Chapter 19

Delilah's panic swelled after they dragged Samson away. She kept expecting him to break free, but then he was gone.

No, God, no. This can't happen. Do something. Show me you're here. You have to do something.

Then the fear faded, and her mind cleared. Her focus turned to Riley, who was sobbing, but Delilah felt nothing except a certainty to act.

"This was fun," Demir said. He chuckled as he listened to Samson's howling. "But we should get on with it. Sorry, Riley. This is how it has to be."

Riley screamed into Marc's hand that covered her mouth as she squirmed to get free.

Delilah stepped forward. "No."

"You stay where you are," Demir said. "I'll deal with you in a second. Unless you want to meet the same fate."

She shook her head slowly, but when Demir turned his attention back to Riley, she sprinted forward, knocking the gun from his hand as it fired.

She had no time to think as she jumped for the gun that had skidded across the floor.

Hands wrapped around her ankle and yanked, but she kicked out and heard a grunt before she scrambled toward the weapon, getting her hands on in.

She spun onto her back and lifted the gun, pointing it at Demir, who had his hand on his face. He pulled it away and looked at the blood there.

"You're going to pay for that." His cheek had split where the heel of her shoe had connected.

"Don't," Delilah said to Marc, who was pulling a gun from his pant leg. Her mind screamed at her about the impossibility of what had happened, but she pushed it aside. "Bring Samson back in here. Now."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Demir said.

"Why?"

"He's dead." He pointed to his ear. "Hear that?"

"I can't hear anything."

"Exactly. A second ago, we couldn't shut him up."

Samson's death was another thought she had to push aside. "Riley, come over here," she said as she stood. "If either of you moves, I'll shoot."

Riley huddled behind her, trembling. Delilah took one hand off the weapon and reached back to comfort her.

"Have you even fired a gun before?" Demir said with a smirk.

"Yes. A few years ago as a team-building exercise, we went to the firing range."

"That's it?"

"I can aim and fire. That's all I need to know." At the time, she'd thought it had been a pointless exercise, but now she was glad that the feel of the gun wasn't completely foreign in her hand.

She backed out the front door, pulling Riley with her. "We need to call the police," she said, fumbling for her phone.

When people started screaming, she took her attention away from the door but kept moving back. "We need help!" she yelled, looking for someone who wasn't panicking. "Please. Someone." She focused back on the door. "I need help!"

Riley was tucked in behind her, whimpering.

She tried to unlock her phone, but her hand was shaking so badly, she dropped it.

When she stooped down to pick it up, blue and red lights were flashing around her, and police officers had jumped out to surrounded her.

"Inside. Quickly," she yelled to them.

"Put the gun down," an officer said.

"No." Her voice barely got past her throat as he ordered her again. "Please. They'll get away."

"We can't do anything until you put the gun down."

Delilah nodded and lowered the weapon but kept her eyes on the door until they rushed her.

Riley shouted, "Leave her alone!" before she was pulled away.

Delilah laid still as they yanked her arms around her back and cuffed her. A pebble from the sidewalk pressed into her cheek, and she could see the shiny black boot of someone standing near her head.

She couldn't hear Riley anymore. That was good. That poor girl had been through enough because of her. The police would look after her now.

Two of the officers dragged her to her feet, and a fog settled on her mind as the knowledge of what had happened overwhelmed her.

Samson was dead. Marc had gotten away with the other guy. There was nothing left for her. She'd thought the worst that could happen was when she lost her business in San Diego, but she'd had no idea how much farther she could fall.

An officer positioned himself in front of her. He was asking her questions, but she couldn't make sense of what he was saying.

"Have you fired the weapon?" he said again, and she finally heard it.

"No, but…I can't remember his name. He fired it."

"You're sure?"

"He tried to kill Riley."

"Who's Riley?"

She turned to find her, but the officer took her by the shoulder and turned her back. "The girl," she said.

"The girl who was with you?"

"Yes. Is she okay?"

"She's with another officer."

"Was she hurt?"

"She's fine. Was anyone injured that you know of?"

She nodded. "Samson's dead."

"Who's Samson? Is he the one you said fired the gun?"

"No."

"Ma'am, I need you to focus. Did you shoot someone?"

She looked at the door to the restaurant. Another officer came out and spoke to the one questioning her. "There's no one in there."

Another car arrived, and a man in plain clothes approached. He spoke quietly to the Officer she'd been talking to, then he stepped up to her. "Ma'am, my name is Detective Hall. Can you tell me your name?"

"I—I don't..." There was too much noise and light around her. "I want to see Riley. I need to make sure she's okay." She tried to twist again, but Hall held her firmly.

