"Black at Heart" - читать интересную книгу автора (Parrish Leslie)

Chapter 9

"Come on, you can do better than that. Hurt me. Take me out the very moment I come at you."

Lily blew out the side of her mouth at an errant strand of sweaty hair that clung to the side of her face. Her head down, she backed up and forced her body to relax, bouncing a little on her bare toes on the exercise mat beneath her feet. Sarge, aka Sergeant Wally Devlin, U.S. Army, Ret., stood a few feet away, his big body clad in desert camo, his head down as he studied her from under bushy brows. Any second now, he would come at her, giving her no warning as to which move he intended to use, where he might grab her, if he'd lunge or kick or dive.

And she would fight back.

"Don't think," he snapped. "Don't plan. And for God's sake, don't dwell on what you might have done to change what happened in the past. Just do it now."

What she might have done to change the past? Considering she'd been shot a few times within milliseconds of seeing her attacker's hand-and his weapon-come around the side of the surveillance van door, she didn't chide herself for not doing more.

Getting involved in the Lovesprettyboys investigation to begin with? Well, that was another story. High kicks and fast punches might not have stopped her from getting shot. But minding her own business, doing her own job, and not lying to her boss about what was going on probably would have.

"Come on, Lily, get-"

He lunged without warning, midsentence. Went left. Her body reacted instinctively. She swung right, curled her left leg for a Crescent Kick, then immediately spun farther and hit him with a Double Side Piercing Kick.

"Good girl!" he chortled as he fell to the mat.

She stepped back into a waiting position, not even winded. "You okay?"

He rolled onto his knees and looked up at her. "That's the kind of response I was looking for. Instinct kicks in. You don't overanalyze-your body tells you what to do."

The sarge was powerfully built, stubborn, and tough, but he was also a sixty-year-old man. She'd put him on the mat pretty hard, and it hadn't been the first time today. They'd been at it for an hour, enjoying the afternoon session outdoors on the patio to savor the warmth of the September day. She extended a hand to help him up.

He stared at it, rolled his eyes, then ignored her help and rose with a grunt. "Don't go getting cocky, girlie."

She grinned. At first, the man had seemed like a grizzly bear. He'd pushed her hard when she hadn't believed she was ready to be pushed. He'd made her strong and made her want to be even stronger. But she'd come to recognize him as more teddy than grizzly. She didn't remember her father very well, since she'd been five when her parents had died. But she hoped he would have been at least a little bit like this man.

Reaching for a towel on the nearby table, he wiped his brow, then grabbed a water bottle and downed half its contents. Lily wasn't fooled by his weary demeanor or his heavy breathing. The man had set her up on more than one occasion. She looked for a tiny twitch of his mouth, or the shift of his eyes as he studied her position, something that would indicate a surprise assault.

"Want some?" he asked, lifting a second water bottle.

Still prepared, she nodded once, and extended her hand.

He grabbed it, tugged her forward, tried to twist her around. She responded with two quick jabs and a kick that dropped him to his knees on the mat.

'Excellent!"

"Wow, remind me to never offer you a bottle of water," a voice said.

Lily tensed, the way she hadn't when preparing for Sarge's next move. Because she recognized the voice.

A small part of her, the part that was still Lily Fletcher, who couldn't seem to get through a day without doing something klutzy, reacted with pleasure. Pure happiness at the thought of seeing a friend poured through her before she could stop it.

But the rest of her responded only with wariness, wondering what Brandon Cole was doing here, and what the visit meant.

"Brandon," she said, nodding at the spiky-haired blond who stood in the open doorway leading from the kitchen. He'd once been her friend, someone who'd somehow been able to make her smile, even on days when she thought she'd never smile again.

She'd missed him. But not enough to invite him to start coming back around again, building up his expectations that their relationship could be something it had never been, and would never be.

"Hey, gorgeous." He stepped out, arms wide, smiling so gently, genuinely happy to see her, she couldn't be annoyed that he'd surprised her. Or that he'd ignored her instructions not to come up.

She allowed him to tug her close for a hug, but quickly pulled away. "I'm a sweaty mess," she said with a forced laugh. Gesturing toward his trendy-as-always clothes, which looked as though they'd come off the pages of a men's fashion magazine, she added, "I couldn't afford to have that outfit dry-cleaned, much less replace it if I ruin it."

