“Cut the crap, Bellemont. We both know what they’re going to find. And they’ll find it soon. They know about the sister.”

  A flash of fear doused the anger. Keith wasn’t innocent in all this any more than the man staring at him. Damn it! “That’s unfortunate but—”

  “Did you think they wouldn’t find out?” Abbott blustered, cutting him off. “For God’s sake, man, it was always going to come to this if things went wrong, and things are very wrong!”

  “Mr. Abbott,” Keith urged, “I want you to stay calm and as disengaged as possible from this aspect of the situation. I will handle whatever happens.”

  “You will handle it?” Disbelief blasted him. “You mean the way you handled the rest? My son is dead, you fool. My grandchild is God only knows where with that insane woman. We have no idea what she intends to do next. How do you propose to handle this?”

  From the moment Keith had learned of Ben’s death, he had known it would likely come to this. He had also known there was no stopping it once it started. “I’m afraid the only thing we can do at this point is spin the damage. Prevent the fallout from landing in the wrong places.”

  “I should have handled this personally from the beginning, but I relied on you. Obviously, that was a mistake.” Abbott stood. “Just remember, you allowed this to happen.”

  The man stormed out the same way he had stormed in.

  There was no point in Keith telling him what he knew for a certainty.

  This was only the beginning.

  28

  7:30 p.m.

  Birmingham Police Department

  First Avenue North

  Major Investigations Division

  “It’s Sunday, and it’s late, Devlin.”

  If Falco reminded her once more what time it was and that it was Sunday, she was going to kick his ass.

  “I’m aware of the day and time, Falco. What’s your problem? You have a hot date? If so, by all means go!”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I don’t have a date, but you have a daughter.”

  Now he’d pissed her off. “Are you going to tell me how to be a good parent now?”

  He held up his hands. “Simmer down, Devlin. I’m not trying to start a fight. I’m just saying we’ve gone over this same information a dozen times. Until we hear from the professor or one of these players starts telling the whole story, we might be banging our heads against the wall.”

  “FYI,” Kerri informed him, “Tori is having dinner with Diana—my sister—and her family tonight. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

  “Well, all right then, partner,” Falco tossed back. “Let’s keep at it.”

  She flashed him an exaggerated smile. “Thank you. As I was saying, there are some things we do know. This case isn’t about the money.” Kerri had been pondering the idea that Sela Abbott stood to gain a whole lot more by staying in the marriage. “This is about revenge.”

  “I’m with you,” Falco chimed in. “She was attempting to avenge her sister’s death—assuming the sister is dead. So she put herself in the path of a good old Alabama boy. One from Birmingham—the scene of the crime.”

  “Not just any good old boy,” Kerri argued.

  “Right. Right. A rich one whose family is connected to the Thompsons.”

  “She inserted herself into the lives of the elite, all of whom are friends of the Abbott family. Makes a name for herself in fundraising—an unavoidable facet of life for anyone dragging in the big bucks or enjoying old family money. It makes them feel better about their abundance to donate to the less fortunate.”

  “But who’s the mark, Devlin? We can assume Old Man Thompson, since the sister worked for him, but that might not be the case. Obviously, it’s someone with money and power, or she wouldn’t have had to go to all the trouble of luring in Ben Abbott for a husband. But there’s a lot of rich folks in Birmingham. How do we figure out for sure which one was or is the real target? I think we can pretty much rule out the husband since he was off getting all those fancy degrees when Janelle Stevens disappeared.”

  Kerri stared at the photos of the players—both dead and alive—lined up on their case board. “Part of figuring out who was involved depends on the lab results. If we’re right, and the blood on the bed came from the mother, we’ll know the wife set up at least part of the crime scene. She bought that car. Getaway car?” Kerri shrugged. “Maybe. Makes sense. I can’t think of any other reason. If she’d wanted to donate a car to some worthy cause or person, she would have been better off buying a nicer one for the ten K she spent. Giving someone a junker doesn’t feel like her style.”

  “I think we can assume the car was for her.” Falco laced his fingers behind his head, leaned back, and propped his feet on his desk. “The problem is the old Stevens case file doesn’t give us a whole lot. The two detectives who worked on the case have since passed. All we know is where she worked and lived. Since she lived in an apartment building that no longer exists—it’s a mall now—we haven’t been able to locate any old neighbors to interview. We got nothing except that she worked for the Thompsons—who are connected to the Abbotts.”

  Kerri checked her phone. “Bellemont still hasn’t called back.”

  They had called him again when they’d left the Abbotts. His vehicle hadn’t been at his office when they’d driven by, so they’d gone to his home. His wife had said he was at work. Maybe work was at a client’s house today. Or maybe he’d gotten smart and hidden his vehicle.

  “He’s putting together his story,” Falco said. “That’s what lawyers do. Old Man Abbott has no doubt already called and told him what we’re up to. The two are probably trying to work out a story to cover their asses for not telling us this shit up front. That’s what people who have something to hide do. Trust me. I know this from personal experience.”

  She told herself to stay out of personal territory, but she couldn’t do it. He was right. It was late. It was Sunday. Well past time to go home, and she was suddenly sick of rehashing the disjointed fragments they had raked together.

