Chapter 11 #2
A long list of alcohol-related offenses and shoplifting, liquor—all minor stuff.
Until shoplifting had turned into breaking-and-entering and burglary.
Sheila Johanson should be doing time, but she’d managed to weasel out because the Feds wanted DeLuca and used that to their advantage by leaning on her daughter.
Were Samantha and Isabella better off because of it?
In his opinion, yes—they were safer now.
The Marshals knew what they were doing. Witnesses who followed all the rules had a one-hundred-percent success rate in relocation.
So far, it looked like Samantha and her sister had done exactly that.
Neither had social media, and a review of their IP activity showed nothing unusual or concerning.
Sheila Johanson really wasn’t a good mother. No wonder Samantha had insisted Isabella join her in WITSEC. There was no one else to care for her. The arrests dated back to Samantha’s own childhood. Looked like he wasn’t the only one who’d grown up rough.
But that was the only thing that was common.
She’d been neglected. He’d been beaten. Which was worse?
They both had physical and mental effects.
The guilt from that one lie as a teen had rooted deep, shaping every decision since—discipline, control, the need to make things right—all of it born from what he’d let happen to Kayleigh.
Luckily, Sam was like him and put her past behind her, moved forward to better things.
Unlike his sister, who’d been in and out of juvie until she turned eighteen and was now in prison.
Sophia’s birth had put her on a better path for a long time. But then she was back to old habits. While she hadn’t directly been involved with her boyfriend’s criminal dealings, the law didn’t care if the drugs were actually hers. It just cared that they’d been found in her possession.
His cell phone screen lit up, pulling him from his thoughts. The phone vibrated against his desk as it started to ring. Renegade Coroner.
He slid the answer icon. “Roberts.”
“Deputy Marshal Roberts, this is Dr. Falleur at the coroner’s office. I’ve got an identification on the burnt body.”
Liam grabbed a sticky note and an ink pen. “Great. Who is it?”
“The man’s name is Dr. Cameron Torres.”
Liam couldn’t say he was shocked. Now that they had a positive identification, they’d have to figure out how Samantha’s landlord had ended up dead in her house and why. He prayed the cases weren’t related to her past in a way that compromised her security.
“Thanks. What about COD?”
“I haven’t completed the report yet. There is a single gunshot wound to the head. Appears to be an execution-style murder, probably with the fire to destroy evidence.”
Liam’s stomach sank. The Mob was notorious for its execution hits. However, there was still no proof that this was related to Samantha and Isabella’s past.
He’d need to talk to Howard about Dr. Torres.
“Anything else you can tell about the body?” Was this a simple execution, or had there been torture before?
“The burns are extensive, but I didn’t see any other indication of physical trauma in the X-rays. No broken bones or stab wounds.”
That ruled out torture. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it if you forwarded me a copy of the report once it’s complete.”
“Of course.” The forensic pathologist hung up.
He found Glover’s number in his cell phone and hit Call.
She answered on the third ring.
“Are you busy?” He had to ask, even if she was doing surveillance on another fugitive believed to be in the area.
“Just staring out the window, waiting for our guy to show his face.”
“I’ve got some bad news for you.” He tapped his fingers on the desk.
“Of course you do. I knew this couldn’t be a social call.” She sighed.
“Your witness, Dr. Cameron Torres, has been found.”
“He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Unfortunately, yeah. He’s the body in my witnesses’ house.”
“Oh. Wow.” She whistled. “Okay. I’ll start making the calls.”
“What can you tell me about Dr. Torres?”
Yes, he had access to the files, but there were things that didn’t make it into the notes. Thoughts and gut feelings he’d need from her to build a complete picture.
“Not your run-of-the-mill white-collar criminal, which was why he hadn’t gotten a deal yet. The US Attorney knew he was holding back about this shadow syndicate that some people think is operating in town.”
First Liam had heard of it. “You don’t think there is one?”
“I want evidence.”
“And that’s what Torres should’ve given?”
“Assuming he had any. He initially decided to roll on everyone, but then wouldn’t give up what he knew.
