A sound announced that the computer was now unlocked. She moved the mouse, lighting up the screen. One by one, she read through McGill’s emails. There weren’t that many. McGill had deleted anything older than a month, and then she’d emptied her trash. She’d also cleared her search history.

  “Savvy lady,” Sadie muttered.

  Clearly, Tara McGill wasn’t the airheaded blonde she pretended to be.

  Other than the apps, only one folder existed on the desktop. The label read “Files.” Sadie attempted to open the folder, but it was password protected.

  Sadie ran the security breaker app again. Didn’t work. She had McGill’s username and password, which allowed her to view the stored usernames and passwords for websites and apps. But not for the “Files” folder. McGill appeared to have everything backed up on a cloud, which might work to Sadie’s advantage. She could pass what she had along to her computer guy, and he would most likely find a way in. He’d never failed her before. She doubted this security system was anything he hadn’t encountered in his long history of hacking.

  A five-year stint in prison had only sharpened his skills. He’d met all sorts of other geeks. The powers that be should consider what those sorts of geniuses could do when they put their heads together.

  Sadie removed the thumb drive and slipped it into her pocket. She went into the adjoining bath and found nothing but hand soap on the counter and toilet paper on the wall-mounted holder. Toilet tank held only water.

  Sadie moved on to McGill’s bedroom. The search in here would take considerably longer. The woman had a lot of clothes. Her walk-in closet looked as if she’d decided to start her own boutique. Sadie went through the most likely places first. In the ventilation duct. Under the mattress and the bed. In and under the drawers. On the backs of the pieces of furniture. She found another stash of oxy in a makeup compact and lots and lots of silky, racy lingerie.

  Sadie progressed to the closet. The door was an in-swing louvered style, allowing for airflow into the large closet. Starting on the left, she checked one article of clothing after the other. Thankfully, there weren’t a lot of pockets other than in her jeans and the few pairs of slacks.

  A sound . . . a solid thud froze Sadie in place. The door. Front door. Then McGill’s frustrated swearing preceded her up the stairs.

  Sadie turned off the light and burrowed into the row of dresses near the corner, where the door would block her if McGill came into the closet. She twisted her sneakered feet to the side and hoped that would be enough.

  McGill stopped at her home office first. Sadie closed her eyes and restrained a groan. Had the computer gone dark by now? Most people set them to go dark after ten or so minutes of inactivity. If that was the case, Sadie was safe. The screen would be black. She’d been in the bedroom a half hour at least. But if the setting was much longer . . .

  Hurried steps rushed into the hall. Sadie held her breath. McGill entered the bedroom. Sadie heard her moving around the room, swearing under her breath every few seconds. She couldn’t see what she was doing but assumed McGill was searching for something she’d forgotten.

  Couldn’t be anything important, because Sadie hadn’t found anything important.

  McGill walked into the closet, all the way to the far end—the end Sadie hadn’t reached yet—and began to rifle through the garments hanging there. The sound of hangers swiping across the metal rod prodded Sadie’s pulse into a rapid fire.

  Only two or three feet from Sadie, McGill stopped.

  “Here you are.” She removed a garment from its place and hurried out of the closet.

  Sadie dared to inhale a deep breath.

  McGill abruptly rushed back through the door. “For fuck’s sake,” she griped as she walked through the closet again. The sound of fabric rustling and then a “Now.”

  It wasn’t until Sadie heard the front door slam again that she relaxed and emerged from the rack of fabric. A quick glance around told her McGill had taken a pair of shoes in addition to whatever garment she’d grabbed. The empty spot was where a pair of red high heels had been resting, waiting their turn to show off the owner’s sleek ankles and toned legs.

  When she’d finished in the closet, Sadie moved to a window that looked out over the street and verified that McGill’s Corolla was gone before going downstairs. She quickly went through the rooms on the first level. Discovered McGill’s workout gear in a large closet intended for coats.