Knowing Brandon wouldn't have come alone, especially not on a Thursday afternoon, and that he couldn't have gotten in without Wyatt to bring him through the security checkpoints, she glanced past him into the darker depths of the house. A shadow stood there, tall, solid. Then he stepped closer and she saw his eyes.

Those wary, worried eyes.

Lily tensed. "What's wrong?"

She hadn't spoken to him since the previous evening. After his unproductive visit to the Virginia doctor's office on Tuesday, he'd dived deep into other possible witnesses. He and Brandon had contacted convention attendees, and when he'd called her last night with an update, he'd said they were striking out with every one. Some of the doctors genuinely didn't recognize the voice of the monster on the tape. Others, however, wouldn't listen at all; they just weren't willing to cooperate. Which made her wonder if someone had asked them not to.

Of course, that could just be the pessimist in her.

"Hello, Wyatt," she murmured. "Two Thursdays in a row. I'm honored." She wondered if he heard her insincerity, or her sarcasm. Frankly, she didn't know why she enjoyed jabbing at him, letting him know she wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to have him around. Maybe it was because she had once liked being around him a bit too much, and the feeling had never been reciprocated. Or because on that one night when she wondered whether it might be reciprocated, he had backed off so fast he might have sprouted wings and flown off the side of the cliff from the beach house.

Then she remembered the way he had left Sunday. The way he'd stormed out into the night, desperate to get away from her curious eyes, from her questions. From any responsibility to explain anything about himself to another human being.

And she realized why she was a little annoyed. Yes, she'd been sympathetic and she knew he had been horrified by the drunk at the restaurant. But part of her had really expected him to at least mention the incident, apologize for practically dumping her without a word. Yet he hadn't. He'd acted as though it had never happened. Which meant he had absolutely no intention of ever discussing the matter again.

"Hello, Lily," he replied evenly before glancing at Sarge. "Wyatt."

The army sergeant extended a hand, shaking Wyatt's firmly. Lily didn't know how the men knew each other, but she did know Wyatt trusted Devlin completely. The older man had made a comment or two that made it sound as though he'd known Wyatt from childhood, but he'd quickly clammed up whenever the subject skirted too close to Blackstone's sheltered past. She would bet Sarge was one of those people with some answers to the questions she wouldn't allow herself to ask.

"Good to see you again, son. We were just finishing up, but we can work out a little longer if you'd like to join in."

Wyatt managed a small smile and shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

The two men eyed each other steadily and, like Lily, the sarge realized Wyatt was not here to pay a social call. "Guess I'll run, then," he said. Turning to Lily, he added, "You're getting too good. Be ready for me to try out one or two new tricks on you next time."

"Anytime, anywhere," she said with a genuine smile. The man was a true friend. He'd helped her regain not only her physical strength but her mental strength as well. Because the more confident Lily became in her ability to defend herself, the more sure she was that she would, eventually, leave this place. Go and have that real life for herself.

"Let me walk you out. I want to get a cold drink, anyway," Lily said. She headed for the door, brushing past Wyatt, touching him ever so lightly, arm against arm.

Whatever that drink was, she didn't imagine it would be cold enough to wash away the small flash of heat still singeing her arm where it had brushed her former boss's. Nor to douse the confused warmth that arose when his eyes flared the tiniest bit and his handsome mouth opened on a surprised inhalation.

He'd felt the spark, too.

She led Devlin to the door, smiled her thanks, then closed and locked it behind him and headed for the kitchen. Wyatt had remained outside on the patio, but Brandon had come in. The refrigerator door was open, and he was half-visible behind it as he rooted around inside.

"Sorry, you won't find any Mountain Dew." As if he needed it. The young man was a cyclone of energy. She had often felt exhausted just watching him work in the office they'd shared.

"Don't need it. This’ll do fine," he said, pulling out two bottles of water.

He tossed one to her. Lily caught it in midair, the condensation slick and cooling against her hot skin.

"Wyatt?" he asked, glancing past her at the doorway. "Want one?"

She hadn't needed Brandon to confirm Wyatt's presence behind her. Her whole body had grown tense and aware the moment he'd stepped inside off the patio. The very air had felt different as it parted and shifted around him. The subtle scent of his masculine cologne teased her nose and she felt warmth fill her cheeks.

