Chapter Nine
Marcus took in the basement suite in a house he knew was at least a hundred years old. He could smell the mustiness in the dingy tiny place, and he glanced at the papers, a sweater on the floor, a small table knocked over. From the open door to the bedroom, he spotted a mattress pulled off the bed, blankets and clothes tossed. Suzanne was standing in front of Reine.
He knew when someone was terrified, and from what he was seeing, something bad had happened. He also knew when someone had been hit. Her face, her jaw… He’d been in enough scrapes on the wrong side of the law and had been hit more times than he could remember, so he knew what a punched face looked like.
Then there was fear, something else he’d seen too many times.
Owen was in the doorway of the bedroom, and Mar
