Kerri’s heart twisted. Tori’s inability to meet her mother’s gaze warned this was not entirely accurate. “Take your time,” she said softly. “Who was with you, besides Brendal?”

  Tori’s thin body jerked at the mention of Brendal’s name. “Is she going to be all right?”

  Kerri gave it to her straight. “I don’t know. Sykes said she was critically injured. We’ll have to wait and see what the doctors say.”

  Tori swiped at her eyes, then met her mother’s gaze. “Sarah, Alice, and I were coming down the stairs, headed to our next class, when we ran into Brendal on the landing. She was going upstairs for science.”

  The ceilings were high in this historic building, which made the staircase from the first floor to the second a double set. At the midway point there was a landing with windows that overlooked the center courtyard.

  “What happened then?” Kerri coaxed.

  “The same thing Brendal always does.” Tori bit down on her lower lip to stop its quivering. “She makes fun of everyone. She’s a serious bully.” She shrugged. “I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted her to get hurt in a million years, but she’s so mean to anyone she feels is beneath her—which is most of the other girls in our class. She’s always been that way, but she’s worse now.”

  Kerri and Tori had talked about bullies at length many times. Whenever there was an incident at a school anywhere, they had the talk. There was so much more that needed to be done to stop this sort of thing, but Kerri wasn’t going to pretend to have the answer. It was an ugly problem without an easy or quick resolution.

  “Was Brendal bullying you?” Kerri couldn’t help holding her breath. Though Tori hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort, she might be less inclined to share with her mom, being a full-fledged teenager now. Adolescents didn’t always share everything with their parents during this often-difficult phase in their lives.

  “She treated me no differently than she did everyone else.” Tori let go a long breath. “Lately, it was Sarah she really went after.”

  This was news to Kerri. Sarah Talley had been Tori’s best friend since kindergarten. Sarah was shy and quiet. Never got into trouble. Always an honor student, like Tori. Kerri was surprised Sarah’s mother hadn’t tried to intervene.

  But then maybe Sarah hadn’t told her mother.

  Before Kerri asked the really painful question, she ventured into less delicate territory. “Alice is the new girl who started Brighton this semester? The one you spent the night with a couple of times?”

  Tori nodded. “Alice Cortez. Remember she moved from Mexico last year, like August, I think. Her parents died, and an uncle took her in. She went to another school before this one, but it didn’t work out.”

  Kerri remembered Tori coming home all upset and sharing the sad story the first day of school right after the semester break. She’d taken it upon herself to befriend the new girl when others weren’t so quick to do so.

  “Was Brendal bullying Alice too?”

  Tori shook her head. “Alice ignored her. It was mostly Sarah she’d been hounding really hard lately.” Tori averted her gaze, stared at her hands. “That’s all I know.”

  Kerri recognized the lack of truth in her daughter’s final statement. Tori wasn’t a very good liar. Or maybe Kerri’s skills at spotting an untruth were just particularly well honed. Either way, there was more.

  “I understand this is difficult,” Kerri assured her. “I also know how it feels to want to protect someone you care about. But sometimes you can’t do that. Protecting someone is different from covering for them. Which girl are you trying to protect?”

  Tori clasped her hands together in her lap. When she finally lifted her gaze to Kerri’s, more tears flowed in little salty rivers. “I swear I don’t know if anyone pushed her. I know I didn’t, but I was so focused on how Brendal was lashing out that I can’t be sure who did what. It all happened really fast.”

  Kerri nodded slowly. “All right. If you didn’t see what happened, I can understand your hesitation to hazard a guess.”

  Tori peered up at her again. “I swear I can’t be sure.” She glanced around the room before meeting Kerri’s gaze once more. “I wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble unless I’m certain.”

  Kerri squeezed her daughter’s hand. “If you’re not certain,” she said carefully, “then you shouldn’t say one way or the other. What did you tell Detective Peterson and Mrs. Leary?”

  “I told them the same thing I told you. I don’t know who pushed her or if anyone did. I was watching Brendal’s rant, and suddenly she was going backward. Her back was to the steps going down. Maybe she backed up or leaned the wrong way and lost her balance. Maybe it wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

  Kerri nodded, mostly for her daughter’s benefit. “That’s possible. There wasn’t anyone else in the halls? A teacher or another student who might have seen something?”

  Tori moved her head side to side. “The bell had already rung.”

  Not the answer she’d hoped for. Kerri tried to think of any other possibilities. Janitor? Librarian? Another student late for class? But why wouldn’t they have come forward?

