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THE PRESENT—SEPTEMBER 2019
Rochester Hills, MI
“Hey, man. You busy? I know it’s been a while, but I need your help. Give me a call.”
My eyebrows arch, my fingers trembling as I fumble with my phone while driving home. I replay the voicemail from the last person I thought I’d hear from—Colton Ramsay. His voice surges through the speaker like a sudden storm.
My pulse thrums against my neck. “Jesus, what the hell does he want?”
Gripping the steering wheel, I stare at myself in the rear-view mirror. My dark hair is still wet from my evening swim. Forking my fingers through the thick strands, I blow out a breath.
Just like that, a blast from the past has infected my evening.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Could give a guy some fucking warning.”
Colt and I have known each other since we were kids. Once upon a time, we were best friends, but I haven’t seen or heard from him in almost two years. Five years ago, he married into a ready-made family and took a job in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. We haven’t spoken much since he left Detroit.
Pulling into my apartment complex five blocks from where Colt and I grew up, I glance around with a sigh. “At least he escaped this hell.”
It wasn’t like I’d planned on returning to my hometown of Rochester Hills. Upon graduating from the FBI academy in Quantico five years ago, I’d been assigned all over the country. Dallas... Austin... Little Rock—can’t say I love the south much.
Three months ago, I was reassigned to the Detroit office. I sent Colt a quick text to let him know. His silence was proof that water never stays under the bridge.
Parking in my assigned spot, I climb out of my standard-issue black Chevy suburban, grab my bag from the passenger seat, and lock the doors.
“Luke! You’re back? Gina and I would love to go out if you’re—”
Hiking my duffle bag over my shoulder with a grumble, I barely acknowledge the twentyish redhead dressed in a short skirt and crop top made for teenagers. Occupying the apartment below mine, the woman has been flirting with me since I moved in. And I’m not interested. She screams clinger, and I’ve had enough of manipulative women screwing up my life.
Yeah... no bitterness here.
Entering the double doors of my building, I grab my mail and slowly climb the stairs. I unlock the door of my two-bedroom apartment and toss my keys on the table near the entryway. Throwing my duffle on the couch, I take my phone from my pocket and replay the message from Colt, not at all prepared to return his call.
I’m not sure why he contacted me out of the blue. Our last conversation had been awkward in the wake of his sister Penny bolting from his wedding like the place was on fire. It hadn’t helped matters that it was my fault she left and never returned to the reception. After that incident, I headed for higher ground, burying myself in the only thing I knew well: work.
Sinking onto the couch, I rub my temples and wince as a massive headache looms. My emotional energy is drained. Talking to Colt is like mucking through every bit of crap I’ve been through since the day I met the Ramsay family. Most of it wasn’t good. A lot of it was my fault.
Colton was my best friend growing up. We’ve shared almost everything since the third grade... tears when his father died, chocolate malts from Sonic, driving lessons, girl problems. Over the years, I even helped take down Penny’s bullies. I was his best man. I’m also godfather to his two kids, Jaxson and Sophie. We aren’t on bad terms per se. But life has gotten in the way.
“His life, maybe.”
Resentment festers at the back of my throat as I glance around my sparse apartment that screams bachelor pad. I’m almost thirty years old. What do I have to show for it but a portfolio full of field experience?
Not that I’m not proud of what I’ve accomplished. I’ve worked my ass off to become the regional specialist in charge of crimes against women. I’ve traveled most of the country to lend my expertise to the growing issue of human trafficking. I’ve sat on panels and even addressed various task forces to inform law enforcement departments about the new drugs criminals are using to subdue their victims. Everything I’ve set out to achieve in my career I’ve done in less than five years. But outside of the Bureau, I don’t have a life.
Now, ask me if I’m happy.
Colt has the perfect job and the perfect family. With a gorgeous wife and two kids, he’s luckier than he thinks. He has no clue what my life has been like the last five years.
I stare at my phone and sigh. That isn’t what’s holding me back. As clichéd as it sounds, time hasn’t healed old wounds, especially mine.
“Just get it over with, you pussy.” Pulling up Colton’s number, I hover over his contact information. I finally hit call, placing my phone on speaker.
And I wait.
“Donovan? That you?”
My pulse slows as I close my eyes, the familiar voice sending a bolt of dread through me. “Yeah, man. Long time, no see. How’re the kids and Kyra? Everything okay?”
