Page 2 of Craving Sin (Touch of Evil 13)

“I’ve learned a lot in my lifetime,” the woman said with a kind smile. It was impossible to ignore her quiet fortitude. “The only thing time can’t fix is death. We may not like how our wounds heal, but they heal all the same. And as long as you’re breathing, there is hope.”

The words struck a chord deep within Brook. She had truly believed the past couple of weeks had been demonstrating the opposite. Breathing hurt so much, how could the instinctual and necessary action possibly bring hope?

The woman gave a slight nod of encouragement before stepping back and proceeding toward her husband’s gravesite. Her black purse swayed with her even strides. There had been no reservation in her advice. No judgment, either.

“Wait,” Brook called out, causing the older woman to pause. She slowly turned with a questioning expression across her elderly features. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for yours, dear.”

The bright flowers she carried stood out against the harsh winter landscape. The vivid colors of the petals suggested there had been some truth to her advice. Maybe timehadhealed the widow’s wounds enough to live life to the fullest. The woman’s counsel had stirred something deep inside Brook.

Time.

What she needed was time.

The day she had discovered Cara’s body, Brook had vowed to obtain justice for her brother’s victims. In the midst of the endless questions from both law enforcement and the media, she had gradually shut herself off emotionally, becoming numb to it all.

Jacob’s dark presence in her life had made it impossible for her to visualize anything else but death. He was cunning, manipulative, and utterly ruthless. He had traits that would enable him to elude capture. No one understood that better than Brook.

Staring out over the cemetery and focusing on Cara’s final resting place, Brook sensed something shift within her. No longer would she remain a passive bystander in her own life. She would not allow her brother’s actions to dictate her choices. From this moment forward, she controlled her future.

After all, she had nothingbuttime.

2

Brooklyn Sloane

June 2025

Tuesday — 1:07 pm

The private jet’s engines hummed softly as the pilot skillfully steered the aircraft toward a secluded airstrip in Alaska, three hours southwest of Anchorage. Inside the cabin, a lengthy couch lined one half of the aisle. Across the thin strip of beige carpet, two sets of four leather seats surrounded square tables anchored to the floor. Despite the sunlight streaming through the compact windows, once the jet landed, the dense cloud coverage would block out any traces of sunlight.

“…already touched base with the Anchorage field office. There will be two agents meeting us at the landing strip, and…”

“I’ve been in contact with Toklo Kalluk, the victim’s father. He served as Alaska’s governor from 2012 to…”

Though the occasional conversations from those on board could be heard, an unspoken tension hung in the air like a cold, damp washcloth. Even the recycled air seemed too thick to take a deep breath.

Brooklyn Sloane had positioned herself near a window, her focus on the jet’s wing. She absently twirled the spinner ring on her right hand while analyzing every decision she and her team had made up to this point. Every fiber of her being had screamed against taking this trip, but the lengths her brother had gone to ensure their presence in the state of Alaska—during the month of June—held significance.

Unfortunately, she had yet to figure out his motivation.

The extent of Jacob Walsh’s sacrifice indicated heneededto be present at a particular location on a specific date. He had given up years of his life to be incarcerated in an attempt to lure his only surviving victim, Sarah Evanston, out of the witness protection program. If he had the patience for something of that magnitude, what awaited them in Alaska?

Jacob had intentionally shifted the FBI’s focus to a young woman who had gone missing back in 2014. While he claimed to know the location of Lusa Kalluk’s remains, he had not explicitly confessed to killing her.

At least, not in so many words.

The federal prosecutor, Nathaniel Carter, disagreed with Brook’s viewpoint.

Unfortunately, Jacob was maneuvering federal government agents around like pieces on a chessboard…and Brook was the queen.

“How is Sarah these days?”

Jacob had always been able to read Brook’s thoughts. There was one slight difference between the past and the present, though—she had perfected the ability to school her emotions.

“Thriving, from what I hear,” Brook replied casually before turning her focus from the wing of the aircraft to her brother. Jacob sat across the aisle on the couch in an orange jumpsuit. He was flanked by two federal agents, not that their presence seemed to bother him in the least. “Would you like some more water? The air in the cabin is rather dry, and we wouldn’t want you to suffer from dehydration.”

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