"Ma'am, I need you to focus on me right now. Riley is safe. I need you to tell me if you shot someone. Is there someone injured in there?"

"I didn't shoot anyone."

"But you said someone is dead."

"Samson. They killed him. But it's my fault."

Hall looked at the officer closest. "Check again," he said and waited until the man went back inside before he looked back at Delilah. "Samson who?"

"What difference does it make? They're gone. You're too late." She squeezed her eyes closed. Her head spun, taking her stomach with it. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Why don't we sit down over here." He led her to a nearby police car and opened the back door so she could sit down. "I want you to know that I believe you."

"What?"

"I believe you that you didn't mean to hurt anyone. We've got a doctor coming down to talk to you."

"Why?"

"You're confused. We want to help you remember what happened."

"I'm not confused. Where's Riley?"

"I told you, she's safe."

"I didn't…" She took several deep breaths, trying to get her head together. No wonder they thought she was crazy. She was struggling to get her thoughts out, but they kept asking her questions that didn't matter.

"You didn't what?" Hall said.

There was someone she needed to speak to. Samson had mentioned someone. A contact he had. God, please help. Who was it? Who knows Samson? Who knows what's going on?

"Trevors!" she shouted when it popped into her head. "That's his name."

"You shot someone named Trevors?"

"No. I need to speak to Agent Trevors. He knows Samson. Knew—he knew Samson." All the details converged, and her mind cleared.

"You think this man named Trevor is with the FBI?"

"No, Trevors is his last name. I can't remember his first name. I don't know who he works for. But Marc Rubin's involved. You have to find my cousin Luca. He owns this restaurant. I believe his life is in danger. And they kidnapped Riley to get to Samson. They were going to kill her. Then they took Samson out the back and killed—" Her throat closed, and it was hard to breathe for a minute. "Please, you have to find Agent Trevors. He knows about this. And find Luca."

Hall took a deep breath. "Where would we find Luca?"

"He owns the restaurant. He's my cousin."

"You said that. Do you know where he is?"

"He's in the hospital with a gunshot wound."

"He was shot?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who shot him?"

"Yes, Marc Rubin."

"The man who was here?"

"Yes."

"Was there anyone with him?"

"Yeah, there were some guys who didn't say anything. They were like bodyguards or something. And there was another man. The one who was going to kill Riley. I don't remember his name, but it was foreign sounding."

An officer rushed out of the building and spoke into Hall's ear.

"What is it?" Delilah said. "Did you find something? Did you find Samson?"

"We found blood."

She sagged. "How much?"

"We're going to take you down to the station," Hall said.

"I kicked the foreign guy in the face. Do you think it could be his blood?"

"We can talk more at the station."

"You have to find Agent Trevors. I need to speak to him."

"We'll do what we can."

"Find Agent Trevors. He'll tell you everything."

"Let's go."

Samson couldn't make his legs work, and he couldn't see. They dragged him down a flight of stairs, then down a corridor. He knew because he could hear their movement echoing off close walls.

He didn't bother fighting. Whether it was because of the drugs or because he'd lost the will to live after they killed his daughter, it didn't matter. Life was worthless now. He would have given anything for her to still be alive. If he'd followed God instead of running from the pain, she might still be.

But it was too late. Realizing now that everything he'd built in his life was dust did nothing to ease his pain. All he could hope for was a quick death, but even that he didn't deserve.

He thought of Delilah, and another kind of ache rose in his chest. He'd let himself care for her and opened up the only vulnerable part of himself he had, and she'd used it against him. She'd lied to him and betrayed him.

He was yanked to a halt and forced onto his feet. He took his weight but wasn't confident his legs would hold until they pushed him forward and he tripped, his feet catching him as he fell. His shoulder slammed hard into a wall.

A door clanged shut, but he didn't move. He kept his shoulder pressed into the wall, trying to embrace the pain there, if only to ease the suffering in his heart. It worked for a minute, but then it dulled, and reality still stood starkly before him.

He shifted so his back was pressed against the wall, and he yanked the burlap sack off his head.

When blackness met him, he blinked and lifted his hand to his face, but there was nothing.

He felt along the wall, following it around until he found the frame of the door. He thumped his fist on it.

"What do you want from me!" He banged harder. "Why don't you just kill me!"

When he didn't get a response, he sank to the floor and crawled to the wall, resting his forehead against it, and wept, his mind falling into a black hole of grief.

Delilah squeezed her forehead and tried to pace her breathing. Hyperventilating wouldn't help her, and she wanted a clear head if she got the opportunity to speak to Agent Trevors, although she doubted they believed he even existed.

