brown bagging what had been left of his short life.
One by one, Sarah removed the contents. A pair of scuffed red sneakers. Grungy jeans with the knees torn out. A grass-stained t-shirt. A leather jacket. A scuffed silver watch. Sarah lined everything up in a neat line on the bed, treating each item with reverence, as though it were precious beyond belief.
To her they probably were. They were all she had left of her baby bro.
There was no wallet or phone in that orderly lineup. But then the cops had already told them her brother hadn’t been carrying identification when he’d been found.
“It’s so hard to believe…” Her voice was a dull, grieving pulse in the silent room as she picked up the silver watch and clenched it in her hand. “This is all that’s left of him. His entire existence relegated to a paper bag.”
Tag pushed off from the window. The pain in her voice pulled at him. He took one step toward her, only to hesitate. What if his touch as he tried to comfort her just added to her pain? What if even in her grief, Mitch’s abuse blocked her from accepting physical support?
But Christ, she looked so lost there, sitting on that bed surrounded by her brother’s things. Her shoulders hunched. Her body curved in and down, like it was protecting itself from a vicious blow. Her face empty and white. Even the copper freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose looked dull, as though her grief had leached the life from them.
He’d never seen anyone more in need of comfort, and the tug toward her was damn near irresistible. She needed to cry…or scream…or do something to purge the grief. But her previous reactions to his nearness had made it clear she didn’t want his touch.
Probably couldn’t bear it.
Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Tag turned back to the glass and glared down at the shimmering pavement below…trying to think past the knot in his chest and the steel piercing his windpipe.
Slowly, his glare shifted to a thoughtful frown. If Mitch was in Dark Falls, he was here for a reason. And a damn good one. Mitch wasn’t stupid. He had to know everyone was looking for him—the police, NCIS, his own fucking teammates. With his operation blown and his name on everyone’s lips, there had to be a reason behind his arrival in Dark Falls, a reason why he hadn’t burrowed deep and hibernated until the heat eased up.
And whatever that reason was, it apparently had something to do with the items Sarah had carefully lined up along the edge of the bed. Swinging around, Tag headed over to get a closer look. Nothing she’d pulled from that paper bag looked worth the chance Mitch was taking, but hell, appearances could be deceptive.
“Does anything look off or strange to you?” Tag asked. “Anything out of the ordinary?”
Sarah shook her head and picked up the scuffed pair of sneakers. “No. Nothing.”
She slid her hand into each sneaker and turned them over, examining the sides and soles. When she passed the shoes up to him, Tag studied them as well. Hell, nothing looked odd here. They were just a pair of well-worn tennis shoes. One by one, they examined each item of clothing. Pockets were checked, seams were felt, cloth was patted down. But nothing stood out.
As far as Tag could tell, nothing laid out on that bed warranted Mitch’s attention.
“What the hell did Mitch want this stuff for?” Tag growled, hearing his frustration in the question.
Sarah picked up the rust-colored leather jacket and hugged it to her chest.
“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong. Mitch likes toying with people. This whole morgue visit was probably just a game to him. It was his way of telling me that he knew Sean was dead all along. It makes sense. If he killed Sean, like Porter Hayes said, he could have taken all this—” she waved her hand over the items on the bed “—before my brother was even sent to the morgue. Yet he waited until we came to town? Until we tracked Sean down, before he did anything? This wasn’t about Sean’s belongings at all. He’s just playing with us.”
Tag frowned. “Maybe.”
The bastard did like his games. He’d proved as much by using Tag’s name at the morgue.
“I bet he’s long gone,” Sarah said dully as she carefully folded the leather jacket into a tidy square. “Laughing his head off as he slithers into whatever