Tori shook her head. “Things like this don’t happen at Brighton.”

  As hard as she tried to focus on the words printed on the pages, Tori’s mind wouldn’t latch on to them. It was like looking at a foreign language. Alice still stared at her. She could feel her gaze burning her cheek. Had something happened between her and Alice one of those times Tori had spent the night with her? She’d had weird dreams when she’d stayed at Alice’s house. But this wouldn’t have been a dream. Worry tore at her. She didn’t dare ask Alice to explain what she meant.

  “This is going to destroy your life, Tori. Your family—everyone here—they’re all going to be shocked and believe the worst. That’s what people do. Someone has to take the blame for what happened.”

  Terror rose in Tori’s blood. Her throat tightened to the point she couldn’t speak.

  “I know you’ve thought about this before. When your father left. And then when your cousin was murdered.”

  The whispered words echoed in Tori’s ears as if Alice had shouted them.

  “You’re thinking it would be easier not to have to deal with it. I understand. I would be terrified too. It would be so humiliating if they learned the whole story about who you are.”

  “You can’t tell,” Tori warned, finally finding her courage once more. “Whatever it is you think you know, you can’t say a word.”

  Alice’s lips formed another of those sad smiles. “Don’t worry. I would never tell anyone. You can trust me. I won’t let you down. Whatever you decide, I will never tell. No one ever has to know the whole truth. Unless . . .”

  Tori blinked. “Unless what?”

  Alice leaned closer. “Unless Sarah already told them.”

  “I’m telling you,” Tori argued, “even if she knows, she wouldn’t do that. We’ve been best friends too long.”

  “She told me before that night.”

  The words stabbed deep into Tori’s chest. This wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be sure Sarah even knew. They had never talked about it. Alice could be lying . . . she could be trying to make Tori say something she didn’t want to say. “I don’t believe you.”

  “How do you think I knew? That night—when it happened—you didn’t notice I wasn’t shocked?”

  Tori couldn’t remember. What was she talking about? Fear pounded in her veins.

  “You have to decide, Tori.” Alice glanced toward the door; her breath caught.

  Tori followed her gaze. Sarah closed the library door behind her and started toward their table. The thrashing in Tori’s chest seemed to rise into her throat.

  “You have to decide,” Alice repeated. “Either tell the whole truth and face the consequences or . . .”

  Tori’s gaze collided with hers once more. “Or?”

  “Or take yourself out of the narrative. That’s the simplest solution.”

  12

  4:15 p.m.

  Birmingham Police Department

  First Avenue North

  The task force meeting started off exactly the way Kerri had imagined it would. Mason Cross and his team were lead. The DEA had been investigating the Osorio cartel throughout its steady surge into power—for nearly a decade. More recently, local agents had been following a newly discovered connection in Birmingham upon which Asher Walsh seemed to have stumbled. How Kurtz came to be involved was unknown at this time.

  This new connection could lead them to the main artery pumping drugs through the Southeast. It was immensely important that no one got in the way.

  Like the BPD.

  Kerri and Falco were to continue their pursuit for any information about Leo Kurtz and how he and Walsh connected. At this time, other than dying together, there was no proof the two men were involved whatsoever. Agent Cross even went so far as to suggest the execution of Kurtz was nothing more than staging to throw the DEA off track. At any rate, for Kerri and Falco it was hands off where Walsh was concerned.

  Funny, Kerri decided. If the DEA had been following the movements of the cartel as their stronghold in the Southeast increased, why didn’t they know more about the takeover in Birmingham? The transition of power from Atlanta to Birmingham? These were things, apparently, that Walsh had learned in his short time in Birmingham. The details weren’t quite adding up in Kerri’s opinion. The DEA’s primary focus was drugs. They should have been on top of this rampant spread of the Osorio criminal organization throughout the Birmingham area.

  Then again, it was certainly possible that the DEA knew far more than it was sharing. In fact, it was entirely likely.