  “Why did you give up everything, Falco?”

  He held her gaze for three seconds . . . five seconds . . . ten. By the time he spoke, she had decided he wasn’t going to answer.

  “Because I wasn’t fit to be a part of it.”

  Somehow this idea of selflessness got to her. Made her want to know things. Exhaustion really was playing with her tonight. “Why weren’t you fit? Because your father abused you?”

  “That was part of it.” He closed his eyes for a moment before he opened them again. “I was undercover for a long time. It was my thing. I was really, really good at it. But I had to go deeper and deeper to get what we needed.” He shrugged. “I ended up in too deep. Drugs became a part of who I was. I . . .” He exhaled a big breath. “I became like them. I lived, I breathed, I killed . . . just like them.”

  Surprise, regret, sympathy all seared through her so quickly her heart couldn’t pound fast enough to catch up. “But you came through in the end.” She was certain of it. He wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise. “Right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. My loyalties were never in question. It was my obsession with doing what no one else had done that became the problem. With going where no one else had gone. My determination not to fail at bringing down a legend. To be a better cop than my father. It almost killed me. It took everything in this world that meant anything from me. Except the job. The job is all I have. It’s all I am.”

  Legend. Headlines scrolled through her head. “Oh my God. You’re talking about the Bayards case. Down in Mobile. You were there before you came here?”

  The case had been national news for weeks. The Bayard brothers, Kurt and Sullivan, had been running the biggest drug operation in the history of the area. No one—and plenty had tried—had ever been able to tie the two to anything other than real estate. Big real estate, all over the Southeast. The brothers had set up a near-impenetrable cover.

  “That investigation took years,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Wow.” She stared at him with a new kind of respect. “I can’t imagine how you pulled that off.”

  “We can’t talk about this, Devlin.”

  The sadness, emptiness in his eyes took her breath. She held up her hands. “I understand. I guess I thought your career in law enforcement started in Birmingham just five years ago.”

  He shook his head. “Try nine years before I came back here.”

  Shock rumbled through her as she did the math. “You went straight from the academy into undercover work?”

  “Never went to the academy.”

  Wait. That wasn’t possible. “You’re yanking my chain, right?”

  “I attended a special training program, and then I went straight to work. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “You were undercover on that operation for nine years?”

  Before he could or would answer, her cell vibrated. The area code was a California one. “This is probably that professor.”

  Falco looked more than a little relieved to be moving on.

  “Devlin.” She put the call on speaker.

  “This is Carlos Percy. You left a message about Sela Rollins?”

  Kerri explained the situation to the degree possible. “We’re wondering if you may have heard from her?”

  “This is terrible news, but to answer your question, no. I haven’t heard from her in years. Not since she moved from San Diego. I had no idea she’d gotten married and moved to Alabama.”

  “Can you tell me about Sela when she was your student? We’re hoping information from her past will help us with what’s happening now.”

  “She was a very dedicated student. Keenly interested in criminal investigation.”

  “Is that the course you taught?”

  “It is. In fact, my course focused on the lengths to which criminals will go to avoid leaving evidence. Sela was the best student I had. She became very good at planning a crime from the perpetrator’s perspective. She was particularly skilled at taking a situation and figuring out a way to work around it.” He laughed. “I told her she would be the best detective on whatever force she joined or a damned clever criminal.”

  This news was tipping the scale. “Do you have any idea where Sela went after graduating?”

  He was silent for a moment. “You know, her mother had quite a number of health issues. I’ll never forget how devastated Sela was when the cancer diagnosis came.” He made a sound as if he were thinking back through the years. “I recall her mentioning some hospital in Mexico where they planned to go for a while. I believe it was in Mexico City. Of course, I have no idea if they actually went.”

  Kerri met Falco’s gaze. She imagined they were both thinking the same thing. Cancer. Expired medications. Kerri suddenly wondered if Sela had ever told anyone the truth.

  “I appreciate your help, Professor Percy. I may need to call you again if I have other questions.”

  “Don’t hesitate. I’m more than happy to help. I hope the situation is resolved quickly and Sela is found safe and sound.”

  Kerri hoped so too. The only question was, Would they be rescuing her or arresting her? At this point, her money was on the latter.

  When the call ended, her partner held up his phone. “I just ordered pizza. I’ve got a feeling we’ll be here for a while.”

  “Oh yeah,” Kerri agreed.

  She was beginning to believe that no one really knew Sela Rollins Abbott, particularly not her husband.

  29

  So, so many secrets.

  They will never uncover them all.

  There are so very many. The vast number was essential to ultimate success. Some were simply unavoidable.

  I covered my tracks extremely carefully. They will not be able to find the answers they seek in time to stop what has begun.

  They will try.

  The struggles to stop me will be mighty.

  But they will all be too late.

  My only worry is that they will do harm to the one person I have trusted completely. It’s time for me to let go of my final connection to this life that is no longer mine and to her. For her safety there must be no further contact. She must move on with her life and forget about me.

  I work the ropes, back and forth, back and forth.