A long sigh echoes through the speaker. “Sure. We’re all good here. Nice to hear your voice, bro. It’s been a minute. I hear life’s been busy.”
I pick at one of my most recent case files sitting on the table. “It has. I just got back from Austin last week.”
“I heard. That case in Arkansas sounded rough. But you got the guys, yeah?”
I press my lips together. It was the grisliest case I’ve ever worked. Two U.S. congressmen from Arkansas and Texas had orchestrated an intra-state child abduction ring, stalking young high-school girls during football games and luring them into a horrible life of sexual servitude. My partner Thomas Buckley and I are still recovering from the shit we witnessed during the three-month sting operation to catch the sick perverts. Abuse, starvation, rape... we saw it all.
Unfortunately for me, it wasn’t the first time I’ve dealt with such heinous crimes. Probably won’t be the last.
Placing my bare feet on the glass coffee table, I grunt. “You know how it is. Case is finished. On to the next.” Unfortunately. “I doubt you called me about work, man. What’s going on?”
“Actually, I did. There’s a situation going on up here, and I need your help. Well... not me. But it’s right up your alley.”
I sit up and frown. Colt had taken a detective’s position in a rural county on the western side of the Upper Peninsula after quitting the Bureau four years ago. As a field agent, he’d helped solve a case at the ski hill near his house—and fell in love. He never left. “You’ve got trouble up there again? Is it Bureau jurisdiction? I haven’t been called yet.”
“It isn’t my case. I wanted to get your take on it first. There’s a sick fuck killing sorority girls at a college three hours from where I live. Northern Michigan University in Marquette. You ever heard of it?”
My jaw clenches, and I swallow the memories threatening to explode from my stomach. “Isn’t that where your sister went to school?”
Colton clears his throat. “Um, yeah. Pen’s the one who called me. She’s working with the Marquette PD. They tried to contact the Bureau after the first girl died last summer, but nobody in Detroit looked into it. Two girls murdered in the last six months. Clearly Bureau jurisdiction, but no follow up with the Marquette chief. It’s criminal.”
Rubbing a hand across my scruffy jaw, I wince. “Shit, I’m sorry, man. I haven’t heard anything about it, but that doesn’t surprise me. We just got a new chief. He’s kinda green.”
“I know. David Cross is a good friend.”
Crap, I’d forgotten that Colt used to work with Chief Cross back in the day. “Just until Washington appoints a new one. It’s been a shitstorm here. But this case is news to me. I’m surprised they haven’t called Buckley and me about it.”
Colt mutters, “I haven’t contacted David yet. I wanted to run something by you before I do.” He inhales. “It’s personal.”
“What is it? Are you sick?”
Colt hesitates. “No... it’s my sister. I need someone to check on her.”
I bolt off the sofa, my heart racing at Mach 5. It’s worse than I thought. “Something’s wrong with Pen?”
“I don’t know. She hasn’t answered my calls. Last night was the first time I’ve talked to her in two months. But it’s always just business. It was about the case, of course.” Colt’s frustrated growl echoes through the speaker. “She won’t talk to us. Kyra’s tried, but Pen keeps shutting us out. She doesn’t look good, man. Dark circles under her eyes, pale skin... she’s working night and day for the PD. To prove what, I have no idea.”
As his voice wavers, my breath catches. It doesn’t surprise me in the least. Penny Ramsay has always been the poster girl for strong and determined. Imagine her picture merged with Rosie the Riveter. That’s her.
I sigh. “Wow... okay. What did she tell you?”
“Nothing of substance. She says everything’s fine. But this case is tough.” Colton lowers his voice. “The guy is raping and killing girls for sport. What if it sets her off? I don’t think she’s healed, man.”
Apprehension speeds through me like a wildfire gone rogue. Shit, now I understand why he’s worried. Growing up, Penny had endured the most brutal bullying I’ve ever witnessed—including a major assault. Because of that horrible night, I’d centered my master’s thesis around the case, making it my life’s work to champion victims of such crimes.
I squeeze the taut sinew at the back of my neck. Much as I’d like to help him, this goes beyond what I’m emotionally capable of handling. Remember those heinous crimes I mentioned? The look of hurt and betrayal on Penny’s face after the incident as we call it still gives me nightmares.
Not to mention she might not welcome my help.
I clear my throat. “Um, you sure you’ve got the right guy? Things didn’t end well the last time I saw her if you remember. In fact, she told me to fuck off. I doubt she’ll be happy to see me.”