  Cross stood at the front of the conference room, that military bearing of his exuding power and confidence. He spoke as if he had the whole situation sized up and the perfect operational plan nailed down and already well underway.

  Ultimately, for Kerri, the burning bottom-line question was, How could the upper echelon of the BPD not have been aware of any sort of ongoing operation?

  Even with a black op—one completely undercover—certain powers that be were made aware. The mayor may or may not have been briefed. But the chief of police would have known. He may not have been aware of all the dirty details, but he would have been provided a vague overall snapshot of the situation. It was the only way to prevent agencies and departments from stumbling over and into each other.

  Based on how curiously quiet the chief had been so far, he’d been as in the dark as anyone else on this. Kerri had never seen him so subdued during a major briefing.

  As if she’d said the words out loud, Falco glanced at her. She and Falco understood something was off with this situation, and it was a hell of a lot more than mere territorial issues.

  Kerri surveyed the others present. If Sadie Cross was telling the truth and Asher Walsh had thought someone in a position of power in Birmingham was involved with the cartel, then it could be someone in this room at this very moment. Special Agent in Charge Cross, the chief, and the LT—Brooks looked over his shoulder at her as if he, too, was aware of precisely what she was thinking. Maybe she was just too easy to read. The mayor sat next to DA Lockett. Seated behind the Jefferson County sheriff were three other DEA agents. Any one of these people could be wearing that mask Sadie had mentioned.

  Kerri’s attention shifted back to the mayor. Emma Warren was sixty. Attractive. Long dark hair that lay in waves around her shoulders. Being married to one of the wealthiest financial geniuses in the Southeast allowed her to wear a high-end designer wardrobe and live in a multimillion-dollar mansion. Warren donated her salary as the mayor to support a brand-new endeavor: the Women of the Future mentoring program. Three students, grades seven through nine, were chosen in January each year for the program. Mayor Warren would mentor one, while two other prestigious and powerful women of Birmingham would mentor the other two.

  It was an exemplary program, and frankly Kerri had no reason not to like the woman beyond her public decision to ensure a task force investigated this case rather than merely the BPD. Kerri supposed she should be grateful the investigation into the murder of a high-profile citizen wasn’t on her and Falco.

  Except she wasn’t.

  Agent Cross continued to drone on about the terrifying statistics of drugs and human trafficking and how the cartels were the main drive behind those ugly crimes. Kerri attempted to stay on task, but her thoughts drifted to her daughter and Brighton Academy. She’d sent a text to Tori at lunch and asked how her day was going. Her daughter’s response had been a thumbs-up. Kerri hoped that was the case, but she knew too well how these things went. Rumors would be rampant. Fingers pointed. Accusations thrown about.

  She closed her eyes and tried to view the situation objectively. Tori and her friends had been the ones huddled with the Myers girl when she’d fallen. Of course, they would be the center of gossip and innuendo. Kerri forced her eyes open. How could something as seemingly simple as a disagreement between middle schoolers have evolved into something so devastating? The four girls had been standing on the landing. Based on the security camera angle, the leopard-print flats worn by Brendal Myers had been heels toward the camera, which confirmed she’d stood with her back to the descending steps. The other three, including Tori’s black Converses, had been toes toward Myers in a sort of semicircle.

  The only conclusion could be that the three had ganged up on Myers somehow. Even as Tori’s mother, Kerri couldn’t deny the way it looked—at least from the perspective of the shoes the girls had been wearing.

  It looked bad. No question.

  But the video surveillance showed Myers’s right foot coming out behind her as if she’d taken a step back and hit air rather than lost her balance due to being pushed. The movements hadn’t been frantic or clipped. Right leg had swung back ever so slightly, and then she’d tumbled down. The other three sets of shoes had remained exactly as they were for several endless seconds. Then, Tori in the lead, the three had rushed down the stairs. As the girls came into view, the camera captured the stunned expression on Tori’s face. Sarah’s and Alice’s faces had been tilted more downward, so deciphering their expressions was basically impossible.

  “You ready?”

