She swallowed. “I confronted Carl and told him to leave me alone. Later Heath got rid of the tracker on my phone, and that’s about it.”
Reese lifted an eyebrow and glanced down at Heath’s bruised knuckles. “I’m thinking there was a bit of a discussion between your fiancé and your ex. Heath?”
Heath shrugged. “We had words.”
“Just words?” Reese asked.
“That’s all I’m willing to say,” Heath said evenly. “If you’re out of questions, then . . .”
“What time did you have words with Carl Sparks?” Reese persisted.
Heath sighed. “Around suppertime. Why?”
Reese flipped over the cover on the file to reveal a picture of Carl lying on red snow, his neck a bloody mess, his eyes open in death, aimed at the sky. “Because we found him early this morning with his throat slashed to his spine.”
CHAPTER
25
Heath finished beating the hell out of the punching bag Denver had strung up in a corner of the garage. His knuckles ached and his temples pounded. He finished unwinding the tape from his hands just as his phone rang. Tossing the tape aside, he grasped his phone to see who was calling.
He paused for a second and then pushed a button to allow for a video chat. “Hi, Shane.”
Shane Dean’s gray eyes narrowed. “Why are you all sweaty?”
“Was workin’ out.” Heath tapped the birthmark beneath his left ear—the same one that Shane had. He stared at his brother in Montana, the one he’d first met just weeks ago, and searched for words. “What’s up?”
Shane’s gray eyes narrowed. “You’re not okay. Why not?” The tone, full of concern and determination, was low.
Heath breathed out. “A lot going on, man.”
Shane nodded. “I get that. You need me?”
Yeah. Definitely. This new brother had already worked his way right into the small circle of people Heath trusted—which mainly consisted of his other brothers. He and Shane needed time to really get to know each other. Soon. “Not with this case.”
Shane studied him. “Got it. We can connect after the case. But if you need me, I’ll come. You get that, right?”
Heath nodded, his chest filling. Bonds mattered, and he knew it. So did Shane. “I get it. Ditto, by the way.”
“Yeah,” Shane said with a short nod. “For now, there’s a new Internet search on the dark web looking for the Gray brothers and the Lost boys, which is apparently your moniker now.” He shook his head. “Dr. Madison is getting desperate, I think. She listed our first names along with the stupid group names she gave us.”
Pinpricks set up along Heath’s skin. Madison called the Gray brothers that because of their gray eyes, and the Lost boys must be from the name of the orphanage, the Lost Springs Home for Boys. “We all knew she’d be coming for us.” Heath eyed the closed door in the far corner, his muscles tightening. “We’re deep into the Copper Killer case right now.”
“Yeah. We’re trying to trace Madison now, but no luck so far. You know, my wife lived in Snowville. That’s where I caught up to her.”
Heath didn’t bother asking how Shane knew where he was. Shane’s intel was probably better than the NSA’s. “Snowville’s a nice town. How is everybody in Montana?”
“Just fine, but I still wanted to contact you.” Shane sighed, his jaw hard even through the phone camera. “I had a dream the other night, and I don’t want to push you, but I’ve been kind of wondering about her. About our mother.”
Ah hell. Heath felt the question like a punch to the gut. “She was, ah, pretty. Bluish green eyes, blond hair, and kind of slender.”
“Yeah?” Shane asked softly. “Was she nice?”
“Soft and nice,” Heath said, leaning against the door and watching the very quiet box covered with a blanket in the far corner by a space heater. “But she was scared and on the run. Now I know from whom.”
“Dr. Madison and the commander,” Shane said, his eyes going slate hard.
Heath rubbed the center of his chest. “She started taking drugs and went down the wrong path with the wrong men.” Damn, he wished there was another way to tell any of this to Shane. Just remembering those days hurt, and so did sharing them. “Died at the hands of one of her lovers—a man named Spyder, who got away before the police arrived. That’s all I know. We’ve been trying to track down Spyder for years without really knowing his name, and we can’t find him. He’s probably dead or in prison.” Heath waited a beat, failure rushing through him. If he’d been stronger or faster, then maybe Shane would’ve had a chance to meet his mom. “I’m sorry I let her die.”
