Lakevallée, FBI safe house, 8:10 p.m.

Jacquie enters the seemingly abandoned cottage and walks into the living room, the few pieces of furniture draped in white sheets. Her heels echoing on the old wooden floor, she heads straight toward a rusted metal bookshelf and reaches for a Hemingway book. Retrieving it, she places it on its side before pushing a hidden button. A loud click resonates in the empty space as the bookshelf pivots to reveal a hidden room, fully equipped with high-tech computers.

Sitting at a desk, she turns on the cameras for the safe house as well as a couple of the computers. A minute later, she is frantically typing on a keyboard, checking the time on the screen every minute. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t find anything relevant regarding Gavin Allen in the FBI files, other than confirmation of where he grew up and that his father died when he was sixteen years old. Perusing his file, she searches for some clue to explain how Allen has been able to hide his connection to Decunn all these years, but finds none.

Sighing in frustration, she leans back in her chair and notices a rental driving up the alley outside. As she watches the monitor, she sees Carl sliding out of the car and immediately stands up.

“Finally,” she greets the detective as he enters the cottage and strides to the control room.

“Did you find anything?” he inquires, taking off his coat.

“You mean, other than this?” Jacquie answers, gesturing at the desk, where she’d left printouts of Mary Elizabeth’s letter and the article regarding Richard Allen’s death.

Carl picks them up, staring at the article with the photograph of Richard Allen and his son Gavin.

“Unbelievable.” he eventually says, gazing over at Jacquie. “As much as I try to get my mind around it, your boss being Decunn’s brother doesn’t make  any sense.”

“Maybe Gavin and Harry Malone know each other.” Jacquie enunciates what has been on her mind for the past half hour. If her boss has hidden the fact that he has a brother in the very same town where he chose to have Brian enter the witness protection program, he could be hiding more.

“And what? Allen works for Harry Malone and used his half-brother to... what?” Carl asks agitatedly.

Jacquie shakes her head. “I’m not even sure how Gavin knows about his brother, or if Decunn is aware of any of this. Regardless, it can’t be a coincidence. If Gavin’s been lying to us all this time, he could be the mole we’re looking for.”

Carl stills at her words, staring at his partner.

“Think about it,” Jacquie insists. “Malone is suspected of fencing forged art, right? And Decunn is an artist, so Gavin could be using him to counterfeit paintings. And besides, the entire time we’ve been trying to bust Malone, the guy has always had the upper hand, as if someone was tipping him off. What if Gavin is the informant?”

Carl slumps down in a nearby chair. “Shit…” he whispers in realization, “...it does make sense. And if it’s true, it means Malone knows about Brian. But why would he have waited until now to get rid of Brian? And why bring-?” he questions, when he’s interrupted by the ringing of Jacquie’s cell.

The FBI agent peers down at the phone, her eyes going wide as she reads Gavin Allen’s name on the screen. “It’s Allen,” she tells Carl.

On a hunch, she motions for him to turn on the phone tracker as she heads toward the device. She then plugs the phone in and activates the software on the computer to pinpoint the call, letting a couple of rings elapse before she answers.

“Bennett.”

Gavin’s voice resounds in the room. “Allen, here. We have a situation.”

“What situation?” Jacquie inquires carefully, her eyes scanning the screen to make sure the triangulation is proceeding.

“It’s come to my attention that Justin Taylor has discovered Liam Byron’s true identity.”

“What?” The Afro-American woman exclaims, seeing the look of fear flashing across Carl’s face, while she questions how Allen knows about Taylor. “It can’t be-”

“I’m relocating both of them tonight,” Allen cuts her off.

“I…” Jacquie stammers, trying to comprehend what Allen is saying, “What do you mean, relocating both of them?”

“Justin Taylor can’t go back to his old life now that he knows Kinney is alive. He made a choice.” Allen answers, although that rings false.

Jacquie peers over at Carl, helpless. A lot of questions are swirling in her mind regarding this new turn of events, but most importantly, she realizes they realistically have no time to prevent Allen from executing his plan. “Where are you? I can come help-” Jacquie offers as she looks at the screen in the hope that the triangulation is complete, but Allen doesn’t let her speak.

“You screwed up, Bennett.” he tells her, referring to her last visit to Brian. “You didn’t report that Taylor recognized Kinney. I’ve therefore made the decision that I’ll be the only one who knows where they are from now on. You’re off the case.”

A shiver travels through Jacquie’s body at the man’s announcement. “No, Allen. You can’t expect Carl Horvath to accept that.” she protests, for lack of a better response.

“I don’t care about Horvath. He is the reason they’re in this shit in the first place. If he had kept a better lock on Kinney that night, maybe the guy would still have his old life, instead of the pathetic one he has now.”

“Allen,” Jacquie pleads, “Don’t do this.”