  Kerri pulled free of the troubling thoughts. The briefing had ended, and folks were filtering out of the conference room. Falco stood over her, his face showing the concern she heard in his voice. He was all too aware of her dilemma.

  “Yeah.” She stood. “Look, do you mind if we drop by your place to get your Charger? There’s something I need to do, and then I’ll catch up with you.”

  They were working on the list of Kurtz’s friends that George Caldwell had provided. Based on what the employees, including Caldwell, had stated so far, the list likely comprised customers with whom Kurtz had associated more than others or for a longer period of time. There appeared to be no friends outside his employees, customers, and business associates.

  “No problem.” Falco eyed her speculatively. “But I would like to know where you’ll be.”

  They were partners. No secrets. They’d come to that agreement after their first big case together. With the caveat that they wouldn’t discuss the distant past. Meaning Falco’s undercover days. No reason to, she supposed. Whatever he’d done in the past, good, bad, or indifferent, she trusted him completely.

  “I’ve been trying to check in on Sarah Talley, but her mother isn’t returning my calls. I thought I’d stop by. I need to look her in the eye and get her take on what’s happened.”

  “You know Sykes and Peterson won’t like it.”

  “This is about my daughter. I don’t care how they feel.”

  Falco nodded. “Got it. I’ll carry on with that list.”

  His face told her he wasn’t particularly happy about their going in separate directions. He was worried. Hell, she was worried, and she damned sure didn’t like anything about this.

  In the corridor outside the main conference room, the chief and the mayor were in deep conversation with Cross and a couple wearing visitor’s badges. Kerri was too far away to read the names written on the badges, but the stark pain on the woman’s face was telling enough even before Kerri recognized her.

  The mother, Lana Walsh.

  The man was the father, Leland Walsh. There was some resemblance to the murdered DDA in his profile. The sharpness of the nose, the thick eyebrows.

  “Walsh’s parents arrived last night,” Brooks said quietly as he moved in shoulder to shoulder with Kerri. “The chief will be giving them a full update. As will Agent Cross, apparently.”

  The LT’s tone hinted that he wasn’t too thrilled with Cross, either, but he was far too diplomatic to say as much.

  “Everyone is watching.” Brooks looked from Kerri to Falco and back. “Stay inside the lines on this one.”

  Kerri nodded. Falco did the same.

  It wasn’t until they were past the painful huddle in the corridor that Kerri could breathe again.

  The only thing people were watching more than this investigation was the incident at Brighton Academy. It was all over the news, including the video of her loading Tori into her Wagoneer and speeding away.

  Worry chewed at Kerri’s ribs. How in the world could she fix this?

  “I need to pop into the ladies’ room,” she said to her partner. What she needed was a moment.

  Falco nodded. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  He strode on to the stairwell exit as Kerri moved toward her destination. The hydraulic wheeze of the ladies’ room door closing behind her followed Kerri into the first stall. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cool metal. She needed a moment of total silence to quiet the worries spiraling out of control in her head. The hydraulic wheeze sounded again, followed by heels clicking on tile. Kerri ignored the realization that she was no longer alone and worked to calm her thoughts. Tori would never hurt anyone. She was a good kid. A happy kid—at least as happy as teenagers could be. She needed her mother to be strong. To be there for her.

  Kerri drew in a deep breath. Losing it wasn’t going to help her daughter.

  She squared her shoulders, reached back and flushed the toilet, and then exited the stall. A woman stood at the row of sinks, her head bowed. Kerri looked away, walked straight ahead to the first porcelain bowl, and went through the motions of washing her hands. Another deep breath. She forced the lines of worry on her face to relax. Everything would be okay. Sykes and Peterson would find the truth—she would help—and Tori would be cleared. Life would go back to normal.

  Kerri would not allow any other outcome. Good. Okay. She had to go. Falco was waiting.

  “You’re working on my son’s case.”

  Kerri’s attention shifted to her right. Lana Walsh. If Kerri hadn’t been so flustered, she would have recognized the elegant suit the woman wore. Damn.

