“The killer took his time. Each man was forced to kneel. Each was asked something before being shot. There were marks on the floor where they crawled, begging.”
My stomach turned. Not my brothers. Proud men. Veterans.
“They wouldn’t beg,” I said before I could stop myself.
“They did. And I think you know why.” She leaned closer. “The name Reyes mean anything to you?”
My blood went cold. Victor Reyes. I hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud in three decades.
“Should it?” I managed.
“Victor Reyes disappeared in 1986. His daughter Miranda spent her life searching for him. Six months ago, she hired a private investigator who started asking questions about the Steel Eagles.” She paused. “Three weeks later, the PI was found dead in a ditch.”
I closed my eyes. Miranda. She’d been just seventeen when her father vanished. Beautiful, angry girl.
“Mr. Harmon,” Kent continued, “I don’t think you killed your brothers. But I think you know who did. And why.”
The memories I’d buried for thirty years threatened to surface. The oath we’d all taken. The secret we’d agreed to carry to our graves.
