Page 4 of Ultimate Justice

Blue held up his paw.

The boy continued hugging the wall, trembling, but his eyes were riveted to Blue’s paw.

“You can shake his paw, if you want. Then we’ll get you out of here. Sound good?”

Green eyes widened as he looked up the stairs. “He could come back.”

Evan noted the two needle marks in the boy’s arm. “Not while we’re here, he won’t.” Out of the kid’s sight, he fisted a hand. If “he” showed up, Evan would slam the asshole face-first on the floor and cuff him.

Heavy boots pounded down the stairs. “Hey, there.” Deck smiled tightly, holding a plastic water bottle in a death grip. Finding a child under these circumstances could affect even the hardest, toughest of men.

“This is my friend, Deck,” Evan said, knowing how scared the kid must be. “What’s your name?”

He swallowed. “Noah.”

“What’s your last name, Noah?” There had to be a family searching for him.

“Lund.”

More pounding down the stairs. “Ambulance ETA in five.” Brett handed Evan a blanket, then went back upstairs.

“Would you like to put this around you?” He held out the blanket, praying the monster who’d drugged Noah hadn’t gotten around to hurting him. Not wanting to frighten the kid, Evan clamped his teeth—hard—to keep from venting his rage. Anyone who would do this to a child didn’t deserve to breathe.

“How about I give you a lift out of here?” He held out his arms to the boy.

Noah’s forehead creased, and he shook his head. “I’m not a little girl. I don’t want to be carried.”

Evan smiled. The drugs must have been wearing off. “Okay.” He turned around, presenting his back to the boy. “Then hop on.”

Hesitantly, Noah attached himself to Evan, piggy-back style.

“Uh, Evan?” From where he now stood on the other side of the basement, Deck motioned to the table with the computer. “You need to see this.” He pointed to the sheets of paper beside the computer and the photos tacked to the wall.

With Noah clinging to his back, Evan went to the table. The scenario he’d conjured up in his brain took an even uglier turn. Bile burned the back of his throat.

The sheets and photos were all images of children—boys and girls ranging from about ten to fourteen years old. “Take some shots of all this.” Whatever was going on here, he’d get a warrant and turn the entire house upside down and hunt down the owner.

Hearing the ambulance siren outside, he turned to leave but stopped. His mouth went drier than a desert.

No. No way. Can’t be. But it was.

One of the photos tacked to the wall—an old Polaroid—was of a young girl.

Evan’s heart thumped louder, faster, pounding in his ears like a hailstorm of bullets peppering a metal roof.

He knew the girl.

Hers was a face that had haunted him for twenty-four years and still did. Since the day she’d disappeared. She’d been twelve.

Gracie. Grace McGarry.

His twin sister.

Chapter Two

Marlie peeked inside Noah’s room. Dark circles hung like half-moons beneath his closed eyes. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound on the vinyl floor. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she emptied the trash bin beside the bed. The boy had been through so much, and it wasn’t over yet.

A patient’s medical history was kept strictly confidential from the hospital gossip grapevine, but she’d been talking with Noah for the past two nights and learned the FBI had found him locked in the basement of a house. Some animal had kept him drugged. Luckily, there’d been no other physical injuries or signs of abuse.