Except to say that the syndicate was using his medical research to create a recreational drug, or the formula for it, and that it’s started hitting the streets.
But he’d also run up gambling debts and then dabbled in some real estate schemes to pay off his creditors.
Unfortunately, the guys he got tangled up with were high-level and connected. ”
Liam grimaced. “They got to him before he could testify.”
“Sounds like it.” She sighed. “Howard isn’t going to like this.”
“I’m going to go check in with Ms. Williams and see what I can get from her. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” He disconnected the call and started looking through the file on Dr. Torres.
His screen lit again. This time it was the number he had saved for when his sister called.
He slid the Answer button and listened to the mechanical speech that always played before talking to an inmate.
“Liam.” His sister sounded tired.
“Hello, Kayleigh.”
“I know you’re probably working, but I just had this…feeling. I needed to check on you. Everything going okay?” Her tone was lighter than it used to be, but he could hear the weariness behind it.
Mother’s intuition.
“Things have been better.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Oh no. Is Sophia okay?”
“She’s fine. She got into some trouble at school, and she snuck out the other day while I was at work.”
Kayleigh chuckled. “Ah, the teenage years. I remember thinking I knew everything back then. Guess I didn’t turn out to be the best example.”
She wasn’t the only one. They’d grown up fighting their own battles—just in different ways. Far from what was portrayed in television and movies, and not worth reminiscing on.
She sighed. “What exactly has she done?”
Liam gave her the rundown of the last few days, his own failures weighing him down. He’d failed Kayleigh.
“I wish I was there.” She sighed.
She wasn’t the only one. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, not a hormonal teenager. “Maybe you can call her tonight and talk to her?”
“I will. Enough about Sophia. How are you holding up?”
“We got moved in and settled in the house, and the job transfer went off without issue. I did have to help with a fugitive apprehension on my first day, but since then, it’s been court and my other duties.” He picked up a pencil and started tapping it on his desk.
“That’s good, but how are you?”
“Kayleigh, I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to admit you’re not fine. Your life has been turned upside down because of me. You’re suddenly a parent, thrust into raising a teenager. You didn’t even get the fun parts.”
“I was there for some of the fun parts,” he countered. He’d made sure to see his sister and niece several times a year.
“It’s not the same.” A sigh came over the line.
The phone beeped, and a mechanical voice advised she only had five more minutes on her card.
“I’ll get you some more minutes.” It was the least he could do.
“Thanks. Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.” He meant it. He would do anything for her.
“I’ve been going to Bible study,” she said after a beat, almost shyly. “Trying to figure this whole faith thing out. For the first time in a long time, I’ve got a little peace. Took me coming to prison to find it.”
Liam’s gut tightened. He was glad that she had found Jesus, even if it was behind bars. “I’m proud of you, sis.”
“I know I’ve asked a lot in the past several months.”
“Kayleigh, I’d give my life for you. You know that.”
She took a deep breath. “Please forgive me,” she said quietly. “For being an idiot. For thinking I was untouchable. I know what my choices did—to you, to Sophia. I can’t fix it from here, but I can start trying.”
Emotion clogged his throat. “Kayleigh, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. If I had just taken the blame for wrecking Dad’s car…maybe your life would’ve gone differently.”
She let out a short laugh. “What?”
“You took the fall. That was the start of everything. If I’d let him take it out on me—”
“Liam!” Her voice cut sharp. “Don’t you dare blame yourself. I was already heading down the wrong path long before that night. You didn’t break me. Life did. Choices did. But not you.”
He swallowed hard.
“I’m grateful,” she said. “For everything you’ve done—for me and Sophia. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“I won’t,” he whispered, even though the guilt still pressed in.
“I don’t blame you for anything, and you shouldn’t blame yourself either. Love you, little bro.”
“Love you too.” He disconnected the call and took a few minutes to add money to her commissary card, then set the phone down, Kayleigh’s words still burning in his ears. Don’t you dare blame yourself.
Easier said than done.