“He’s deadly,” Stone said softly. “But he is absolutely necessary. So for as long as Evan desires it, Mr. Davies remains as untouchable as he is.”
“No one is above the law.”
“Dead men are, Agent Nolan.”
Stone hung up, the line cutting out in Nolan’s earpiece. Nolan continued to stare at the sushi house. Finally, he pulled out his phone, and thumbed through the personal pictures he’d taken of the murder scene, scrolling until he found one of Hathaway’s face.
There’d been so much blood at the scene he hadn’t noticed at the time, but it was there when you knew to look for it.
Blood tracks, down her cheeks, like tears.
Jamey parked her Charger by a small cove a few miles south of the city of Everett. The stacks of the abandoned pulp mill could be seen jutting above the dense tree line.
The property was protected by a metal fence topped with barbed wire and mottled with rust, but the chain and padlock securing the gate were shiny and rust-free. And beyond the gate, the muddy drive had fresh tire tracks.
She grabbed the padlock and, with one hard tug, snapped the chain. Not hiding her strength and other tricks was one nice perk to working alone.
She slipped through the gate and moved silently through the trees, following the drive until she came to the shell of the mill: tall silos standing along the water’s edge, empty pipes crisscrossing between buildings, and a rickety boat ramp disappearing out into the cove. She listened intently with every step, but she heard nothing beyond the distant rumble of traffic on I-5 and the soft and endless rain dripping on the trees.
The sulfur smell of the chemicals used to treat the wood pulp still lingered beneath the scents of ocean air and wet cedar. But as she approached an old storage building, a new, sharp smell cut through the other scents: bleach.
The storage building’s door wasn’t locked. She listened for a long moment and then quietly nudged it open, gun at the ready.
But her ears hadn’t missed anything; there was no one here either. She glanced around the open space and her brow furrowed. Two metal gurneys were shoved up against one wall, the kind sturdy enough to transport handcuffed prisoners to the hospital.
She approached the gurneys, where the bleach smell was strongest—and beneath it, now, the lingering copper of blood.
She lowered her gun, swallowing hard.
What the hell had happened here?
“You ordered steak in front of an empath?” Reece said, as Ohayashi dropped off the food and left them to their meal. “Is it even cooked or did you order it the way it’s practically still mooing?”
“Rare, and yes, I did.” Grayson sliced through said steak with ease. “I can be a target or you can talk to me, whichever gets the feelings out.”
If Reece were being fair, he’d acknowledge everything else Grayson had ordered was vegan. Butfairwas for rational, stable people, and Reece had long ago given up hope of ever being one of those. He swiped another sea-salted edamame pod, sucking the soybeans into his mouth. “I’ve been on or well over the edge of a nervous breakdown all day,” he said. “Most people would be mocking me.”
“They shouldn’t,” Grayson said simply. “The world would be a better place with more compassion.”
“You sound like Jamey.”
“I’ve met your sister. That’s a compliment.”
Reece let out a grudging huff. “And on what planet would I share my feelings with the Dead Man?”
“You’re an empath getting dragged on a homicide investigation. I’m aware what it must be costing you.”
Empathy from Grayson was going to undo Reece completely. He grabbed another edamame pod, like his hands weren’t as shaky as his grip on his emotions. “And what is itcostin’me?”
“Nothing hurts you as deep as someone else’s pain,” Grayson said, “and you’re drowning in it today.”
Jesus. A day with the Dead Man and Reece still wasn’t ready to be seen through like this. He dropped the pod on his plate, jaw clenched too tight to eat. “I don’t get to use that as an excuse. I’m not the one suffering—”
“But you’re empathizing.” Grayson shrugged. “Maybe humans aren’t meant to hurt each other the way we do, and maybe that’s why some hearts are too soft to stand it. Maybe there’s nothing wrong with you for caring about other people’s pain, and there’s something wrong with everyone who doesn’t.”
Reece bit his lip.
“But if you keep taking in the city’s anger and fear, you’re gonna break,” said Grayson. “So let me take some of it off your shoulders, Reece, because you can’t hurt a dead man.”