They'd left her alone in the interrogation room after she'd refused to speak to anyone but him, but she was pretty sure they thought she was crazy.

The door opened, and she didn't bother to look up.

"Delilah Rossi?"

"I haven't changed my mind. I already told you guys, I won't speak to anyone but Agent Trevors."

The man shut the door and walked to the table, sitting across from her. "Then you're in luck."

Her head shot up, and she recognized him as the man who'd sat with Samson at the restaurant. "They found you."

"I've been told you have information about Samson?"

She started crying and couldn't stop the tears. She didn't know if it was relief or something else. "I'm sorry," she said as she tried to calm herself. "I didn't think they believed me."

"They didn't. They were following up so they could tell you there was no Agent Trevors. Detective Hall apologized for wasting my time until I told him you were probably telling the truth."

She brushed the tears off her face and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Thank you for coming."

"It sounds like you've been through quite an ordeal. The detective told me you said they killed Samson."

"They did." She pressed her lips together to stop more tears.

"The detective also said you mentioned a man named Marc Rubin."

"Yeah. But he wasn't the one in charge."

"Do you know who was?"

"He was a man I've never seen before, but he knew Samson. He said his name, but I don't remember it."

Trevors pulled a photo from his briefcase and laid it in front of her. "Was this him?"

She lurched forward in her chair, grabbing the photo. "Yeah. That's him. You know who he is?"

"His name's Burak Demir."

"Yes. That's it. That's what he said."

"Samson was investigating him. Both he and Marc are involved in some pretty nasty stuff. Are you sure Samson's dead?"

"I didn't see it. They took him to the back. He was going crazy because Burak said he was going to kill Riley. Samson tried to stop him, but he was cuffed. That's why they took Riley, because they needed him to come of his own free will."

"Hold on. Slow down a second."

"Sorry, there's just so much that's happened."

"How'd they find out about Riley? Everyone thought she was dead. I didn't even know she survived the crash until today."

Delilah closed her eyes. "That was me. I told Marc."

Trevors' face didn't give anything away. He laid a file on the table and flipped through some pages, then spent a few minutes reading.

"Your cousin Luca is in the hospital with a gunshot wound. When the police interviewed him, he said the gun had misfired, and he shot himself. Is that what really happened?"

"No. Marc shot him to get me to talk. He said he'd kill him if I didn't."

"Did Samson tell you about Riley?"

"We'd been getting close. He trusted me with the most important thing to him, and I betrayed him."

"Sounds to me like you didn't have a choice."

"You think that matters? All it means is that I view some lives as more important than others."

"That's not what that means. You reacted in the moment out of fear. So Demir found out about Riley and used her to convince Samson to give himself up?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't see them kill him?"

"No. But he was going crazy when they dragged him out the back, and then it was quiet."

"That could mean a number of things."

"Why would Burak lie?"

"He would have his reasons." Trevors looked back at the file. "The police interviewed Riley."

"They think she's involved?"

"No. Just getting the details from her point of view. She's back with her grandmother now. She said you saved her."

"I couldn't let her die."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"I want to hear it from your point of view. Her recollection is spotty."

"I ran at Burak." She pointed at the photo. "Knocked the gun out of his hands, then picked it up. That's when I backed out of the building. When the police turned up, they thought I'd done something wrong."

"In the file it says you kicked Demir in the face."

"When I dove for the gun, he grabbed my leg, and I kicked."

Trevors nodded. "You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Probably. I guess I should be dead. But Riley's alive. That's all that matters."

"Well, until there's a body, I'm not going to rule out that Samson's still alive too." Trevors stood, folding the file closed. "I'm sorry you got caught up in the middle of this."

"It's my own fault."

"Actually it's not. Samson was on a case, and the men involved were willing to go to any lengths to stop him. None of this has anything to do with you. They used you as leverage."

"Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I will eventually believe it."

"I hope you do."

"Will you tell me if you find anything?"

"I'll do what I can, but the less you know right now, the better. You'll be released, but I'll post an agent with you and with your cousin just to make sure you're both safe."

"Do you think they'll come after us?"

"They could. Demir doesn't like loose ends."

"What about Riley?"

"We're protecting her and her family as well."

"If there's anything I can do, please let me know."

"There's nothing more you can do unless you remember a detail you haven't shared, but otherwise, go home and get some rest."

"If you find out that Samson's—you know—will you tell me?"

"I will."

"Thank you."

He nodded solemnly, then headed for the door.

"Wait," Delilah said.

"You thought of something?"

"Sort of. It's Marc."

"What about him?"

"If you want, I can help you get him."