“We’ll talk later.” Allen ignores her entreaty and hangs up.

Hearing the dial tone in her ear, Jacquie curses, “God damn it!” She has been so absorbed in the conversation, however, that she failed to see the result of the triangulation on the computer screen.

“We’ve got him!” Horvath announces, leaning closer to look at the blinking address.

Jacquie stares at it too, intoning, “I know that address.” She fumbles with the file she brought with her and points at the address on the second page. “It’s Connor Decunn’s house.”

“What is he doing at Decunn’s?” Carl wonders.

Jacquie heads toward a locked cabinet, where she pulls out holsters and three guns, giving one set to Carl. “Here.” She inserts the smaller gun into a holster she wraps around her ankle and places the revolver into a holder at her waist, before selecting a few more items and putting them into a bag.

“Allen’s not going to relocate them, is he?” Carl questions as he attaches the holstered pistol to his belt.

Jacquie zips up the bag. “Probably not”, she replies, relocking the cabinet and grabbing her jacket, trying to fathom Allen’s motives.

“So, why…”

Horvath stops when Jacquie suddenly stills, conjecturing, “He called me because he needs someone to back up his story... I think he’s going to kill them.”

***

Connor’s house, a few minutes earlier, 8:00 p.m.

Brian blinks, his head killing him as he fights to open his eyes. He can’t breathe. He tries to move, but something is holding him back. His eyes becoming accustomed to the light, they fall on a finished canvas on an easel, lily pads floating on the water. ‘Monet’ reads the signature on the painting, making Brian blink a couple of times. Looking down to his right, he notices all the paintings leaning against the walls and windows as well as stacked on shelves. Paintbrushes, a myriad of tubes, unused canvases, dried paint on the floor, it’s all there. He understands what it means - that Gabriel’s fears were justified - although the thought vanishes when he sees the brunet sitting in a corner, tied up like him, his head down.

Connor’s face is covered in blood. A surge of panic courses through him at the sight. He remembers now, coming here with Gabriel. He remembers touching his friend’s limp body.  The unbearable thought makes him jolt upward, as he tries to scream but can’t, only succeeding in emitting a muffled cry.

“He’s awake,” a voice says next to him, a man he has never seen before appearing at his side. Brian attempts to peer up, but before he can, another hand grasps his hair, pulling his head backward.

“Just in time,” his hot breath whispers in his ear before releasing him forcibly, and Brian freezes, instantly recognizing the voice. How is this possible? It shouldn’t be happening.

But it is. Gavin Allen steps in front of him, dashing the sliver of hope that the FBI agent is here to help. The look on his face is anything but pleasant. It’s cold, malicious, even more so when Gavin begins to smile, intoning, “I wouldn’t want you to miss the show. Taylor will be here soon.”

It can’t be. Is Allen talking about Justin?

Overwhelmed by a sudden fit of rage, Brian tries to attack the agent, but the ties holding him are too tight. He continues to struggle until Gavin Allen orders the hitman next to him to punch him in the face.

The blow almost knocks him out.

“Why are you doing this?” Connor’s desperate voice reaches his ears. Feeling the blood on his lips, Brian swallows. He directs his gaze toward the brunet, a chill traveling through his bones when he sees his haunted gaze.

“Well, if you’re talking about Kinney, it’s nothing personal. He just has something my friend wants. Or more accurately, his boyfriend does.” Gavin expostulates, staring at Brian and then at Connor. “As for you… I hate you. It’s as simple as that.”

Brian feels like he is going to throw up when Allen confirms that Justin has been lured into coming back. He also wonders why Gavin is looking at Connor with so much disdain.

“What have I done to you, huh?” Connor exclaims, struggling to get free, prompting the hitman to walk closer to him and place a restraining hand on his shoulder.

Gavin slowly turns around to face the painter. “You really don’t know, do you? About our father?”

Connor stops all movement, stunned by Allen’s insinuation. “Our what?”

“You’re my brother, Connor.” Gavin calmly reveals, lightly brushing his fingers across three huge impressionist paintings resting side by side as he moves closer to Connor. “The bastard my dad had with your mom. The reason he died, why my mom lost her mind and slowly killed herself.”

Brian observes Connor’s eyes going wide at Allen’s announcement. “What? No. My father was a fucking coward who abandoned my mother when she was pregnant.”

Gavin huffs, stopping in front of Connor. “Think again. I found the last letter Richard wrote to my mother, and as it turns out, my mom knew about you and hid it from my dad. When he learned what she had done, he decided to abandon us to be with you. If not for you...”

“Daddy issues?” Connor cuts him off derisively. “That’s your excuse for making my life a living hell? You fucking pussy! It’s not my fault your dad was a jerk! Though that explains why you’re such a deranged piece of shit!”

Brian is taken aback by Connor’s boldness. It’s as if he wants to push Allen past his boundaries and have him kill him already.

