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PROLOGUE
I’dnever given the phraseDead Man Walkingmuch thought. Not until a few hours ago when I’d been faced with the ghost of my father. Only he hadn’t been a ghost. He’d been flesh and blood and bone—and he’d been breathing.
Only a few short hours ago, I realized I was happy for the first time in as long as I could remember—I had a careerI hadn’t planned on and wasn’t overly fond of, but it paid most of my bills. And I had a man who loved me despite my numerous flaws. I should have known it wouldn’t last. Anyone with the last name Graves was cursed from the cradle.
The memories of the afternoon run in with my father looped over and over in my mind.Jack had dropped me off at the house I’d grown up in—an old Victorian that backed up to the Potomac River. It was a house that brought nothing but bad memories—of a childhood filled with neglect, as well as the death of an old lover that had spattered the walls with crimson. The house was going on the market, and then it would be another family’s burden—an empty vessel to fill with their own memories.
I’d waved goodbye to Jack and had every intention of packing the last of my things.I’d barely had the door closed at my back when I realized I wasn’t alone. Fear overwhelmed me. I’d experienced it before and the memories of death were still too fresh in my mind.
The floorboards creaked as he came from one of the back rooms and I froze in terror.
“So you’ve decided to move in with Jack,” he said. “I wondered how long it would take the two of you to stop dancing and get down to business. I always did like that boy.”
I tripped over my feet and slammed back against the door. Mewling whimpers escaped from my throat as my sweaty hand fumbled for the doorknob. But then the familiarity of that voice caught up to my brain and my knees turned to jelly.
“What’s wrong, Jaye? Aren’t you going to say hello?”
“Dad?” My legs gave out completely and I slid to the floor.
He smiled like he hadn’t just destroyed my world and stuck his hands in the pockets of his khakis. All I could think was he looked good for a dead man—I’d know since I’d seen more than my fair share.
He was thinner than the last time I’d seen him, the lines in his face a little deeper.He skimmed just under six feet and his hair was thick and the color of a deer pelt. His eyes were hazel and he still wore the same tortoise shell glasses he always had. He looked more like a college professor than a mortician or a criminal, but that was probably the point. My dad could be accused of being a lot of things but an idiot wasn’t one of them. He knew how to blend—how to fade into the background. Which was one of the reasons I’d never bought that he and my mom drove over the cliff on purpose during a fight. It was too big of a splash. If they were going to commit double suicide they would’ve popped a couple of cyanide pills in the privacy of their own home.
I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts back together, and I realized he was speaking to me.
He sighed and squatted down beside me. I tried to crawl backwards, but the wood was solid at my back. “You always did like to overdramatize things. Emotions only get in the way of the important things in life. We taught you to keep a clear head, no matter what the circumstance.”
“Some things can be taught. Others are passed through the blood.” I met his gaze with all the anger I’d been holding inside since I’d found out I hadn’t really been theirs. “I guess you failed on both accounts there.”
His surprise at my knowledge was quickly masked. “You’ve always been ours. We loved you the same. The how you came to be here is just all in the details.”
I knew the signs of shock. I was a doctor, for God’s sake. My pulse was rapid and my skin cold and clammy with sweat. My pulse raced and I knew if I looked in the mirror my eyes would be dilated to the point that only a thin ring of gray would be showing.
“Since you know about your birth, I’m going to assume you found the boxes of papers in the bunker. The body was still there the last time I checked, so I know it wasn’t the FBI. I need those boxes, Jericho.”
A sound I didn’t recognize escaped my mouthand tears I couldn’t control dripped down my cheeks and onto my shirt. My father was the only person who ever used my real name, but even then it was only when I was in trouble. There were only a handful of people who even knew what my name was because I loathed it with a flaming hot passion. It didn’t bode well that he was using it now.
His hand came up and I stopped breathing when his finger trailed down my cheek, following the path of my tears. I knew what it was like to have the air cut off, so oxygen couldn’t reach the lungs no matter how hard you tried or struggled. I knew what it was like to gasp and claw your way toward death. I’d been there. And feeling the touch of a dead man, which proved he wasn’t really dead after all, brought an onslaught of memories I’d tried hard to forget over the last months.
Breathe, Jaye.I had to remind myself to suck in oxygen, just like I had after I’d been attacked by Jeremy Mooney—a sociopath who’d taken three other lives before he’d decided to add me to his collection. I felt the airway of my throat open and I sucked in a gulping breath.
My dad took my chin between his thumb and forefingerand turned my head so I had no choice but to look straight at him. “I’ve been through the house from top to bottom and the boxes aren’t here. You haven’t stepped foot inside for months, so it’s been a good place for me to lay low.”
“I ccc—couldn’t—”
I wanted to scream. To tell him how much I hated the house and everything it represented. All the lies. And I hated the fact that this had been the place I’d almost died—only a dozen or so feet from where I sat now.
“I know what happened here.” He didn’t explain how or why he knew. “It’s best you haven’t been around. The Feds still have the house under surveillance. They were never really looking at you anyway.”
I jerked at that bit of knowledge. I hadn’t noticed anyone hanging around, federal or otherwise, for almost a year. It made me wonder if Jack knew. There wasn’t much that got by him.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I croaked out. I’d been an emergency room doctor at Augusta General when my parents had taken that drive over the cliff. I’d been questioned by the FBI for weeks and they’d dogged my every step. If I hadn’t quit my job when I had I probably would’ve been fired. “Wh—who is the body?”
He looked at his watch and then back at me, his gaze determined and a little bit sorry. “A mistake. Now tell me where the boxes are. I’m assuming either with Jack or at the funeral home. I haven’t been able to search either location and time is running out.”
We both heard it at the same time. The sound of tires on the graveled road coming to a stop. My dad sighed and quirked the corner of his mouth in a smile. “I guess we’ll have to do this later. We’ll talk again soon.”
I watched as he walked down the darkened hallway and disappeared right in front of my eyes. I’d almost convinced myself that I’d been hallucinating—that the horrible memories of thehouse had somehow manifested into my own reality. But then I looked down at my hand and realized I held a circle of silver, the outside of the wide band engraved with a complicated design.