  The downstairs search was carried out the same as the one on the second level and yielded nothing other than the name of the gym McGill used. There could be a locker there. Something else to add to her list of places to check out.

  When Sadie was sure the coast was clear, she exited the town house, locked the door, and walked casually to her car. As she drove away, she called Wesley Bryant, better known as Snipes. She’d given him that nickname after the first few times they’d worked together. Every damned time she had required his services and made the call, the man had been in the middle of watching a Wesley Snipes movie.

  Snipes was glad to hear from her—no matter that she called only when she needed his help—ASAP, of course. He had plenty of other customers, but he was always happy to put Sadie at the front of the line.

  Loyalty was a characteristic she greatly appreciated and found all too rarely.

  Taylor Residence

  Eighteenth Avenue South

  Birmingham, 3:00 p.m.

  Sadie gave a nod to the new guy, Tim Barton, as she walked past his car. She’d had to bring in another set of eyes to keep up the surveillance on Naomi’s house. It was the least she could do. She should have done more before Asher had ended up shot in the back of the head.

  Regret pierced her. Sadie rarely allowed herself to feel any sort of emotion, but this she couldn’t keep at bay. She cleared her head and focused on the here and now. Naomi Taylor was never less than happy to see Sadie. The feeling was mutual. Sadie didn’t like a lot of people, but she liked Naomi.

  The bag she’d brought clutched in one hand, Sadie knocked on the door with the other and waited for the woman to answer. After a second knock, the locks rattled and the door opened.

  Naomi smiled. “I’m so glad to see you, Sadie. Come in.”

  Sadie had never liked her first name—mainly because her father had picked it out—but she didn’t mind Naomi using it. Most anyone else would get their ass kicked for calling her anything other than Cross.

  After the expected discussion about tea, Sadie followed Naomi into the kitchen and watched while she prepared the kettle.

  The older woman announced, “Asher’s parents are in town.”

  Sadie imagined they had come to ensure their son’s case was being investigated properly—the old man was a lawyer, after all—and to make arrangements for his body. Asher and his father had had the sort of relationship Sadie had with hers. He hadn’t talked about the reasons, and she hadn’t asked. She’d learned long ago that when you asked personal questions, you generally ended up having to answer the same.

  Sadie cleared her throat. “Are they taking him back to Boston?”

  “I imagine so.” Naomi sighed. “I’m certain he would prefer to be buried here, but his father will have none of that.”

  “Has your sister called you?” Despite their differences, one would think Asher’s mother would want to be with family now. Particularly considering how much Asher had loved his aunt.

  But not Lana Walsh. All the more reason Sadie did not like the woman.

  “She won’t call me. I won’t even be invited to the funeral.” She sighed. “But that’s fine by me. I’d rather remember Asher as he was.”

  “Has anyone come by to speak with you besides the two detectives, Devlin and Falco?”

  Naomi shook her head. “Not a soul. Should I be expecting someone?”

  “Not that I know of. I was just wondering.” It seemed Falco and Devlin had stuck by their word and kept Naomi, as well as Sadie, from the task force. Maybe one day her confidence in humankind would be restored.

  She mentally smirked. Not likely.

  “Did the detectives take anything from his room?”

  Naomi shook her head. “They took photos but didn’t take anything else. I was glad. I think they recognized that I really wanted to keep everything possible. I’m sure his parents will be taking all his things from his condo.”

  “There’s one thing they won’t be taking.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened in expectation as Sadie reached into the bag she held. “I dropped by his condo and got this for you. I knew he would want you to have it.” She passed the framed photograph of Naomi and Asher to the lady.

  “Oh, thank you so much.” She clutched the photograph in both hands and smiled sadly. “This is my favorite picture of us together.” She lifted her gaze to Sadie. “I’m certain they would have tossed it out.”

  Sadie smiled too. Something else she rarely did. Naomi made her want to smile. Asher had, too, for that matter. He was the first person she had allowed so close in a very long time.

