Page 83 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

I was right on his heels because he was likely right.

A woman screamed angrily on the other side of the door. “LET ME OUT!”

“Ma’am?” Marc put a hand to the wood. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

A pause, then a broken sob. “Yes. Yes, I can hear you. Who are you?”

“I’m Special Agent Marc Gonzalez, FBI. Are you Tylesia Evans?”

“I AM! Oh my god, you finally found me!”

“We sure did. Hang tight, we’re going to get you out of there.”

I punched a fist into the air, so excited I couldn’t contain myself. We’d all been right. She was alive! Man, there was going to be one hell of a party when I got her home again. I could see it now.

Marc looked around, casting about for something, then groaned. “I’ll have to go back to the car. There’s nothing here to break the door open.”

Well, he was right about that.

Marc turned to hightail it, but I suddenly realized he hadn’t really looked at the lock. The deadbolt faced our direction, likeone on a house door would. It kept her in, but it didn’t keep us out.

“Wait, wait, Marc. I think we can just unlock it.”

“Eh?” He turned back, looked it over, then sighed. “I’m an idiot. Jon, do the honors?”

“With pleasure.”

I turned the deadbolt and opened the door, flinging it wide open.

There, in all her survivor’s glory, stood Tylesia Evans. I’d seen many a picture of her, and truthfully, she looked a bit rough. Her hair had grown long enough to become a knotted mess, clearly missing all the hair care routines of the modern world. She looked thinner, too, and she hadn’t had much weight to lose to begin with. Stress and trauma? I certainly couldn’t eat when stressed out. I saw no signs of abuse in her lines, except some malnutrition, which relieved me. Her emotions were running hot and wild. The need for revenge, for freedom, pulsed so strongly I could have seen it from space. I didn’t blame her, either; I’d feel the same in her shoes.

She was alive. The rest of it was just details.

“Tye”—I addressed her as her family did—“I’m Jon. A psychic your brother hired to clear his name and find you. Come with me, please. We’ll get you to safety and let you call home.”

She sucked in a deep breath before nodding vigorously. “Yes. Please. And tell me you’re going to catch that bastard soon.”

“Our partners are already in pursuit,” Marc assured her. “Backup is on the way. This way, please.”

She came readily. I was sure she was sick to death of being in this place. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, being a clinic, but the room was only a ten-by-ten space with a bed, a mini fridge, a TV, and a small bookcase. Ouch. I’d go stir crazy in here.

Tylesia latched on to my hand as we speedwalked out of the building, her eyes roving over me.

“You said Dwayne hired you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That asshole said he was in prison. He gloated about it, how he’d committed the perfect crime and pinned it on Dwayne. I think he was trying to convince me that because he was smarter, I should choose him. You’re telling me my brother isn’t in prison?”

“We appealed two weeks ago,” I explained, watching the relief flood her lines. “He was proven innocent. He’s a free man and hoped we could find you.”

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. I could tell she was overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions and didn’t blame her one bit. This poor woman had been through hell and back. The fact she was still standing and demanding answers spoke of her resilience.

“Before you lock him up,” she informed us, tone hardening, “I’m going to punch that bastard dead in the face.”

“Frankly, ma’am?” Marc grinned at her. “I’ll testify you did no such thing.”

“Agent, you and me? We’re going to be good friends.”

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