No clues to give the cops to help them find the person or persons responsible. Ironic, since his life now was all about finding justice for others, and he hadn’t found it for his own kin.
“When the person called you to set all of this up, did he give you any other details about my family?” Declan asked.
“No.” Eden made a soft sound of frustration. “But I did a background check to see if I could find any connection. I couldn’t.” She paused. “I couldn’t even find a record of your birth parents.”
Because there wasn’t one, and Declan should know because he’d searched for it for years. His cousin, Meg, had disappeared after she’d abandoned him at the Rocky Creek facility. That meant Declan had no idea if he even had any living relatives.
“When I was a kid, I asked anyone who might know something about my mom and dad,” he told her, “but I never got any answers.”
“Maybe the person who killed your family is behind this.”
Yeah. More of the nightmare. The killer returning, and this time there’d be no cellar. No place to hide. But he wasn’t a little boy any longer. He was a federal marshal who’d been trained by the best: his foster dad, Kirby. Declan could take care of himself, but at the moment, that wasn’t his biggest worry.
The killer could go after his family again.
His new family. The one he’d had since he’d left Rocky Creek sixteen years ago.
His brothers—Dallas, Clayton, Harlan, Slade and Wyatt—could also protect themselves, but Kirby was another matter. He was weak from chemo treatments and couldn’t fight off a fly. His long-time friend, Stella, was in the same boat. No chemo for her, but Declan figured she wasn’t capable of taking on hired guns, especially now. Both Kirby and she were no doubt still at the Maverick Springs hospital for an overnight stay, where Kirby was getting his latest round of treatments.
Just the thought of someone hurting Kirby had Declan reaching for his phone again, but it buzzed before he could make a call and have someone go to the hospital.
“You’ve got more than two problems, little brother,” Wyatt immediately greeted him. “In addition to the rifle guy out front, there’s another one on the west side of the house, right by the road that leads off the ranch.”
Oh, man. One gunman and a P.I. that he maybe couldn’t trust were bad enough, but now there was a third piece in this dangerous puzzle.
“Clayton’s on the way,” Wyatt added.
Declan didn’t want that, even if he might need the extra backup. “Send him to the hospital to guard Kirby.”
“You think he’s in danger?”
“Could be.” And it sickened Declan to even think that.
“My sisters need protection, too,” Eden blurted out. “Trish and Alice Gray. They’re both students at the University of Texas. I have a bodyguard watching them, but it might not be enough.”
Her plea certainly sounded convincing, but Declan wasn’t about to give her blanket trust just yet.
He heard Wyatt make a call and request the protection for all three—Kirby and the Gray sisters. Declan was hoping it was overkill, but he had a sickening feeling that this situation had already gotten out of hand.
“Try to neutralize the guy on the road,” Declan instructed his brother. “I’ll deal with the one out front.” He didn’t wait for his brother to agree. Wyatt would.
Declan shoved his phone into his pocket. “Wait here.”
Eden was shaking her head before he even finished. “I can give you some backup.”
“No. You’ll stay here.” Declan didn’t leave much room for argument, though he briefly considered returning her gun just in case the guy managed to get in the front door. However, there was that part about him not trusting her.
He took her by the arm and practically shoved her behind his sofa. “Stay put, and that’s not a suggestion.”
Whether she would or not was anyone’s guess, but Declan couldn’t worry about that now. He had to take care of this situation and then check on Kirby.
Declan locked the front door, though it wouldn’t stop a gunman from shooting through the wood and getting inside.
With Eden.
And that was what Declan couldn’t let happen, especially if it turned out that she was just a pawn in all of this. Even if she wasn’t a pawn, she could still have the answers he needed to figure out what the heck was going on.
He grabbed some extra ammo for his Colt from the top of his fridge, crammed it in his coat pocket and headed to the back door. He looked out to make sure there wasn’t another gunman lying in wait.
The backyard appeared to be empty, so Declan eased open the door and stepped onto the porch. He took a moment, listening, but didn’t hear any unusual sounds.
He hurried down the steps and to the side of the house. Using it for cover, he looked out and spotted the tree with the small camera mounted on the branch. The rifleman was there, beneath that camera, and he still had both his gun and attention fastened to the front of the house. Declan had a clear look at his face, but it wasn’t familiar. Maybe they’d get lucky with the recognition software or the interrogation he planned to do once he had these dirtbags in custody.
Declan froze when he heard something. Footsteps. But not from outside. They were coming from inside the house, and he cursed Eden for not listening to him. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t do something stupid like walk outside.
The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than he heard the back door open, and he saw Eden step out onto the porch. She had a gun. A little Smith & Wesson that she’d probably had concealed somewhere on her body. He cursed again. Damn. He should have taken the time to frisk her.
Too late for that now, though.
Declan caught the movement from the corner of his eye. From the guy with the rifle. The man stood. Not slow and easy, either. He flew to a standing position, and with that same lightning speed, he pivoted directly toward Declan.
And took aim.
“Get down!” Declan yelled to Eden.
He dived back behind the house, toward the porch and Eden, just as she dropped to the weathered wooden planks. She hadn’t even gotten fully down when the sound blasted through the air.
A shot.
And it hadn’t come from the direction of the rifleman but rather the west side of his property.
Where his brother had spotted the other gunman.