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Remmi let out a little cry, and tears filled her eyes. “She’s alive,” she whispered. On the very night she’d found out for certain that her mother had been murdered, she’d learned that her sister had survived! “Is there mention of a son the same age?” she asked, dashing away the tears.
“Let’s see.” Noah’s fingers flew over the keyboard, as Emma said, “Yep. Kyle. Google him.”
Noah did, and several pictures appeared on his screen.
Staring at the lanky teenager with straw-blond hair and a surly expression, Remmi gasped, “He . . . he looks like Jensen when he was about that age.”
“They would be cousins,” Noah said.
“Looks like both Kayla and Kyle are in school at UNLV,” Emma said. “The Hedges family home is still in Las Vegas, too.”
“How did you get this information?” Remmi asked.
Neither Noah nor Emma responded, but the answer was self-evident: hacking.
“I want to meet them,” Remmi said, remembering the last time she’d seen her siblings. They’d been tiny infants, driven into the desert, unaware of the strange fate that would follow.
“We will,” Noah promised.
Remmi shook her head. “I mean I want to meet them ASAP. Like tonight. They’re either at UNLV or maybe at their home. Las Vegas isn’t that far away.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, glancing at the window, where rain drizzled down the glass. “We’ll get an early start.”
She wasn’t satisfied, felt an urgency from twenty years of not knowing. Now, she was close to not only finding the answers that had eluded her, but to meeting her siblings again.
“They may not want to see you,” he warned. “Or believe you. You’re going to upset their entire lives, change everything they know. The truth about Didi isn’t all that pretty.”
“I know, but I have to meet them,” she said. “They’re the key to what happened to my mother, to their mother.”
He thought about it a second, then inclined his head in agreement and turned to the computer screen. “Okay, we’ve got to go, Ems. Thanks for doing all the leg work.”
“Finger work,” she corrected, wiggling her fingertips in front of the screen. “You’re welcome and good night, er, morning.” After she clicked off, Noah reached over to the lamp on the side table, snapping it off. The living room settled into a semi-darkness, the glow of computer screens the only illumination.
“You need to go to bed,” he said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Long day.” He pulled her closer to him so that they were stretched out on the couch together, wedged on the narrow cushions.
“Don’t want to,” she argued, but she yawned, her head against his chest.
“It’s late.” His arms tightened around her. His body was warm; she heard his heart beating in his chest, and it felt so right, so safe to lie here.
“I will,” she said, closing her eyes, feeling her mind begin to wind down. “In a sec—”
“Take all the time you want,” he said and kissed the crown of her head.
“Okay,” she said, but she was already drifting off.
CHAPTER 33
The house was dark.
Quiet.
Even the glow of television or computer screens was no longer visible in any of the windows. Just Christmas lights winking in the early-morning hours, bulbs casting off a blurry gleam in the rain that continued to fall.
The Marksman, as Milo Gibbs thought of himself, watched the big house for another five minutes, but nothing stirred within.
Go time.
Silently cursing himself for leaving the night-vision glasses in the truck, he snapped on a fresh pair of surgical gloves, making certain they were tight enough that he could easily feel a trigger.