Not embarrassed warmth, as she'd often experienced with the man in the old days. Rather, her body's warm, womanly acknowledgment of how he affected her.

"No, thank you," said that deep voice. "Lily, we need to talk to you."

Opening her bottle, she drank deeply of the cold water, then pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and plopped down onto it. "Phone broken?"

"It's serious."

She knew that. She'd known that from the minute she realized Wyatt had brought reinforcements on this visit. She'd known by the way her heart kept thudding at the look of undeniable concern in Wyatt's deep blue eyes.

This was bad. So bad, she'd needed to sit down to listen to it. She just hadn't wanted him to know she'd already realized that much.

"Okay. Shoot."

Wyatt and Brandon exchanged a look, then took seats with her at the table.

"After I left here Sunday night, what did you do between then and Tuesday night when I called you about my trip to Virginia?"

She tapped a finger on her temple, as if thinking about it. "Hmm, I had the girls over for a game of Bunco, and I performed in the local community theater's production of Annie, and I bought a round for the guys down at the bar." She managed to avoid rolling her eyes. "What do you think I did?"

He didn't rise to the bait, remaining on subject. "You stayed here, alone, no trips to the store, nothing?"

"Nothing. I did some shopping last week and had plenty of supplies."

"Any visitors? Was the sarge here on Monday?"

"No. Because of the holiday, we changed our schedule to Tuesday afternoon and today."

"But he called you Monday to do that?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, we arranged it last

Friday when he came. You must have been inside at the time."

His taut jaw grew even tighter and she wondered if he was going to crack his own teeth by clenching them so hard.

"Did you go for a walk on the beach? Any chance anybody drove by, saw you jogging, maybe waved?"

A low throbbing began in the base of Lily's skull as she shook her head. "No. And that's enough questions. I want to know why you're asking them."

He hesitated, exchanging another of those glances with Brandon. Then, with a low sigh, he admitted, "Because a long-distance truck driver from North Carolina was murdered and dismembered in a Pennsylvania hotel sometime between midnight Sunday and Tuesday morning. The coroner hasn't given us the time of death yet."

Not understanding what that could possibly have to do with her, she mumbled, "That's very sad, but what does it have to do with me?"

He thrust a hand through his thick hair, more visibly anxious than she'd seen him since those first days after he'd rescued her.

"Lily," he finally informed her, never looking away as he hit her with the rest of it, "your badge was found clutched in his bloody hand."

Jackie Stokes had known for weeks that something was up with her boss and her coworker Brandon Cole. But she hadn't even begun to imagine it might have anything to do with Lily Fletcher, her late friend. Now, though, she was beginning to wonder. Because today,

Brandon and Wyatt were both gone, and Lily was all anyone was talking about.

"Can you friggin' believe this?" Kyle Mulrooney snapped as he-as all of them-watched Tom Anspaugh and one of his goons dig through the box of personal effects from Lily's desk. They’d kept her things, since there was no one to give them to. And Anspaugh apparently knew it. He'd also demanded access to case files from any investigation she'd worked on.

"It's like watching a gorilla sort through a china tea set," Alec Lambert murmured. "The destruction doesn't matter, just finding whatever it is he's looking for."

Wasn't that the truth?

Anspaugh had shown up here a couple of hours ago, claiming the team-the Black CATs, as they thought of themselves these days-needed to hand over every bit of information they had on Lily Fletcher. When Jackie, who was again acting as supervisor in Wyatt's absence, demanded to know why, Anspaugh had snarled something obscene. He'd then handed her the phone, asking her if she wanted to call Deputy Director Crandall and question him directly, or if she just wanted to get out of his way.

She'd called, of course. Screw Anspaugh. Lousy little scumbag. None of them had ever gotten over how badly he'd messed things up with his Lovesprettyboys investigation, letting one of his own agents, as well as poor, sweet Lily, pay the ultimate price.

But Crandall had confirmed the other agent's story. Jackie had been told to give the man full cooperation. Considering Anspaugh had gotten slapped pretty hard over the balls-up in Virginia, she had to wonder just what it was he had that Crandall wanted so badly.

Maybe Wyatt knew something. Crandall seemed to think so, because he'd ordered her to get her boss in from wherever he'd gone off to and have him report to the DD's office by the end of the day.