“Trust me; you’re the last person I wanted to call, Donovan. She isn’t your biggest fan. I know that. But you’re the only one that might be able to help. You know what assholes like this killer can do. And you know what she’s been through. None of her friends do. She’s my baby sister, man. This could be the opportunity for you two to end this feud. Heal some old wounds.”
My blood simmers. Fucking understatement of the year. Five years after the cease-fire of the Luke and Penny Wars, I still have scars that run soul deep.
I pace the living room. “Have you talked to her about this? About me coming?”
Colt barks a laugh. “Hell, no! She refuses to say your name. Besides, I told you she only speaks to me on a professional level. She called about the case and asked if I could contact David. That was it. Nothing about how work has been, who she’s dating, nada. She’s changed. And not for the better.”
I shake my head. I’m not sure I’m ready to address the piles of shit standing between Penny and me. We have a very long history. Not to mention the drama between our families is a disaster movie waiting to happen.
“I don’t think this is a good idea. There’s too much pain in our past. Things you don’t know. Your sister and I weren’t on good terms.”
When were we ever?
A huff emanates through the speaker. “Fine. I didn’t want to do this, but damnit, Donovan—you owe me. Remember my father? The one who died on your dad’s watch? And all the shit that went down with Christy Mefford and Hannah Sparks? Not to mention your trouble with the law before Quantico. I’ll bet the Bureau would love to get ahold of the records that were lost so you could get in.”
The hair on the back of my neck bristles. What in the actual fuck? After years of tormenting myself for everything that happened, after blaming myself, I can’t believe my best friend wants to put me through this hell again.
I clench my fists. “This is bullshit. Are you threatening me?”
Colt sighs. “I don’t want to. But I’m desperate. Pen won’t talk to me.” His voice catches. “I’ve already lost my mom and dad. She’s all I have left. She isn’t well. I don’t want to lose her, too.”
At the implication of Colt’s words, fear and panic rip through me. “Jesus, you think she’s suicidal.”
“I. Don’t. Know,” Colt grounds out. “That’s why I’m asking you—fuck—begging you to help me. I need to know she’s alright.”
I brush a hand across the back of my neck, a million thoughts decimating my soul. Knowing Penny might be suicidal changes things. She’s been there before. I would have done anything to protect her then. I’d tried. Much as I’d wanted to make a difference when it mattered, I’d only made things worse.
There has been too much pain and death from the past. I can’t let Penny be the next victim. She wouldn’t let me save her then. Will she now?
Gripping my hair between my fingers, I say, “If I do this, you’ve gotta be the one to tell her I’m coming. I don’t want it to be a surprise. She won’t be happy to see me, I guarantee it.” She’s been through enough the last ten years. And I refuse to cause her anymore pain.
“Fine,” Colt mumbles. “If you’re game, I’ll contact David and relay the information to him. I’ll recommend you take the case.”
I scoff. “Not needed, but thanks.” It is a ridiculous request. Since I’m the special agent in charge of crimes against women, Cross will send my partner Buckley and me anyway.
“Probably not. But this goes beyond some sick fuck killing girls. I gotta be sure you’re the one he sends. After Cross gets the details, I’ll call Pen. And Donovan?”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of my little sister. Don’t you dare let her fall.”
A sharp pain slices through my chest as I swallow hard. It was the same promise I’d made myself once upon a time. “I won’t. I swore it to you, didn’t I?”
Colt harrumphs. “Yeah, and that worked out so well the last time.”
His acerbic tone whips through me like a slap across the face. “It’s been ten years since that shit went down. I’m a different person, man. I’m sure she’s changed, too.”
Colt chuckles. “You could say that. I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.”
Shaking my head, I grumble, “See ya, Ramsay.” I stalk to my bedroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Tousling my damp hair, I wince. “This isn’t smart. There’s no way in hell Penny Ramsay wants to see me.”
What if she is suicidal?
My pulse explodes against my neck as my blood canters through my veins like a pack of wild mustangs. Damnit, Colt has me by the balls, and not just because I owe the Ramsays. With one phone call, he’s scared me to the point of no return. He hasn’t mentioned Penny for years. I’ve asked about her numerous times, but he’s never given me crap.
Until now.
She’s my weak spot. And he knows it.
My stomach gurgles. Opening the medicine cabinet, I reach for the antacids and pop two in my mouth. Throwing the bottle upon the bed along with my duffle bag, I sigh. “It’s going to be one of those fucking months.”