“Careful,” Gavin threatens in a low voice, leaning over Connor. “Or, I swear I will take my time and make you suffer excruciatingly before I’m done with you.”

“I’d love to watch you try!” Connor lashes out, his voice breaking.

Brian almost flinches at the pain emanating from the painter. The only thing he can think of to explain Connor’s obvious agony would be if Gabriel is dead. But the gallery owner is not in the room anymore, and Brian has no idea what has happened to him.

Casting a look toward the door, Brian notices the blood on the floor for the first time. He does flinch this time, as Gavin hits Connor in response to his outburst.

The FBI agent then pulls out a knife. He watches the blade roll between his fingers, and is about to place it against Connor’s throat when he’s interrupted by the sound of shoes marching down the hallway.

Before he sees him, Brian somehow knows who is about to enter the studio.

“Gavin, it’s time for you to move your touching family reunion outside. I need to talk to Mr. Kinney. Alone.” Harry Malone demands as he walks in, delaying the confrontation between the two brothers. He casts one sharp look at his henchman, before carefully taking off his fedora and placing it on a peg by the door.

While the thug leaves the room without a word, Gavin unties Connor’s ankles from the chair, before carelessly forcing the brunet up, his hands still tied behind his back. “Don’t worry, I’ll rearrange your face soon enough. Move,” he orders, pushing the painter toward the door.

Connor resists, prompting Gavin to kick him behind the knee. The painter falls to the floor, cursing. When he looks up, his eyes find Brian’s.

The expression on his face - the anger, betrayal, and fear - fades as he breathes out, looking away, “I’m sorry,” Brian knowing he is the one being apologized to. Gavin then forces Connor up, pushing him into the hallway.

Brian watches, helpless, and briefly closes his eyes as he listens to their footsteps fading away.

“I never properly introduced myself. I’m Harry Malone.”

Opening his eyes, Brian meets the gaze of the maniac he has run from all these years. The guy’s penetrating stare still makes him want to flee as fast as he can.

Tilting his head, Malone inquires, amused, “You have nothing to say?”

Brian glares daggers at the man in response.

“Oh, forgive me… I can be so distracted sometimes,” Malone sardonically apologizes, leaning over to remove the gag from Brian’s mouth.

Brian almost spits in his face, but he is insanely angry and therefore rages instead in a hoarse voice, “You sonofabitch! What have you done to Gabriel?”

Malone raises his brows. “Me? Nothing. But I’m afraid Gavin may have killed your friend.”

Brian feels like he’s received a punch to the gut. Did they really murder Gabriel in cold blood?

“You knew.” he accuses Malone, livid as he realizes nothing would have happened to Gabriel if it weren’t for him. “All this time, with Allen, you knew where I was. So why didn’t you kill me sooner, instead of dragging innocent people into this?”

Malone scoots a chair closer to Brian and sits down in front of him, the brunet gazing down to avoid seeing the bastard’s smug face. “Well, when I heard you had survived your friend’s assault, I thought about finishing you off, but then, Gavin came up with another proposal.” he discloses, clearly enjoying their conversation.

As Brian realizes what the man has just implied, he looks up at him, breathing out, “My friend?”

“Oh, right. You don’t know.” Malone smiles, “The guy who shot you in that parking garage was your best friend. Michael... Novotny?”

“I…” Brian can’t comprehend what he’s just heard. Closing his eyes, he tries to control his sudden impulse to throw up, denying, “Michael would never…”

“He was reluctant, I’ll give you that.” Malone cuts him off. “But it was either you, or my hitman would have gone after his mom, his partner, your closest friends, your former partner, your son.” He states each possibility slowly, trying to catch Brian’s gaze, while the brunet looks away. Leaning back, Malone concludes, “Your friend was smart enough to make the right choice.”

“You used him,” Brian says, finally understanding why he has no recollection of that night. He may not remember, but he instinctively comprehends that with so many lives on the line, the only choice was to convince Michael to kill him. Imagining his best friend as the shooter is horrifying, though, making it hardly surprising that his mind has blocked out the memory.

“It’s something I do in my line of business.” Malone agrees, recalling his attention. “I needed someone who’d take the fall for your death, and your best friend was the perfect scapegoat. I didn’t expect that detective to clean up the mess, however. Or for you to survive.” He adds, his face sobering, “You should never have talked to the police in the first place.”

“You should have killed me,” Brian retorts with a murderous glare, the thought that Horvath must have helped Michael to move on with his life doing little to lessen his anger. Struggling to free his hands from his ties - wanting badly to strangle that son of a bitch for all he has put them through - he feels them finally loosen a little, but not enough to give him any hope of escape.

“Maybe.” Malone concedes.

