Chapter Twenty-Two

Seven

He closed the door to his home once he and Fisher were inside, tossing his keys to the side table before shrugging off his coat and hanging it on one of the hooks near the door.

“This is nice,” Fisher said, glancing around curiously.

“Who are you?” Ice stood frozen in the hallway when Fisher stepped up beside Seven looking like a fucking jungle cat by the way he moved.

The two men sized each other up.

“This is Fisher, he’s one of the good guys. Fisher, this is Ice.” Seven tried to smooth over the distrust and hesitation he saw in Ice’s eyes. Fisher, though, was openly looking over Ice’s blond good looks.

“Fish,” Fisher corrected, and Seven nodded.

“Where’s Josh?” Seven asked.

“In his room.”

“I’ll be right back,” Seven told Fisher and pulled his Glock from his shoulder holster and set it on the kitchen table before heading down the hall to the spare room.

“There’s coffee,” Ice said.

“Sounds good,” Fish returned.

At least they weren’t trying to kill each other.

Seven pushed open the door to find Joshua tucked beneath the covers, watching a movie on a Kindle Fire. The boy’s eyes brightened and he paused the movie and sat up. Seven approached, sat on the edge of the bed, and brushed the damp hair from Joshua’s forehead.

“You take a shower?” Seven asked.

“Yeah.”

The boy wore a pair of pajamas that were miles too big.

“Where’d you get these?” He fingered the material on the sleeve.

“Ice got them.” Joshua let out a breath like he’d been holding it. Had his brother thought he’d be mad at the situation? Hurt squeezed Seven’s chest; fuck, he wanted so many things for Joshua and fear wasn’t one of them.

“Can you talk to me about this guy?”

“Yeah, of course.” Joshua sat up and swallowed hard. “I met Lark at Dad’s job once. It was when I went with Mom to pick Dad up.”

“Was Lisa with you?”

Joshua closed his eyes and nodded. His lids slowly lifted. When the tears trailed down Joshua’s cheeks, Seven tugged his brother into a hug. After a few moments, Joshua pulled back, sniffled, and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“You told Ice that you and Lisa hung out there. How’d that happen?”

“No, we didn’t hang. It was only one time when we were walking home from school in the rain and he’d offered us a ride. I remembered him from Dad’s job.” Joshua’s voice wobbled and Seven gripped his brother’s shoulder with a gentle hand.

“It’s okay, take a deep breath and continue when you’re ready,” Seven murmured, and Joshua nodded his head, took another breath, and continued.

“We’d stopped at his place, but it was only for a few minutes. I didn’t even think to tell the cops because I’d only seen him those two times!”

It only took a pervert once to scope out their next target. Once the fucker got a look at Lisa, he had probably planned it from there.

“Breathe,” Seven said, taking a hold of both of Joshua’s shoulders.

“Why did you go there?”

“I didn’t. He saw me waiting outside of school and offered me a ride again. We stopped at his place. I’m so stupid. I wondered why he kept asking me if there were any leads on Lisa’s killer. This is my fault!”

“No, it’s not.”

This was their deadbeat fucking father’s fault and Carla’s fault. If Carla had been any kind of parent, she would have had her fucking ass in the car—one Seven paid for—and would have picked both Lisa and Joshua up from school. But she would rather watch her soaps and drink her dinner than take care of her kids.

Ultimately, it was the fault of a fucking perverted murderer.

“It is,” Joshua choked out through tears.

“No.” Seven pulled Joshua into his arms and squeezed his brother tight at the thought of Joshua in the house of a possible killer. “This is not your fault. Don’t ever think that again.”

“Then whose is it!” His brother pulled sharply away. Seven wanted to shout that it was the fault of the sick fuck who did it and even their parents’ fault for not watching Lisa, but he said none of that. Joshua didn’t need that worry on his plate.

“Not yours.”

Seven wanted to crush Uncle Lark with his bare hands, but he had to be sure. What if the murderer was someone Lark knew, or even a family member and the guy was just paranoid?

Killing Lark without all the facts could be a mistake.

“What are you going to do?” Joshua’s voice wobbled.

“I’m going to investigate this guy. Where did you sit in the man’s house and what did you touch?”

“I sat on the couch and he handed me a glass of water, but I didn’t touch anything.”

“Nothing? Not even to use the bathroom?”

“No, just the couch and the water glass. I didn’t even touch the door coming inside,” Joshua responded.

“Did you drink the water?”

“No, that’s when you called, so I put the glass on the coffee table.” His brother’s eyes were filled with curiosity, but Seven only nodded encouragingly.

“Do you know his last name?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t think to ask.” Joshua’s mouth pulled down and Seven hated the sadness in his brother’s eyes.

“It’s okay, I’ll find out. And you are going to need to stay here with the alarm set.”

Joshua looked affronted. “I am seventeen, you know. I can stay alone.”

Seven smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “I know. Sorry. Now watch your movie while Ice and I look into this guy.”

It shouldn’t be hard to find him. After all, the fucker worked at the same company as their dad.

Leaving his brother’s door slightly ajar, Seven made his way down the hallway and into his wide kitchen.

Fisher and Ice were sitting at the counter, and both were looking at Ice’s laptop screen. Fish glanced up when he entered.

“What did you find out?” Seven asked.

“Former oil worker, divorced, lives alone, has a sister who lives about a mile away.” Ice tapped a key and slanted a look at Fisher.

Fisher picked up from there. “William Lark was arrested ten years ago for lewd behavior in front of a child—did seven months upstate and got out. In 2010, he was suspected of rape, but with no physical evidence. The child couldn’t describe her attacker and the charges were dismissed. I suspect he kept going with rape but started killing to save himself some grief. He dropped off the radar about two years ago and resurfaced at the oil rigs, where he worked until six months ago.”

“Does he have a job?” Seven said.

“Nope, he collects disability,” Fisher said.

“Who are you getting the information from?”

“Jordan.”

Okay, that made sense. Jordan was trustworthy.

“Make sure he wipes it clean,” Seven said.

Fisher pulled out his phone and sent a text.

Seven lifted his Glock from the table and checked the clip before shoving it into his holster.

He found both Ice and Fisher watching him.

“Coming?” Seven didn’t wait for a response, spinning toward the door.

“Fuck yes, I’m coming,” Ice snapped.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Fisher followed up.

Seven set the alarm and they headed down the walk. In the driver’s seat, he squeezed the steering wheel.

“Going to inform the detectives on the case?” Ice asked.

Seven sliced a burning gaze at Ice before starting the SUV.

“I think that’s a no,” Fisher murmured from the back seat.

Goddamned right that was a fucking no.

He wanted the truth and if the cops were involved, the guy would lawyer up.

He had no time for that shit. He had to get back to Hunter.