  “Is there anything new on the case?” Naomi held the photograph to her chest as if she were hugging her nephew.

  “Nothing yet. A task force has been set up to work on the investigation. Hopefully things will move along quickly. The parents coming will put a living face on the loss and prod the efforts—particularly if they go public. Asher’s father is a powerful man. The people in charge will not want him suggesting they aren’t doing anything other than a stellar job.”

  Naomi gave a little nod. “At least the bastard is good for something.”

  “Did you ever like him?” Sadie couldn’t help being curious. Besides, maybe there was something in that broken relationship between father and son that pertained to her investigation into Asher’s death. There was definitely something off with the mother.

  “I tried to in the early years,” Naomi admitted. “But it was clear he didn’t care for me right off the bat. I think he was intimidated by my credentials.”

  “Really?” A frown furrowed across her brow. “But he’s a Harvard-educated attorney. Rich. Powerful. Well respected.”

  Naomi held her gaze for a moment. “I think because he recognized I saw through him.”

  “Saw through him how?”

  “I did a little research on Leland Walsh. His academic record is quite impressive, but I spoke with a good number of others who attended Harvard at the same time as he, and they couldn’t believe he’d done so well. They insisted he wasn’t nearly so brilliant as he would have the world believe. He’s built his empire on the backs of others, my friend. He is an evil man. Asher despised him.”

  “Do you have any proof that he’s involved with anything shady or illegal, or are we talking about evil in the sense that he’s ruthless and will do whatever necessary to win?” She’d never met a really good attorney who wouldn’t.

  “Probably the latter. I know how ruthless he is. He turned my sister against me. Tried to take Asher from me. His firm has quite the reputation for winning. Their record appears to be unblemished, and we both know you don’t win like that without crossing certain lines. It’s the corroborating it that most often proves impossible.”

  Sadie recognized part of Naomi’s hatred for the man was nothing more than the fact that he had stolen her family. But Sadie also knew Naomi had a keen, highly intelligent mind. She was no fool. There was likely some merit to her claim.

  “Do you feel his sheer ruthlessness is what ruined his relationship with Asher?”

  Naomi nodded slowly. “I do. Asher was a kind, loving soul. He was one of the rare few who truly believed in justice for all. The older he got, the deeper his hatred grew for the mentality of people like his father.”

  “Would you like me to have his ass kicked while he’s here?”

  Naomi laughed so hard she lost her breath. “I suppose not, since I would surely be blamed. But the thought is marvelous.”

  Now for the part she dreaded. “Naomi, I’ve looked into your sister and her husband a bit. Like you, I couldn’t find anything off about Leland, but I did discover something odd in Lana’s activities over the past year or so.”

  Naomi’s eyes lit with hope. “Please tell me that she’s been cheating on the bastard. That would make my day.”

  “Afraid not.” Sadie wondered if this lady would be hurt by what she was about to learn and if it mattered in the grand scheme of things. She couldn’t risk that it might. “Did you know Lana has been coming to Birmingham once a month for a day, sometimes two, for the past fifteen months? Maybe longer, but that was as far back as I could find data.”

  Surprise claimed the older woman’s face. “I could see her coming to visit Asher since he moved to Birmingham, but as far as I know, she didn’t. Are you certain you have the right Lana Walsh?”

  “I am. Can you think of any reason Lana would come here without telling you or Asher?” Though he hadn’t been here so long, one would think Lana would visit her only child if she came all the way to Birmingham. Obviously, she had not, or at least Asher hadn’t admitted as much to Sadie or Naomi.

  Naomi appeared baffled by this news. She shook her head. “Lana has always hated everything about the South, particularly Alabama. I can’t imagine any reason she would visit so frequently. Did you say every month?”

  “Yes. Could she have some other family or friends here? Maybe there are distant relatives your mother never told you about.”