Brian keep staring at the maniac for a few more seconds before looking away, overwhelmed by a sense of loss. He knows he’s fucked. Luring Justin into coming back is the last straw, since Malone will probably kill them both before the night is over. Brian doesn’t know what Justin has that Malone wants so much, but no matter what, he should have known the blond wouldn't just move on with his life. What was he thinking, letting him go back to Pittsburgh without coming with a plan to keep him safe?

“Gavin Allen. Who is he?” he finally inquires, needing to understand how he could have been so blind, never suspecting anything. Even though he never liked the guy, how could he have guessed the FBI agent was a fraud? Rising in the FBI’s hierarchy without drawing any attention to himself for so long seems impossible; yet, that’s exactly what Allen did.

“He’s an inside man, someone I recruited when he was a sixteen-year-old boy, a sulky teenager mad at the world, who needed someone to guide him, to give him a purpose.” Malone replies, which confirms Brian’s suspicions regarding his fate. It’s unlikely Malone would reveal so much if he planned to let them live. “The kid was remarkably smart,” Malone resumes, “though his life was spiralling out of control after his father’s death. His mother was unfit, but he was old enough to travel a different path and make a better choice for his life. And he did. My best achievement so far.”

“He’s the one who decided to make me come here.” Brian realizes, knowing Gavin must have pulled strings to be assigned to Malone’s FBI investigation and Brian’s protection, since both matters benefited the accused.

“Yes. When he came to me with this crazy plan to have you enter the witness protection program and come here, I admit I wasn’t thrilled, but he’d just discovered he had a brother, and well, I think I always had a soft spot for that kid.” Malone divulges. “I handle a lot of different types of business, so the fact that his brother could forge art convinced me.”

Brian shakes his head. “It still doesn’t explain why you didn’t get rid of me sooner. Allen didn’t need me to blackmail Connor.”

“That’s partly true.” Malone clarifies. “I would have gotten rid of you sooner, but since you knew that hustler - or so I thought - I didn’t. He stole something from me, and although I thought my men had found it back when they dealt with him, it turns out they didn’t. It took me a while to realize the flash drive that little prick had on him when he died wasn’t the one he took from me, but only a copy.” Malone stands up, heading toward the window. “I kept you alive knowing there was a possibility you would lead me to the original flash drive, since it’s the only thing that could lead to my arrest.”

“How?” Brian questions with a frown, ignoring Malone’s last declaration. “I wasn’t even aware of its existence!”

“You know how resourceful a desperate man can be. I’m sure it applies to you, too.” Malone turns back to face him, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “But in fact, when I understood you would do nothing without the right incentive, I sent you a little present.”

“Justin?” Brian breathes out after a few seconds, as he discerns what Malone is implying. “It was you?”

“I just nudged fate.” Malone reformulates. “Who would have thought that a random magazine would be so useful?”

Justin didn’t find the magazine by chance, Brian understands. It was all part of a sick game, the only purpose of which was to discover a flash drive important to Malone. It didn’t matter to him how many innocent people were killed in the process. Terror descends on Brian as he perceives why Justin has been manipulated into coming back, clueless as to what is really happening. “Justin has the flash drive.”

“He does,” Malone confirms Brian’s suspicions before observing wryly, “And once I have it, you’ll both disappear. I can’t leave any witnesses behind.”

“You’re going to kill Connor, too…” Brian surmises.

“Gavin is dealing with him as we speak,” Malone verifies, approaching the window to peer outside. He smiles, announcing, “Your boyfriend has arrived.”

“If you touch him, I’ll kill you!”

“Do I need to remind you that you’re in no position to spout threats, Kinney? I can kill him quickly, but don’t test my patience, or I won’t.”

With those last words, Malone replaces Brian’s gag and walks out of the room.

***

Same time

Justin parks the car next to Gabriel’s pickup. Safely tucking the flash drive into the pocket of his cargos, he then slides out of the vehicle. Night is descending, a soft wind grazing the back of his neck. Looking down at his phone, he checks if there is a new message from Brian - the brunet having texted him to meet at Connor’s house an hour ago. When he sees he has none, he heads toward the front door.

He is surprised the house is so quiet. “Liam?” he calls out, pushing the door open when no one responds to his knocking, and entering the living room. The lamp by the couch is shining dimly, but the room is empty.

“Justin Taylor,” a voice says his name, Justin not understanding why he doesn’t recognize it.

Peering toward the hallway leading to Connor’s office, the blond walks a few steps before pausing. A man is standing there, as if waiting for him, a small smile playing on his lips.

“We haven’t met before,” the man says as Justin frowns, a sense of doom washing over him. “I’m Harry Malone.”

The blond’s breath catches in his throat as he instinctively steps back, only to discover two men blocking his way out.

“Kinney is upstairs,” Malone informs him coldly, gesturing toward the stairs. “After you,” he encourages, waiting for Justin to precede him.