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PROLOGUE
Gordon cleaned his guns, one after the other, as he streamed his favorite series on TV. It was a calming post-job ritual, even though he had not used them for today’s hit. Images of blood-soaked bodies from the multiple murder-suicide he’d staged that day appeared whenever he closed his eyes.
The show was a screwball romantic comedy. He’d found that the sillier stuff worked best for soothing his jagged nerves.
Occupational stress. It was a bitch, but he was coping.
Tonight’s evening news had buzzed with the shocking story of the famous Seattle cardiologist who had snapped under the strain of his job, murdered his beautiful wife and two young sons, and then ended his own life. Dreadful. Tragic. Almost jerked tears into Gordon’s own eyes.
Though the bank transfer of the second half of the kill fee would dry them very fast, he reflected. All in all, it had been a satisfying day.
The episode ended as the main actress tearfully confessed her secret pregnancy, and Gordon switched over to a local news channel. That was how he saw her. By pure, random chance.
A hot-cold rush of shock went through him. He had seen that perfect face only once. Magnified through the scope of a sniper rifle.
He would never forget those big, dreamy gray eyes. His heart thudded.
The program was a tedious feel-good piece about the revitalization project in historic downtown Endicott Falls. A perky commentator was interviewing his lost girl about her new bookstore café. Gordon picked up the phone, dialed. His fingers vibrated with excitement.
The man who answered the phone did not waste words. “Yes?”
“I found the girl,” Gordon said. “From the Midnight Project fuck-up.”
There was a startled pause. “You’re sure it’s her?” his sometime employer asked. “After fifteen years? She was just a teenager.”
Gordon didn’t bother to answer the insulting question. “Want to find out what she knows before I take her out?” His eyes explored the lush curves of his lost girl’s body. “I’ll interrogate her. No extra charge.”
The other man grunted. “Forget indulging yourself. It’s been years. Just end it. Get a police file started first. Some dirty letters, a dead pet, and when you finally do kill her, nobody’ll be surprised.”
Hah. Like he needed to be told how to do his job. Gordon hung up, still studying her face on the screen, smiling, talking. Just look at her. Fresh as a daisy—or so she seemed. He knew the truth. She was sly. Selfish. Look what she’d done to him; disappearing on him, eluding him for fifteen years, putting a massive dent in his professional reputation.
Anger rose inside him like a boil, ugly and inflamed. He reveled in its hot, burning itch. Gave himself up to it. Just look at that bad, bad girl. She’d been laughing at him, all that time. Thinking she’d made a fool of him. Thinking she’d won.
Self-satisfied bitch. She was about to discover how wrong she was.
He freeze-framed, and placed his finger against her throat on the screen. Traced the laughing curve of her scornful pink mouth, imagining its hot moisture. Electricity from the screen buzzed against his finger.
This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER1
He had this dream so often, it gave him déjà vu. His twin, Kevin, sat on the rock behind the house, looking as he had right before he died, twenty-one, sunburned, cutoffs, flip-flops. Dirt-blond hair he’d cropped himself with kitchen shears. A dimple carved deep into his face, like there was some big secret joke that Sean eternally failed to get.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Sean snarled. “Would it be asking too much for you to just cut out this shit and leave me alone? Go into the light, or wherever the fuck it is you need to go. Move on, already!”
I just want to help, Kev said mildly. You could use some help. You’re going down the drain, buddy. Swish, glug, bye-bye.
“You can’t help me!” Sean bellowed. “You aredead!And this bullshit is torture! It does not help me! It willneverhelp me!”
Kev was unperturbed by his rudeness.Stop freaking out.His ghost voice took on that irritating tone he’d always used when dealing with his more volatile twin.You’ve got to do something about Liv’s car. She’s—
“Forget about Liv! Stop torturing me! Leave me alone!”
Alone…alone…alone…The echo accompanied him into waking consciousness, where there was never any way to brace himself for it.
He had to sort it all out over again. Like it had just happened.
Yeah, it was another fucking day. Yeah, Kev was still dead. And yeah, Kev was going to keep on being dead. Forever.