  My one misstep in my hasty escape that awful morning has been rectified. Who knew I would need the weapon for this stage? If they thought I wouldn’t notice what they had done, they were so very wrong. I know exactly what they did, and it will be part of their undoing in the end.

  I’ve even left a clue, if anyone cares to notice.

  Before this is done I will have their full attention.

  30

  Monday, June 11

  7:00 a.m.

  Devlin Residence

  Twenty-First Avenue South

  Kerri glanced at the digital clock on the microwave as she downed her second cup of coffee. Falco would be here soon. There were forty-odd pawnshops in the greater Birmingham area. Not all sold weapons, but more than thirty did. They intended to visit each one in an effort to determine if Sela Abbott had purchased a weapon—specifically a .22 pistol. The lab had sent the ballistics report to Kerri’s email at six this morning.

  The .22 used to kill Jacqueline Rollins and Ben Abbott was the same weapon. There were no weapons registered to Ben or Sela. None to Jacqueline Rollins. The murder weapon had been brought into the house by the shooter. Considering Sela had purchased a potential getaway car and mentioned having a problem to Keaton, it was reasonable to follow up on the possibility that she had armed herself as well.

  Kerri still wasn’t all in with the theory that the wife was their shooter, but she couldn’t ignore the probability that she was involved somehow. Too many of those fragments they continued to find kept pointing back to the missing wife.

  Since her daughter obviously wasn’t coming out of her room before Kerri left, she decided to go up and tell her to have a nice day. The silent treatment had gone on long enough. Though most teenagers slept late every chance they got, Tori was usually up by seven even on weekends.

  Maybe she’d decided it was easier to ignore her mother if she stayed in her room.

  Kerri topped the stairs and walked to her daughter’s door. She knocked and then opened the door. “I have to go, kiddo.”

  The bed was empty. The covers spread smoothly and the pillows piled against the headboard. That was another thing about Tori: she always made her bed.

  Kerri glanced across the hall at the open bathroom door.

  Where was she?

  Panic started its steady climb up her backbone. She rushed to her bedroom and checked her unmade bed and then her bathroom. No Tori.

  The third-bedroom-turned-office-for-Kerri was empty.

  She dashed back downstairs to see if maybe her daughter had fallen asleep on the sofa and Kerri had failed to notice. She wasn’t exactly at the top of her game in the mornings until after a sufficient amount of coffee had been consumed.

  No Tori in the living room.

  Fear slammed into her chest. Had Nick, the bastard, dared to drive all the way here and pick her up?

  Not reasonable. Think!

  Kerri grabbed her cell and called Tori’s. Straight to voice mail. Her heart pounding, she called Amelia.

  Voice mail.

  “Shit!”

  Her cell rang, and a trickle of relief gave Kerri the ability to breathe again. Not Tori or Amelia.

  “What?” she demanded of her partner.

  “Whoa. Just calling to let you know I’m out here.”

  “I can’t find my—” An incoming text snagged her attention. “I’ll be right out,” she said to Falco.

  She ended the call and stared at the text from Amelia.

  Sorry at work. Something wrong?

  Tori is missing! Even as she typed and sent the words, Kerri’s heart threatened to burst from her chest.

  No! She’s ok. She spent the night with me. I’m sorry. Thought you knew. Left her asleep in my bed.

  Kerri leaned against the wall to brace herself. She drew in a deep breath, ordered her heart to slow.

  Ok. Thanks. She and I haven’t been talking much lately.

  She’s just confused. She loves you. I remember 13. It sucked.

  Kerri managed a smile. Love you!

  Ditto! <3

  Pushing away from the wall, Kerri turned off the coffee maker and took a couple more deep breaths.

  She had no idea how Diana survived with three kids.

  On the way out the door, she made a call to Diana just to confirm that Tori was still there. Diana assured Kerri she was and promised to see that she got home safely. She reminded Kerri that Tori had come for dinner last night. Since Kerri still hadn’t been home at eight, Tori had asked to spend the night, and Diana had agreed. She hadn’t realized Tori had failed to inform her mom.

  Kerri felt like kicking herself as she slid into the passenger seat of Falco’s car. She should have remembered her daughter’s plans—especially plans she had helped to make—and maybe she wouldn’t have freaked out. When she’d arrived home last night at eleven o’clock, she’d stood outside Tori’s door but decided not to knock since she was likely already asleep. She should have opened the door. Should have checked then.

  What if Tori had been missing?

  Kerri had allowed this case to take over her life. She knew better. The truth was, since the divorce it was easier that way.

  Anger at her own selfish actions roared through her. How could she accuse Nick of only thinking of himself when she was doing the same thing?

  “Good morning to you too, Devlin.”

  Dragging her attention back to the here and now, she grunted a skeptical sound and focused on slowing her pounding heart. “We’ll see.”

  “Still no transactions on the accounts at the local banks or on the credit cards,” he announced. “If our missing wife is alive, she definitely planned for all her needs, including cash. Cell carrier finally came through with her records. I skimmed those at the office this morning. Nothing except calls to her husband and other known folks listed in her contacts. No calls or texts since Tuesday night.”