  Because there was no one else. Kerri felt the additional weight settle on her shoulders.

  “What’s going to happen now?” The fear in Tori’s eyes twisted Kerri’s emotions to the snapping point.

  “Stay here for a moment while I speak to the other detectives.” Kerri stood and turned toward the door.

  “I just want to go home,” Tori whispered, her eyes squeezing shut against the new flood of tears.

  “I’ll take you home as soon as I can,” Kerri promised.

  She stepped out of Leary’s office, closing the door behind her. Sykes, Peterson, and Leary were crowded into the tiny waiting room. No doubt straining to hear through the wall.

  “Did she tell you anything?” Sykes wanted to know.

  Kerri shook her head. “She didn’t see what triggered the fall. She was looking directly at Brendal, and suddenly she was tumbling backward.”

  Peterson nodded. “That’s the story she’s stuck with from the beginning.”

  Kerri wanted to tear off his head and spit down his throat. “Have you considered she might be sticking with it because it’s the truth?”

  Sykes held up a hand before Peterson could spout whatever had his face turning an unpleasant shade of reddish purple. “The trouble is, Devlin,” he said in a weary voice, “that’s what all three of them are saying. Having one girl not be sure is to be expected, but all three?”

  The knot reappeared in her gut. “Sarah and Alice have already been interviewed as well?”

  Sykes nodded. “Mrs. Talley was in a PTA meeting in the cafeteria. The Cortez girl’s guardian came immediately when we called. You’re the only one we had trouble reaching.”

  “Funny,” Kerri tossed back at him, “I don’t have any missed calls from you.”

  Sykes and Peterson exchanged a glance; then both men shrugged.

  Didn’t matter. Kerri knew exactly what had happened. Or, more accurately, what hadn’t happened. “So, Tori was the only one questioned without a parent or legal representation present?”

  Sykes and Peterson shared another look.

  “I am so sorry,” Leary said. “Detective Sykes—”

  Kerri held up a hand to the other woman. “I’m aware of what happened.” She turned to Sykes. “You have my daughter’s statement. I’m taking her home.”

  Sykes and Peterson started to argue. Kerri ignored them. Before she walked away, another thought occurred to her, and she turned to Leary once more. “This is one of the premier private schools in the state. Sending my daughter here costs a lot of money. Are there no cameras in the halls?”

  A new kind of outrage roared through Kerri. This should not have happened, but since it had, where had all the teachers been? Had no one been watching four girls who were obviously late for their next class? One of whom was yelling at the others? And there were cameras. She knew this, but the realization had only just now plowed through all the emotional junk clouding her brain.

  Leary seemed to struggle to find the wherewithal to answer the question. “There are cameras. Yes.”

  “We’ve already reviewed the footage,” Sykes explained. “The positioning of the camera on this first floor is so that the coverage stops at the top of that first landing. All we can see are the girls’ feet. We can’t tell who did what. The camera on the second floor reaches onto that same landing but on the other side. There’s nothing useful on that footage either.”

  A shroud of frustration closed in around Kerri. “We’re leaving. When you want to speak to my daughter again, you ask me first.”

  She ignored the detectives’ complaints and went into the room where Tori waited. “Let’s go.”

  Tori grabbed her backpack from the floor and followed her mother.

  In the corridor, Mr. Foster was speaking quietly with Sarah Talley’s mother. Sarah clung to her mother like a terrified toddler. If Renae Talley noticed Kerri and Tori exiting, she gave no indication.

  Kerri had no idea where the third girl, Alice Cortez, was. Maybe in the other counselor’s office. There were two available at all times.

  Tori stared at Sarah, but the girl never looked her way.

  “Come on.” Kerri put her arm through her daughter’s. “We’ll get this figured out.”

  Outside, two uniforms were attempting to hold back the reporters who had descended on the scene like a committee of vultures desperate for the remnants of the tragedy. Kerri ushered Tori to the passenger side of her vehicle and hoped like hell the reporters didn’t capture a photo of her. She did not want Tori to be the face of this tragedy.

  When they reached the street, Kerri turned right without stopping. The reporters had already surged in that direction, but she got away before they managed to reach her vehicle. As a detective Kerri had encountered most of the reporters more than once, and, unfortunately, she was the only detective who drove a vintage Jeep Wagoneer. It wouldn’t take a resourceful reporter long to figure out who had driven away in the vehicle. Even less time would be required to determine that Kerri had a daughter who attended this school.

  She silently swore at herself for hanging on to this damned thing all these years.

