Page 30 of Ice Cold Liar (Ice Breaker Cold Case #14)

Sebastian Glass. The name rang a very distant bell for Naomi.

“He was on death row,” Memphis continued blithely. “He liked to cut up his victims. Break them. You might know him better as Broken Glass. That’s what the press called him. Because by the time he was done carving up his victims, they looked like they were?—”

“You’ve painted enough of a visual, thanks,” Eb cut in tightly. “Don’t really like to talk about the bastard who tried to murder my sister, if you don’t mind.”

Her mouth dropped open. Broken Glass. Yes, yes, she knew the story. The guy had been a real-life monster. Movies were being made about him. And the thing was…

He’d recently died. A brutal end in prison. He’d been attacked in the prison yard. Beaten. Stabbed with a shiv by the other inmates.

Eb stalked closer to her but stopped when he seemed to catch himself.

“I like connecting dots,” Memphis suddenly admitted.

“Someone give the man a cookie.” Eb did not seem impressed.

Naomi’s stomach growled. Damn. She could go for a cookie. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

“Funny thing about you, Eb, is that you have some glaring holes in your past.” Memphis exhaled on a long sigh. “Big holes.”

She forgot about the cookie.

“Holes happen when you work for the government.” Eb didn’t seem concerned. “Sort of a need-to-know lifestyle that you live.”

“Right. But there is one hole in particular that I don’t think is related to that CIA life of yours.

After your sister’s attack, you seemed to vanish completely.

No trace of you at all. Obviously, you were working an undercover mission, but just where was that mission?

Some far distant country? Or…perhaps somewhere closer to home? ”

Eb stiffened. “It doesn’t matter. That particular mission wasn’t successful.”

What was happening? “Could you two stop talking in code? If you have something to say, spit it out.” They were giving her a headache. And Hunter wasn’t speaking. Just listening intently. Was he as clueless as she was?

Memphis waited a beat, then, “Let’s just say that I believe Eb has a long history of seeking vengeance. Going to extremes in order to get that vengeance. Maybe when I leave, he can tell you more about Glass. And what it’s like to spend months in a maximum-security lockup.”

Okay, her goosebumps got way, way worse. “Why would Eb know what maximum security is like?”

“Because I spent time there.” Eb’s voice held no emotion. “This isn’t relevant. Can you get back on track?”

Might not be relevant, but it certainly was terrifying. Eb had been in a maximum-security lockup? Why? “What did you do?” she breathed.

His eyes blazed. “Nothing.” Grim. “But sometimes, to stop a killer, you have to become one.”

Broken Glass had been killed in a prison riot. Stabbed with a shiv. And…Eb had been in prison.

“Did you kill him?” The question burst from her.

“No.” Hunter’s quiet response. So, yeah, he did know what was happening. Not so clueless. “Something that I think still pisses Eb off to this day. Eb really hates it when his prey gets away from him. Or, worse, when someone takes that prey away. All that time wasted…”

Her temples throbbed. “I don’t understand—what does this have to do with?—”

“Eb wasn’t around to hold Hudson in check,” Memphis told her. “During that period of time when Eb went dark, he had no contact with his partner. He couldn’t keep him controlled. You see, I think Eb did that, probably far more than he realized.”

A muscle jerked along Eb’s jaw.

“Eb vanished because he was taking care of some family vengeance. He was off the radar, couldn’t be contacted, and Hudson used that time to get close to you, Naomi.

As far as I can tell, Hudson had not allowed himself to get close to any woman, not since Mary Fontenot’s disappearance so long ago.

Sure, he had flings. Hookups. But nothing permanent. Not until he met you.”

She kept thinking that Mary was the key. “When you came to me on my wedding day, you told me that you believed he’d killed her.”

“Yes.”

“Do you still believe that?”

“I…can’t be sure.”

What in the hell? She had to pick her jaw up off the floor. “You were so certain before!”

“So were you. You were dead certain that Hudson was innocent that day.” He rose from the couch. A ripple of strength. “And because you were so certain, I dug more. Deeper. Families are a bitch, aren’t they?”

She wouldn’t really know. She’d lost her family a long time ago.

The intensity deepened in Memphis’s eyes. “Did you know that Hudson’s mother died when he was seven years old?”

