He nodded. “Okay. Go on. What happened next?”
“She begged me to bring the bag home so she could give it back to Leo. I don’t know why, but I finally agreed.” Her body trembled now, matching the strain in her voice. “B-but when I got home a little after three, the door to the apartment was cracked open. I went inside and found Mom, Susan,and Nicholas…” Her voice broke. “They—they were tied to kitchen chairs. Gagged. They’d all been shot.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in several unsteady breaths, as if trying to keep herself from falling apart. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Dan shifted closer and took her hand, offering silent support. She glanced at him and gave a small nod before continuing.
“I think Leo—or someone working for him—did it. The place was torn apart, like they were searching for the bag. I was about to call the police, but then I remembered what Susan said about Leo having connections. I didn’t know if she’d told them I had the money before they killed her.” Her fingers tightened around Dan’s. “So I went to my room, grabbed what I could, and ran.”
Her gaze dropped, voice barely above a whisper. “I knew if they found me, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me too. I’ve been running ever since. I left Chicago and just… kept moving. I hitchhiked and took buses to wherever I could go without leaving a trail, and slept in cheap motels that took cash.”
She swallowed hard. “They almost caught me. Twice.”
He was still trying to process everything she’d said when his brother spoke up. “How?”
“Once at the bus depot in Chicago. I was trying to get out of the city when I saw Leo and two of his friends searching the station. I slipped out through a service entrance, ran, and hitchhiked out. The second time was about a week later in a small town south of Columbus. I got a ride from a couple of college girls, and we ended up in a fender-bender. The police showed up before I could disappear, and I had to hand over my ID. I didn’t think anything of it at the time—I’d never been on the run before.”
She hesitated, then pushed on.
“I stayed at a motel that night. The next day, I was in a convenience store when I saw three men in a black Escalade driving up and down the main road. Illinois plates. I just knew they were looking for me, so I left as fast as I could.”
Brian shifted slightly, some of the tension easing from his stance, though not enough to make a difference. “The officer wouldn’t have run your license right away, but it would’ve gone into the system when the accident report was filed. That’s probably how they tracked you.”
KC dragged a hand down his face, the scrape of his morning stubble rough against his palm. He wanted to believe her—to believe she was telling the truth—but that meant everything up to nowhad been a lie. He should’ve seen it. Should’ve pressed her harder—especially about the gun with its serial number filed off. Instead, he’d ignored the signs and let himself get pulled in by his attraction to her.
His brother stepped around the couch, nudged the duffel bag aside, and sat down beside him. “How much money is in there, and where’s the gun?”
“One hundred thousand dollars, minus what I’ve used for food and expenses. The gun is in my room.”
A low whistle came from his uncle at that.
KC dragged a hand through his hair, frustration building as the pieces fell into place. “The serial number was filed off,” he said, glancing at his brother. “I was teaching her how to shoot it so she could defend herself.”
Brian bit out a curse, then pushed to his feet and started pacing the length of the patio. “This keeps getting better and better.”
“Is there any way you can find out what’s going on up in Chicago,” KC asked, “without raising any red flags?”
Stopping mid-stride and turning back toward him, Brian set his hands on his hips as he considered the question. “Not likely. Any inquiry I make couldtrigger a call from Chicago PD before the day’s out. I can tell them her purse was turned in as found property or something like that—but it’s still a risk.” He paused, thinking it through. “I’ll call Sean, see if he has any contacts up there. Maybe he can get someone to take a quiet look around.”
The youngest of the three, Sean Malone, was an FBI agent in Jacksonville, Florida.
Turning back to Moriah, Brian pointed a finger at her. “In the meantime, I’m securing the money and the gun. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you’re staying here where KC can keep an eye on you while I check out your story. I want to think you’re telling the truth, but I need proof you’re not holding anything back.”
Sobbing, she pressed a hand to her chest. “I swear, that’s the whole truth. I loved my family. I would never have hurt them.”
KC pushed to his feet. He was still angry—no question about that—but deep down, he was convinced she hadn’t had anything to do with what happened to her family, aside from taking the duffel that had set everything in motion. What he couldn’t shake was everything else—whether what they’d shared had been real or just part of the lie.
“I trust her…” he said, his voice firm, his gaze hard on hers. “…about this.”
The words landed—and so did what he left unsaid. She went still, a flicker of hurt crossing her face before she schooled it away.
“She’ll stay with me until we hear from you.” He motioned for her to stand. “Let’s go get the gun.”
Without a word, she nodded and climbed up the stairs ahead of him.
Before the door closed behind them, Brian’s voice carried up from the patio. “Do you trust her?”
Their uncle didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
A beat of silence was followed by, “You and your damn strays.”