  “Yes.” Kerri grabbed a paper towel and dried her hands. “Detective Kerri Devlin.”

  The mother moved closer, her eyes searching Kerri’s. “I need you to do something for me, Detective Devlin.”

  Kerri wadded the towel in her right hand. “I’ll help if I can, ma’am.”

  “Find who did this. Don’t be distracted or fooled by theatrics.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Kerri assured her.

  Her face gripped by misery, the other woman nodded. “Thank you.”

  Kerri gave a nod and made her exit.

  When she reached her car, Falco was waiting, leaning against the front fender.

  “I have a message from Lana Walsh,” Kerri announced. At her partner’s raised eyebrows, she went on, “I ran into her in the ladies’ room. She wants us to find who did this and to not be distracted or fooled by theatrics. Who do you suppose she’s talking about? The task force or maybe her sister, Naomi Taylor?”

  Falco grunted. “Could be both.”

  “Maybe,” Kerri agreed.

  He pushed away from the vehicle and started around the hood. “For the record”—he paused before getting in—“I’d do the same thing you’re planning. Make Talley talk to you, Devlin. To hell with what Sykes and Peterson think. To hell with this case. I’ve got this.”

  Just another reason she was grateful for her partner.

  Talley Residence

  Twentieth Street South

  Birmingham, 5:30 p.m.

  Renae Talley’s SUV was in the driveway.

  Kerri parked at the curb and climbed out. Tori usually went home after school. But considering what had happened, she had gone to Diana’s house. Kerri would pick her up after work. Tori loved her aunt Diana but didn’t like having to change her routine. Kerri pretended it was all good. The truth was she felt completely incompetent as a mother just now. She was supposed to protect her daughter from things like this. Be there for her . . . instead she was at work. Long hours. Every day. Renae Talley, on the other hand, was a registered nurse and married to a surgeon. The couple had decided Renae would be a stay-at-home mom until Sarah went off to college.

  Even if she’d had that luxury, Kerri wasn’t sure she would have chosen to stay home rather than continue her career. Her family had always been a great support system. If Kerri was caught up in a case, there had never been a need to worry about Tori’s well-being.

  She closed the door of her Wagoneer. But Kerri’s situation was quickly changing. Her father had died a few years back, her mother years before that. Diana was scrambling to keep her life together after her daughter’s death. And Tori’s father was in New York. A band tightened around Kerri’s chest. Life happened. The only choice was to go with the flow and to be prepared when change shifted the circumstances.

  Easier said than done.

  Kerri rang the doorbell and waited. This was the first time she’d left messages for Renae and failed to receive a response. But then this was the first time the stakes had been so inordinately high. With them seemingly on opposite sides of the challenge.

  The door opened, and Renae stood face-to-face with her. She didn’t smile as she typically did. Her hair and makeup and the casually sophisticated attire were the usual fare. Her long elegant neck and squared shoulders spoke of her confidence and years of ballet. She and Diana had attended the same dance school back in the day. Renae was older than Kerri and Diana. She’d been married many years before her first and only child had come along. Unlike Kerri, who’d married right out of the police academy and gotten pregnant soon after.

  “Kerri.” The one glaring absence in Renae’s manner was that usual spark of happiness to see the mother of her daughter’s closest friend.

  No smile. Not even a hint that she was glad Kerri had stopped by.

  Kerri’s heart sank. “Renae.” She drew in a breath and reminded herself of Falco’s words. Make her talk to you. “I’ve been trying to reach you. How is Sarah doing?”

  “She’s as well as can be expected.”

  If anything, Renae’s posture had grown even stiffer. Her lips thinner and tighter.

  “I wanted to speak with you about what happened at school. We’ve always discussed whatever was going on in our daughters’ lives.” Kerri hated that her tone sounded a little hopeless and a lot uncertain.

  Renae seemed to realize how visibly out of character her reaction to Kerri’s visit was. “Of course.” She stepped back, opened the door wider. “Come in.”