Mine to Keep (Mine #2)(59)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“You’re wrong,” Trace said, his voice flat.

Piper flinched. “I wanted to help. I came all this way…to help…” Her shoulders sagged.

Skye’s eyes narrowed on her. “If you thought Trace killed your sister, why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Anna Jean died. Sh-she could barely remember what had happened to her. When she could talk, she told me that it was all white…snow and hell. A white hell, and that was all she could say.” Piper drew in a shuddering breath. “But she had Trace’s dog tags. She had them.”

“And now they’re in the city.” Trace tilted his head to the left. “Want to tell me how that happened? Who’d you give the dog tags to, Piper?”

Piper seemed to pale even more.

Trace lifted his head. “Who was it?”

Noah stalked toward them.

“Y-you know,” Piper whispered.

Skye frowned at her. Piper was shaking now. Trembling.

Piper glanced back at Drake. “I want to go. Please…please let me go…”

His fingers settled on her shoulder. “You had a partner at the pier,” Drake said. “Is that the guy who had the dog tags?”

“D-don’t…I’m afraid!” Piper cried out. Her stare slid toward Noah.

He’d halted a few feet from Piper. He stared at her, heavy suspicion on his face and in his eyes.

Skye’s gaze darted between them. Something just wasn’t right there.

“Who had the tags?” Trace demanded.

“The cop!” Piper screamed. Her hand came up and slapped over her mouth, as if she were horrified by the words she’d just said.

A cold chill slid down Skye’s spine.

“What cop?” Trace asked, only now, his voice was lethally soft.

Piper’s hands dropped to her sides. Her shoulders slumped, as if she were defeated, and she answered, “A detective came to see me in Atlanta. He found out about you and Anna Jean, and he told me that you were going to attack again. He said—he said we had to stop you.”

“Describe this cop.” The order came from Noah.

“E-early thirties. Blond hair. Dark eyes. Good-looking.”

Alex? Skye’s heart beat faster. “What was his name?” She asked.

Piper’s lips pressed together.

“His name,” Trace shouted.

Piper jerked. “He’s a police officer,” she whispered. “He wanted to help. He said that he’d investigated you. That he knew who you were, deep inside. He knew what you’d do.” Piper’s eyes gleamed as she cast a desperate glance toward Skye. “I just didn’t want you turning out like Anna Jean!”

Anna Jean. A woman long dead, but haunting them all.

“Alex Griffin,” Skye said softly, but…this feels wrong.

Piper’s head moved in the slightest of nods.

Trace’s face grew even harder. “You’re telling me that you gave my dog tags to Detective Griffin?”

“He said he needed them for the investigation—”

“One of those dog tags turned up at a murder scene,” Trace said, cutting across her words. “The dead man had been stabbed in the heart, and the knife wounds in his throat were so severe that he was nearly decapitated.”

Piper gasped.

“The cop?” Noah edged toward Trace. “Are you really thinking it’s him?”

A faint line had appeared between Trace’s brows. “He was downstairs at my building when we got the call about Sara. He couldn’t have killed her.”

“If he’d had help, he could’ve done it.” This flat response came from Drake.

“I’ll be damned.” Trace’s eyes widened as something seemed to click for him. Then he said, “The wounds were different. There were hesitation wounds on Sharpe’s neck and on Sara’s neck. Those wounds weren’t on Parker. I thought it was just easier for the killer to take out Parker but—”

“But it could’ve been two killers,” Skye finished, understanding what he meant.

Trace nodded curtly.

“No!” Piper’s high-pitched cry. “Cops protect people. They don’t—they don’t—”

“Give someone the right motivation,” Claire’s quiet voice was a direct contrast to Piper’s, “and they’ll do anything.” Her lips twisted in disgust. “I’ve seen plenty of cops turn away from the law. I’ve seen them do things that would give you nightmares—and they did ‘em just for a little money.”

But Skye had been so convinced that Alex was a good cop. “He wanted to help me,” she said. “He worked so hard to help.”

“And he wants me out of your life,” Trace told her. “Because he thinks I’m like the monster who killed his sister.”

Skye wasn’t so sure of that. Alex stuck to the law. He was a good guy, wasn’t he?

Trace’s phone rang then, startling her. Trace yanked it out of his pocket. “Look, Reese,” he said into the phone, “this isn’t a good time. I need to—What?”

Fear flashed across Trace’s face.

“Where the hell are you? Yeah, yeah, all right, listen to me, okay? Stay there. No, don’t try to face him yourself. This is personal. Stay there. I am on my way.” He ended the call and his stare immediately locked on Skye.

“What’s happening?” Noah’s body was as tense as Trace’s.

“Reese thinks someone tailed him back to his apartment.”

Skye’s breath caught. Not Reese.

Trace returned to Skye’s side. “If you want to hurt me,” Trace said, his voice a rasp, “you hurt the people close to me.” His fingers slid over her cheek. “You and Reese. You two are my family.”

She caught his hand. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, hell, no.” He gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “You might think Alex won’t hurt you, but I know otherwise.”

If they even were dealing with Alex. “Call him,” Skye said, the words flying from her. “Call Alex. Find out where he is.”

Trace dialed quickly. She barely breathed while she waited and—

“No answer, and I’m not wasting any more time—time that Reese may not have.”

She was really supposed to what? Wait there? He could just get pissed. She was going with him. “I’m coming.”

“Skye—”