Page 11 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

“I take it that it means something?”

“It definitely means something, although to be honest, I'm not sure what. But since your anonymous texter isn't just reaching out to you, I'm thinking this could be an opportunity to find out who killed your brother.”

I sat back in my chair, curious about his statement. “This person is texting other people? Is it from the same burner phone?” Technology could do a lot of things, but I was still dubious about whether the phone could be traced. And if it could, I doubted it would be found.

“They are from the same phone. The first messages went out before yours. We've been able to figure out they are in Boston, but we suspect that the phone—”

“Has been dumped.”

“Right. We also suspect that if this person is serious about finding whatever Liam had, he'll be in touch again. It's possible that this person has broken into a home in search of whatever it is he's looking for.”

An unsettled feeling slid up my spine. “You think whoever this is has broken into a home?” My mind scrambled to think of whose home that could be. Surely, it was one of his buddies in crime? At the time of his death, Liam had been sleeping on the couch at a friend's house. I had invited him to come stay with me once I stopped renting the room from Lindsay, but by then, he was in too deep with the gang he hung with. He knew I disapproved of his choice and decided to stay away. Not a day went by when I didn’t chastise myself for not going after him. He was twenty-one years old, and in my anger, I decided that if he wanted to throw his life away, he could. If only I'd gone after him. If only I'd tried harder.

“Yes. We're not completely sure that this break-in is related except for the fact that the victim also received the same text hours later.”

I swallowed the ball of fear that started to rise. “Are you able to tell me who the victim is?” Please let it be one of Liam’s scumbag friends. Not that I wanted bad things to happen to other people, but I hoped to hell that Liam’s life of crime wasn’t putting Lindsay in danger.

“It's Liam’s former girlfriend, Lindsay McKinnon. Do you know her?”

Jesus fuck. I pressed the palm of my hand into my temple as guilt and fear roiled in my gut. “I knew her when she was seeing my brother. Is she alright?”

“Yes. She wasn't home at the time of the break-in. Whoever it was pretty much took everything apart in the house, and then hours later, she received the same text as you. I don't suppose you have any idea what this person is looking for?”

“I have no idea.” I wondered if this guy was on his way to California to search my place. I hoped so because I hated the idea that he could still be a threat to Lindsay.

“Maybe whatever this guy is looking for got mixed up in Liam’s things. Maybe you have it and don't know it.”

I stood, walking to my office window, trying to deal with the growing panic. “I don't see how. Everything that I had of Liam's was tossed or donated. The few things I kept were from when he was a kid. They have no value except to me.” I thought back to the call I got from Lindsay five years ago. The terror in her voice as she told me that she'd found Liam in her house, and he was dead. My first thought had been a drug overdose, although Liam hadn’t been known to do drugs. To find out he was murdered was a shock. And yet at the same time, I suppose there had been a part of me, based on who he was hanging out with, that knew he could end up dead. With someone looking for something that Liam apparently had, I now had to believe there was a reason he'd been in Lindsay's home when he hadn’t been living there. The question was, was he hiding it there when he died, or had he already hidden it there and he was back to get it? I couldn't be sure that the answer to that question really mattered.

“Is there any chance they found what they were looking for in Lindsay's house?”

“We suspect not, considering the text to her came in after the home had been ransacked. Have you gotten any texts like these before? Or maybe received communication in other ways?”

“No.”

“Have you noticed anyone else hanging around your office or around your home who could have been suspicious?”

“No.” At least, not yet. But I had to consider this person could be heading my way. Or maybe there was someone suspicious around. I hadn’t been on lookout for somebody who looked out of place. It was completely possible that someone had been lurking and I had no idea.

“Well, we'll be looking into this. If you can think of anything, or if you get any more messages, please let me know.”

“I will.”

“I'll be in touch.”

“Wait !” I couldn't let him end the call without knowing what Lindsay was doing. Jesus. If she was in trouble because of Liam, then I had let her down too by not looking out for her.

“Lindsay. Liam’s girlfriend. I know you said she was okay now, but is she safe?”

“My understanding is that she's with her father and stepmom until she can get her home cleaned up. But I don't know her plans. She’s working with another detective on the break-in. Like I said, we’re not sure Liam’s murder and this break-in are related.”

I sat back feeling somewhat relieved that Lindsay was with her father. I didn't know Brett McKinnon personally. I’d met him once on New Year's Eve five years ago. What I did know was that he was a father who doted on his daughter, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

“Like I said, if you think of anything, let me know. Otherwise, I'll be in touch.” With that, he hung up.

I tossed the phone on my desk and paced by my window as I ran my fingers through my hair, chantingfuck, fuck, fuck. I felt compelled to do something but didn't have the slightest idea what I could do. Lindsay was safe and the police were on the case. That should have satisfied me. But it didn't. Not even a little bit.

As I paced back and forth, I came to the realization that when it came to knowing and understanding Liam, I was the only one who truly knew him. We had no parents since our father was incarcerated for life and our mother died at the hands of another abusive man who was also in prison. I remembered finding out about that when I was fourteen and Liam was ten. We used to fantasize about our dad and mom’s killer seeing each other in prison and beating each other until they were both dead. Morbid, I know, but they both deserved it. My mom wasn't a saint, but she didn't deserve to be killed at the hands of someone she cared for.

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