Good luck with that. Wyatt was in Maine-he'd told her that much when she'd called him to tell him what was happening. And he didn't seem to give a damn that Crandall wanted him back.

"What's going on?"

Christian Mendez, who'd been with them for about a month now, walked into the office, having just returned from interviewing a witness in a murder-for-hire case they were investigating. The agent, with his sultry Latin looks, was good at talking to witnesses. As good as Alec had been before he'd gone so gaga over his new fiancee and seemed to lose any interest in flirting with other women.

Not that Christian flirted. Oh, no. He just steamed up a room enough with all that dark intensity to get any woman talking, if only to get him to stick around a little longer. If she were ten years younger and, of course, single, he would definitely have been someone she would want to keep around.

Good God, it wasn't always easy being one of only two women to work among several of the hottest men she'd ever seen. Even a happily married, settled wife and mom could occasionally be overcome by all the sexy testosterone heating up these offices.

"What are they looking for?" Christian prompted when no one answered his original question.

"We dunno. Dickhead's going through all of Lily's things," said Kyle, not looking away from the atrocity taking place in the next room. "Lily Fletcher's."

Christian probably hadn't needed the clarification. Jackie imagined that in the month he'd been here, the murdered agent's name had been mentioned a hundred times.

"Why?"

"That's what we'd all like to know." That came from Dean Taggert, whose brow was pulled down over a fierce glare cast directly at Anspaugh's back.

All of them were huddled in the hallway outside the conference room, which also served as the team's only storage closet. Boxes and files were stacked in all four corners, and Anspaugh was busily sticking his nose into every one of them. It was all Jackie could do to remain calm when the thickheaded bastard took the framed photograph of Lily's sister and her boy, which used to sit on Lily's desk, and slid it into a plastic evidence bag.

"Did you say they're investigating the Lily Fletcher case?" a woman's voice said. Anna Delaney joined them, having just returned from going over the ACES report on the computer used in the hit-man case.

"Not sure what the hell they're investigating," Jackie mumbled, not wanting to go into yet another explanation as every member of the team came through the door. She was too busy watching Anspaugh, making sure he didn't try to abscond with evidence or confidential files. Or any personal item of Lily's that he could never justify touching, much less taking.

"Maybe it's because of the hearing."

Jackie turned her head toward Anna. So did all the others.

"What hearing?"

The other IT specialist, as efficient and self-confident as Lily had been unsure and quiet, who occupied Lily's chair and did her former job, lifted a brow. "You hadn't heard about the hearing? It's been on the news. I recognized the name immediately, of course, knowing the connection to Agent Fletcher and her family." She shook her head sadly. "Maybe it's just as well she didn't live to see the day."

Thoroughly distracted now, as was everyone else, Jackie stepped closer to the other woman and put a fist on her hip. "You know, I think you better start at the beginning and tell us exactly what it is you're talking about."

The color fell out of Lily's face in a rush, as if someone had pulled the plug on her every vein. Her mouth open in astonishment, she remained silent, having immediately grasped exactly what Wyatt was telling her.

Someone was trying to implicate her in a murder. Someone who had access to the FBI badge that had been lost when she'd been attacked all those months ago. Someone known as Lovesprettyboys. Wyatt had been tipped off to the situation by an old friend in Crandall's office and had immediately gotten Brandon to come up to Maine with him to see Lily.

"Tiger Lily, baby, are you okay?" Brandon scooted his chair closer, putting his arm around Lily's shoulders, his other hand on her clenched ones. He appeared ready to draw her into a comforting hug.

Wyatt suddenly had the urge to pick Brandon up by the front of his shirt and toss him through the patio door.

He resisted.

He had no business getting bent out of shape because another man's hands were on her, another man's arms about to draw her into an embrace. No reason for his body to tense and his breathing to grow labored just because Brandon was whispering soft, consoling words to her, treating her as delicately as a paper-thin seashell that sometimes washed up on the beach below. One that would break apart simply if touched the wrong way.

No business at all.

Yet knowing that didn't stop his temples from pounding and his teeth from slamming together in his mouth.

Then something surprising happened. Lily ducked out from under Brandon's arm, pulled back from him physically, almost imperceptibly shifting her chair an inch or two away. Though still pale, she didn't look distraught, or soft. In fact, her flinty-hard eyes were glued on Wyatt, any signs of dismay having vanished.

