CHAPTER 64

EVAN PINE

BEFORE

Evan was a pile of deadweight strewn across the table. He could feel water on his arm, dripping on his leg, but he couldn’t move. He felt the wood from the tabletop on his cheek and watched in anger, in rage, as the man fiddled with his computer, his phone. Like he was running a program to wipe them clean. It was him, the man he and Maggie had tracked to the house. Evan tried to follow the man with his eyes, but even they wouldn’t move. The man bent down, out of Evan’s field of view.

When he rose, Liv was flung over his shoulder.

What are you doing? Let her go! The words were trapped inside him.

The man slowly lowered Liv to the couch, which was directly in Evan’s line of sight. The man folded her hands, which were limp. Lifeless.

No. No!

The man grabbed a book on the end table and positioned it on her chest.

Evan needed to find the strength, the will, to overcome whatever drug, whatever poison he’d ingested. He felt dampness on his legs. Then he understood. The water bottles. The man had drugged them all. He remembered Tommy’s sudden fatigue, Liv collapsing. His own blackout. His arm was spread out in front of him. He saw his fingers move. He realized that if he concentrated, put every bit of thought into it, he could move his hand. But he also knew he was fading fast. A pen was near his right hand. He watched his hand twitch. He needed to focus. His brain told his hand to grab the pen. He closed his eyes, visualized it. When he opened them, the pen was in his grasp.

The man was gathering the file Detective Sampson’s wife had given Liv. He put the file and water bottles in a trash bag. He wore latex gloves.

Evan’s vision blurred.

The man disappeared down the hallway, then returned.

Evan felt a wave of remorse. A wave of panic. A wave of consciousness fading.

He felt a poke on his shoulder. Evan’s body had no reaction, no reflexes. He was hoisted over the man’s shoulder.

Staring at the floor, the blood rushing to his head, he could see his dangling arm, the pen still clasped in his hand. Everything was far away, and for a surreal moment he wondered if the whole scene was a terrible nightmare.

Evan was feeling the pull of darkness. The world was a Pink Floyd video. He focused every cell in his brain on his right hand.

Then he told his body to do it, use every remaining muscle under his control. And he stabbed the pen into the man’s side. He heard a yell—“goddammit”—and the man dropped Evan to the floor.