She nodded. “Yes, she was attacked during a mugging.”

“Hudson’s father died during a mugging the year after Hudson started working for the CIA.”

Her heart shoved hard into her chest. “That’s tragic.”

“Sure. It’s also convenient.”

Losing your parents was convenient? Uh, no. It certainly hadn’t been for her. It had been life-altering. Heartbreaking.

“And when I dug more…” Memphis continued because she was coming to see that he only operated in one mode—relentless.

“When I dug more, I realized that maybe Hudson wasn’t guilty of the crimes in New Orleans that I’d tried to connect to him.

The evidence was there. But the evidence could also be framed another way.

Because…perhaps Mary wasn’t the first victim.

Maybe the first victim had actually been murdered a long time ago.

When our killer was still learning. Still honing his craft.

Maybe that first victim had been claimed all the way back when Hudson was just a kid.

If that was the case, then he wasn’t the killer I’d been after. He couldn’t be the killer.”

She shook her head. No, no, Memphis could not be saying?—

“Families,” Memphis murmured. “Like I said, I’m fascinated to see what traits are inherited and which ones aren’t.

All those genes, spinning around and around and around.

Where they’ll stop…well, who knows? Got a friend, Sloane, and she’s doing research specifically related to the children of serial killers.

Some kids, of course, are completely normal.

They’re horrified and embarrassed and so ashamed of what their parents have done.

But others…others have their own dark sides that they try to hide. ”

She couldn’t speak.

Hunter could. And he did. “You’re saying Hudson’s old man was the killer? You got it wrong? The father was the serial, not Hudson? Dude. You probably should have shared that sooner. Like, a lot sooner.”

“I’m saying…I got Mary’s death wrong.” Crisp. Annoyed. “Or rather, the identity of the man who abducted her. Mary’s body was never found. For that crime, I was looking at the son. I was focused on Hudson. I should have seen the father.”

Hudson didn’t kill Mary. Did he kill the others? Did he ? —

Nausea rose. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

She could feel the watchful weight of the men’s stares on her.

“You said you trusted him,” Memphis recalled. “You said he was a good man.”

Tears pricked her eyes. You had to trust the man you were going to marry, didn’t you?

“So I dug deeper. With Mary…I don’t think Hudson was to blame. With the vics in New Orleans who vanished shortly after Mary—I think they can also be tied to Hudson’s father. But he’s dead. Hudson’s father is dead. Hudson is dead. It’s doubtful we will ever learn anything for certain.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Her lips trembled. The words wanted to burst out of her.

Who will believe me?

No one.

No one believed a liar.

Henry rose from the cushy, dog bed. His ears tilted back.

“Naomi.” Eb was right in front of her. “Baby, look at me.”

She turned her head. Stared into his eyes. The topaz swirled. Burned.

“Talk to me,” he urged her.

But she couldn’t. He wanted to lock her up. To shove her into a cell. He’d fucked her as a means to get close. He didn’t really care about her.

“I believe Hudson knew what his father had done.” Not her words.

Memphis. Still talking. Still shattering her life one word at a time.

“He was in town when his father was stabbed and killed in the course of that mugging. A mugging with no witnesses. With a knife that plunged straight into the victim’s heart.

Such a fast, brutal kill. Almost like a professional hit, wouldn’t you say? ”

Eb wasn’t saying anything.

Neither was Hunter.

And Naomi didn’t dare speak.

“Eb…I’ve got to ask, just what sort of hits did your friend perform while he was in the CIA?” A pause from Memphis. “What kind of hits did you perform?”

Assassin. No, no, not possible. Eb?—

I played the hero.

A dull ringing filled her ears.

Henry padded closer toward her.

Eb grabbed her hands. “Naomi?”

She wanted to snatch them away from his grip. His touch sent that treacherous charge flooding through her veins. “I’m not having a seizure.” But she sure felt as if she was breaking apart on the inside. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You’ve lost every bit of color in your face. Your body is trembling. Your breathing is too shallow. I damn well am worried. I’m worried you’re about to faint on me.”

She tried to pull in a deep breath. “I’m not fainting.” She wouldn’t. Would not.