"What else?" she asked. "I know there's more."

Wyatt couldn't prevent a slight smile. Maybe it wasn't so surprising. Not from the Lily he now knew.

He didn't try to spare her. He didn't need to. "It's not the first murder."

"I only had one badge."

"Three other men have been brutally murdered in the past six weeks," he explained baldly. "All were lured to motel rooms by someone promising an encounter with a child."

Her eyes drifted closed for a moment, her lashes sooty black against her cheeks. That would, of course, hit her where it hurt, far more than the news that someone might be setting her up for murder.

"We don't have to go into all the details right now, do we?" asked Brandon, shooting Wyatt an annoyed look.

"Yes, you do," she said, opening her eyes again, calm and in control again, brave and forthright. Not to mention utterly magnificent.

Wyatt threw off the thought. "Each case had small clues, minor things, that pointed to you. The names of the nonexistent children were your loved ones' names. Their supposed backgrounds reflected your own. The e-mails worded like some of the communication you'd engaged in with 'Peter Pan' on that last case-the unsub used the term loves pretty boys.' It was all there."

"Making it appear I was still alive, out there, having turned into a vigilante, a rogue agent getting my revenge on anyone like the man who attacked me?"

"Exactly. And a flower was left at each scene. Last week's was a tiger lily."

She didn't flinch, didn't even suck in a breath of surprise. "Last week."

He nodded once, knowing how quickly her mind worked.

"Last week, right before you showed up here to check up on me?"

Brandon interrupted. "You have to believe us, Lily-we never actually suspected you. Not for one second. Neither of us thought you were capable of hurting anyone, of even considering doing something so violent."

She didn't even glance at the younger man; her attention remained strictly on Wyatt. Her brow lifted, her chin tilting up in challenge. "Is that true, Wyatt? You never suspected it of me, not even for one second?"

They had come way too far for him to lie. Besides, he didn't lie. Not if he could help it. Certainly not to people he cared about.

"Well?" she prodded.

Brandon shot him a warning glance, obviously still worried about Lily's fragile state.

Fragile? Maybe once. Not anymore.

Though the situation was incredibly grave, Wyatt couldn't help lifting one side of his mouth in a half smile. "Maybe for a second. Or two."

Lily didn't react for a moment, and then she actually grinned in return. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

At that moment, Brandon got it. He saw. Wyatt almost felt sorry for the younger man, who suddenly sagged back in his chair, his jaw unhinged, surprise filling his face. He supposed it would be pretty shocking to realize you knew absolutely nothing about the woman you fancied yourself in love with.

Wyatt knew her, though. He knew her very well. And liked her all the more for it.

"So your little visit last weekend, you were investigating me, right?"

"Right."

"Seeing if I, poor little lost Lily, was a ruthless, coldblooded killer." She didn't seem the least bit distressed by the idea. "All those conversations, those questions about whether I'd ever left here, about whether I could seek revenge. They were part of your investigation."

"Exactly."

"And?" she asked, almost beaming with approval that he had taken off the kid gloves. "What did you decide?"

He dropped all hints of amusement. Wyatt leaned forward, until his hands slid across the table to within a few inches of her own clenched ones, and his reply held absolutely no doubt. "That you're innocent. Not because you're not strong enough to do such a thing, but because you're so strong, you can rise above the base, human urge to."

Their stares locked. Held. In her blue eyes he saw the full breadth of her feelings-fear, worry, gratitude. And something more. A certain warmth, an intimacy that had been building between them for months, that they'd both fought so hard to ignore.

There would be no more ignoring it. Lily's seeking, searching stare promised that.

Unable to do anything else, Wyatt returned the stare, silently affirming it as well.

"Thanks again," she finally said.

"You're welcome again."

After another long stare, Wyatt glanced at the third person in the room, whom they'd almost forgotten. Brandon was watching them both intently. Though his mouth was slightly pulled down at the corners in a frown, he didn't appear angry. Merely a little disappointed. Because he'd seen the truth-that something was happening between Wyatt and Lily. Maybe it hadn't happened yet, but it was only a matter of time. Even Wyatt had begun to acknowledge that, if only in the deepest recesses of his brain.

