Page 49 of Secret Triplets for Christmas

"Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything that might help us understand what happened to Liam?" I asked.

"Sadly, no. As much as I want to help, there's nothing more I can divulge."

Oliver clenched his fists, frustration evident on his face. "Something doesn't add up. Someone broke into Lindsay's house, and my laptop was hacked."

Agent Marsden raised her eyebrows, clearly intrigued. "What do you think they were looking for?"

"Maybe whatever Liam had found. Evidence he wanted to give to you."

"Are you saying someone connected to this scheme could be after you two?"

"They want what Liam had, and they think one of us has it."

“By ‘it’, what do you mean?”

“He’s never said,” I told her.

“Why do you think it’s related to this case? After five years, it could be anything.”

“This is the only thing we’ve come across that fits,” Oliver said. “Why now, we don’t know, but if Liam was talking to you about a member of the crew and trying to find evidence, this has to be what our anonymous texter is looking for.”

"Did either of you find anything unusual in Liam’s things?” she asked, now much more involved and animated.

“No,” I said.

Oliver shook his head.

"Same here," Oliver added, rubbing the back of his neck. “But if we find that evidence, then we’ll likely find Liam’s murderer.”

"I strongly advise you both to be cautious. If someone is after what Liam knew, they won't hesitate to target you if they think you have it,” Agent Marsden warned.

"Shouldn't the FBI be doing something about this?” I asked.

"Without tangible evidence, our hands are tied.”

Oliver’s jaw tightened. “You’re the fucking FBI. Isn’t it your job to investigate and find the clues and evidence?”

“Mr. Quinlan—”

"He was a twenty-two-year-old kid who you expected to doyourjob, and now he's dead!”

He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t see how his accusing her of failing Liam would help us.

"Mr. Quinlan, I understand your anger, but there were limitations to what I could do without solid evidence."

"Limitations?" Oliver scoffed. "It’s not bad enough that he had endure a foster care system that allowed him to be fucked over, but now he’s a victim who slipped through the cracks of this messed up system?"

"Oliver, please, let's just go." I rose from my chair, reaching for his arm.

His jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he exhaled sharply, his eyes still locked with Agent Marsden's.

"Fine. Let's leave. We'll find the truth ourselves."

"Wait." Agent Marsden held up a hand, hesitating for a moment before she spoke again. "Your brother was incredibly brave for coming forward. And determined.” She gave us a wan smile. “He talked about maybe trying to join the FBI once all this was done. When I heard he died, I continued to look into his accusations, but then I was reassigned because there simply wasn't enough to justify keeping me on the case."

"Of course not.” Bitterness dripped from Oliver’s words. "Why bother? No one ever cared about us before. Why start now?"

My heart ached at the pain in his voice, the raw hurt that came from a lifetime of feeling abandoned and invisible.

---