“Uh, so…” Hunter heaved to his feet. “We just discovered that—let me make sure I’m following along here okay—Naomi’s husband killed his own father because the dude was a serial killer. His dad had killed both Hudson’s mom and Hudson’s girlfriend?” A loud whistle.

Henry’s head jerked toward him, but Henry didn’t leave Naomi’s side.

Hunter nodded. “Yep, if you find out that your old man killed both your mom and your girlfriend, that would piss you off. Make you all kinds of homicidal. Add to that, Memphis pretty much suspects that it’s a whole like-father-like-son situation, so Hudson probably killed a number of people over the years.

Vics we can’t tie to him because he was one of the CIA’s assassins and they are covering their sins and burying them all deep in the ground.

Sure, why not? Check, check, insanity check. ”

“My friend Sloane thinks that some killers deliberately try to make their children become like them.” Memphis tilted his head to the side as he studied Naomi.

“They’ll do whatever it takes to grow the darkness inside their own family members.

Maybe that’s why his father attacked Mary all those years ago.

To turn on that darkness in his son. Or, hell, maybe he just coveted what his son possessed.

Some people get like that, you know. They want what someone else possesses, and they will do whatever it takes to acquire that possession. ”

“Fuck.” Eb’s seething voice. “ Fuck me. ”

She already had. She’d planned to do so again. Then she found out that he was hell-bent on destroying her. No more fucks, thanks.

You are such a liar. You want him right now. His touch is sending electricity pulsing through your veins. His touch was also—oddly enough—steadying her. Naomi no longer felt as if she would shatter apart at any moment.

“Your friend Sloane seems interesting,” Hunter allowed.

“Um.” Memphis sauntered closer. He’d shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “My wife was targeted by a serial killer.” Casual news. Like he was saying it was sunny outside.

He’d basically delivered everything in a casual tone.

Except there was nothing casual about the expression in his eyes. Fury smoldered.

“Serials are a different breed,” he stated without batting an eyelash.

“Most don’t seem to feel the normal range of emotions that everyone else does.

They are smart, diabolically so, and they can obsess in ways that most people will never understand.

They see something they want, and they take it.

They crave it. They will do whatever it takes in order to keep their possession. ”

The way he was looking at her…

Possession.

But she wasn’t a possession. She was a person.

She finally succeeded in yanking her hands from Eb’s. “What…happened to the serial killer who went after your wife?”

“I can obsess, too,” he revealed as his gaze continued to hold hers. “I can crave. I can also burn down the world if it means protecting the woman I love. There are no threats to my Eliza any longer. I’ve eliminated them all.”

Okay. Scary. Intense.

Memphis’s gaze finally left her. Only to then head straight to Eb. “Can you understand that? The necessary elimination of threats? With your job and your past, I would think so.”

“I get what you’re saying,” Eb snapped.

“Thought you might. Thought you also might really understand that we all need to do what’s necessary for survival.

Vengeance is never black and white.” A roll of Memphis’s shoulders.

“The Ice Breakers are not involved in the investigation of Hudson Wyatt’s death.

He’s not one of the cases we will ever be working to solve.

The dead can rest.” His stare swung back to Naomi.

“The song always said there was no rest for the wicked. I don’t happen to agree with that.

Sometimes, the wicked have earned their rest, too.

” Memphis dipped his head toward her. “Time for me to go. I’ve got a plane to catch.

My wife is waiting at home for me. I don’t like for my Eliza to ever wait.

” With that, Memphis swung on his heel and headed for the door.

“Yeah.” Hunter huffed out a breath. “I’ll just follow him out. Make sure there aren’t any other details that Captain Dramatic just forgot to drop on us.” He hurried after Memphis.

The wicked have earned their rest, too.

She was the Wicked Widow.

And, like so many others, Memphis Camden thought she was guilty as hell. He just didn’t particularly care because he believed her husband was scarier and more evil than the devil.

He was right about her husband. Hudson had been scary. Evil at his core.

But…

He was wrong about her.

“I didn’t kill Hudson.” Words she’d said over and over again, and no one had ever believed her. No one would believe her. She’d always carry the weight of everyone’s suspicion and the judgment would follow Naomi wherever she?—

“I believe you.”

Shock blasted through her at Eb’s low, deep words, and Naomi took a staggering step back.