"Thank you, too, Brandon," she said, finally turning her face toward the other man. "I really appreciate everything you've done."

The young man, sometimes a hothead, sometimes a computer geek, merely nodded. "I just want you to be happy."

"I will be. As soon as I get past this." She addressed Wyatt. "Give me the rest."

"Up until yesterday, nobody else had put these cases together. They were in three different states-the feds hadn't been called in, strictly local police. This was something only Brandon and I were investigating."

"I imagine the badge put an end to that."

"Oh, hell, yeah," Brandon said, having regained his usual cheery energy. "I don't know who you wronged in another life, babe, but the call ended up getting put through to Anspaugh."

She groaned audibly.

"And he is on the warpath, with the full support of the deputy director's office. He's going to use every resource he's got to find out if you survived."

Wyatt watched as Lily put a hand over her eyes and rubbed wearily. He honestly had to wonder whether she knew what she was in for. How ugly this was likely to get before it was over.

"If he finds out I'm alive, Anspaugh will try to crucify me for these murders."

Okay. She knew.

"It's not Anspaugh I'm worried about," Wyatt told her. "He might try to build a case, and he might even take you into custody. The bigger problem is the person behind all of this."

"Ahh." She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands up and down on her bare arms, as if suddenly chilled. "That's what he wants, right? To draw me out? He's got himself convinced I'm still alive, and was using these murders as a way to get the authorities to lead him right to me." Her voice lowered a bit. "To finish the job."

Wyatt shook his head, silently telling her she could trust him to make sure that didn't happen. He was about to open his mouth to say so. Before he could, a ringing interrupted.

"Sorry" Brandon said, tugging his cell phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID screen and frowned. "It's Jackie again. I asked her to update me on what was going on with Anspaugh and his goon squad searching our offices. I wonder if she and the rest of the team have found out about Lily's badge being at the crime scene yet."

"Don't say anything if she hasn't," Wyatt instructed.

Nodding, Brandon answered the call.

As Wyatt watched, Lily sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, as if truly surprised. At first, he figured it was because of the thought of Anspaugh actually investigating her. Then he wondered if it was simply hearing Jackie's name, knowing she was on the other end of that phone call. Of course she knew Jackie Stokes and the others were out there, living their lives, doing their jobs. But there was always that distance. Now her old life was intruding, a voice from the past speaking to a person who sat right beside her.

Brandon appeared to notice her discomfort. He rose, covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and murmured, "I'll take it in the other room."

"Be careful what you say," Wyatt replied, his voice just as low. Jackie might suspect the two of them were together, working on the mystery case she'd confronted him about a couple of days ago. Still, the less she knew, the better. For her sake, for the sake of all the rest of the team, plausible deniability was the way to go.

Lily reached for her half-empty water bottle and brought it to her full lips. Tilting her head back, she drank deeply. Every swallow emphasized the slender lines of her vulnerable neck, the smoothness of her supple skin. Jesus, was she really going to be hit with yet another nightmare by way of a murder investigation? How much did one woman have to endure in a lifetime?

She apparently noticed his sudden worry, because as she lowered the bottle, she said,” I’m fine. I'll get through this, just like I've gotten through everything else." Her voice lowered. "As long as I know I have people I can count on."

"You know you do."

"Okay. So maybe it's best that I just go in, give myself up. Now that I know the unsub's looking for me, that he's killed other people and left evidence that can be used to track him down, there's really not much point in me hiding anymore, is there?"

The very idea stunned him. "There's more reason than ever for you to stay here. You think I'm going to let you go back, watch Anspaugh make a big production out of bringing you in, then leave you exposed and unprotected for a psychopath to target?"

"What do you suggest, that I just stay here? Continue to let other people fight my battles?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Brandon did.

"No, Lily. I don't think you're going to be able to stay here. I don't think you'll even consider it."

Wyatt and Lily jerked their attention toward the doorway, in which Brandon stood. He was tucking his phone into his pocket, staring at Lily's pretty face, his frown deep, his expression troubled.

"What is it?" Wyatt asked, slowly rising.

Lily rose as well.

"It's Jesse Tyrone Boyd," Brandon said, drawing out each syllable of the hated name, which Wyatt immediately recognized. His sympathy rang in his tone and shone in the sadness of his eyes. "His conviction has been overturned and he's been released from prison."