  Naomi shook her head. “There are no other relatives on either side. As for friends, all my sister’s friends are in Boston. She only came here a couple of times. Asher most always traveled alone when he came for his visits. Lana would put him on a plane in Boston and pick him up when he returned. She hates Alabama. Always has.”

  Moving on, Sadie asked, “Is it possible your father left her some sort of property or share in some kind of investment?”

  “Absolutely not. I executed my father’s will. Lana was not mentioned.”

  “But could he have passed something along to her before his death? Something you didn’t know about?”

  She exhaled a heavy breath. “Just because I adore you,” she said to Sadie, “I will double-check. I have an old friend who retired from public records. I’ll see if she can dig anything up.” Naomi’s gaze connected with Sadie’s. “However, there were no secrets between me and my father. I am utterly confident that you’re barking up the wrong tree on this one, my dear.”

  Sadie hoped Naomi was right.

  19

  4:00 p.m.

  Jefferson County Morgue

  Sixth Avenue South

  Birmingham

  Kerri parked. Shut off the engine and collapsed against the seat. She had spent the past five hours tracking down information on the Cortez family and surveilling their house. She’d watched as the black Cadillac Escalade arrived home with Alice in tow. The woman and the girl had climbed out of the vehicle and walked into the house. Alice had a haughty walk about her. Kerri hadn’t noticed that before. Maybe she only noticed it now because of what Sue had told her.

  Tori had sent a text saying Diana had picked up her and the boys. They were going for ice cream. Kerri had called Tori back immediately. A text wasn’t good enough anymore. Not after Amelia. She had needed to hear her daughter’s voice.

  Tori had sounded tired and . . . depressed. The idea that Kerri couldn’t protect her daughter from this kind of pain broke her heart all over again. But she couldn’t. All she could do was support her, love her, and try to find the truth. Before ending the call, she’d spoken to Diana and urged her to keep a close watch on Tori. Her emotions were so fragile and unstable right now. She needed to feel their unwavering support.

  At three thirty Falco had called with news that the ME wanted to meet with the two of them at his office. Moore wouldn’t call for a face-to-face unless something was up. As much as she wanted to stay on the Myers case, this was a meeting she couldn’t miss. It wouldn’t take long.

  Falco’s Charger pulled into the lot, and she climbed out. Met him at the halfway point between their vehicles.

  She summoned a smile. “You have any idea what this is about?”

  He shook his head as they walked toward the entrance. “No idea.”

  Moore’s assistant waited for them in the lobby. Kerri exchanged a glance with Falco. This couldn’t be good.

  The assistant ushered them toward an autopsy room and left them at the door. Falco took a moment to survey Kerri. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “I’ll catch you up after this.”

  He opened the door, and they entered the room. Moore stood next to the table where Leo Kurtz’s body lay covered with a sheet from the waist down. The usual closed incisions made after an autopsy were visible.

  Once they’d gathered around the table with Moore, he began, “Leonard Kurtz died of a single gunshot to the back of the head. The weapon used was a .22 caliber. All his lab work came back clean. No drugs were found. His blood alcohol content was well below the level considered to cause impairment.”

  He couldn’t have told them this on the phone? Kerri liked the man, but dragging her over here for this was a little frustrating. She could have picked up her daughter from school and spoken with her face-to-face if not for having to come to this urgent meeting.

  “Kurtz isn’t why I asked you here,” Moore said quietly, as if he feared someone overhearing even though the door was closed.

  Kerri’s frustration fizzled as Falco asked the question that suddenly cleared through the worry in her brain: “You have something to share on Walsh?”

  Moore nodded. Kerri and her partner shared a look.

  “Dr. Moore,” Kerri cautioned, no matter that the cop in her was dying to hear what he had to say, “as much as we appreciate anything you’re willing to share, we don’t want to put you in the line of fire. You’re aware of the protocol established for the task force investigating this double homicide.”