  “What do we do now?”

  Tori’s voice sounded so small Kerri wanted to pull her into her arms and rock her the way she had when she was a baby. “We’re going home. Sykes and Peterson will sort this out. They’re good detectives.” She said this despite how pissed she was at the two of them just now.

  Tori stared out the window. Kerri wished she could reassure her that this would be over soon, and all would be fine. But she wouldn’t lie to her daughter. It would take time, and the process would be painful. If the Myers girl died, things would get exponentially worse.

  Bully or not, Kerri prayed the girl pulled through. No matter that she was mean, she didn’t deserve to die as penance. No parent should have to suffer through that kind of loss. Kerri had watched what it had done to her sister and her brother-in-law. She wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.

  Her cell vibrated and she considered ignoring it, but it could be Falco. She’d promised to call him. She fished for the phone in her pocket, checked the screen. Falco’s face flashed there as another insistent ring vibrated the device.

  “I’m leaving the school now,” she said rather than hello.

  “Is our girl okay?”

  Falco and Tori were close. That was something else Kerri appreciated about her partner. Tori’s father, Nick Jackman, had moved to New York and started a new family with his second wife—the woman with whom he’d cheated on Kerri. Tori had desperately needed someone to fill the void he’d left. Falco had stepped up to the plate. Kerri couldn’t ask for a better surrogate father for her daughter. Especially since she didn’t have the time or the inclination for any sort of relationship other than family and work.

  Not that she would anyway. Allowing herself to trust someone that deeply ever again wasn’t very likely in the foreseeable future.

  “She’s okay. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Got it.” He cleared his throat. “I know you have your hands full, but we have a development here.”

  Kerri took a moment to reorient her thoughts. She rarely permitted her mind to shift so fully from a case. “You found a witness?”

  “Nope, but I found Walsh’s cell phone. It was tucked into his sock like a backup piece.”

  Smart guy. That said, sometimes intelligence wasn’t enough to keep you alive. “And?”

  “The last call Walsh made was to a number I recognized.”

  Kerri braked at an intersection and waited for her partner to say the rest.

  “Cross,” Falco announced. “Our dead DDA spoke to Cross at ten o’clock last night.”

  Sadie Cross. Now there was a surprising turn of events. Cross was a former BPD detective. She’d worked for the department for more than a dozen years, and then she’d walked away. Everyone said she hadn’t been the same since that last undercover operation. She’d gone missing for nearly a year and come back with no memory of what had happened to her during that time and very little recall of the events that had occurred while she was under deep cover for the four months prior to vanishing. Cross was an odd sort. She rubbed Kerri the wrong way.

  But Kerri owed her.

  Whatever Cross had to do with this double homicide, Kerri had no choice but to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. She damned sure had no right to cast the first stone.

  “You talked to her already?”

  “We should do this in person. I can go without you, if that would be better under the circumstances.”

  “No. You’re right. We should talk to her together. I’ll pick you up.” Diana, Kerri’s sister, was always more than happy to spend time with Tori. Kerri glanced at her daughter. “I’ll drop Tori by Diana’s for a little while.”

  Tori looked at her. She didn’t say a word, but the unspoken demand was written all over her face.

  You’re going to leave your traumatized daughter to work on a case?

  What kind of mother did that?

  4

  12:30 p.m.

  Sadie’s Loft

  Sixth Avenue, Twenty-Seventh Street

  Birmingham

  Sadie stared at the news flashing on the screen. There had been a double homicide at Leo’s. The victims’ names hadn’t been released yet. Sadie didn’t need anyone to tell her what had happened.

  Walsh was dead.

  He’d said they would talk this morning about what he’d learned in his meeting with Kurtz, but he hadn’t called. There was no need for her to try calling him. He was dead. She knew it. The only way he wouldn’t have called or shown up this morning was if he was dead.

  “Son of a bitch!” She clicked the remote, turning the television screen to black.

  She had told him. Damn it. She’d told him more than once. This thing he wanted to do was not a good idea. Not for someone like him. He didn’t know how to dive into the deep water like this without ending up shark bait. He didn’t have the experience. Just a lot of ambition and fearlessness.

  Idiot.

  Sadie closed her eyes and blocked the image of his face. Too damned young to die. He wasn’t even thirty. So damned determined to be the big hero.

  “I’m the perfect example of how that shit works out,” she muttered.

  Now the cops would be crawling all over her ass. She’d been extremely careful—as always. No phone calls unless they used burner phones. No emails or text messages. They’d met in private. No one could know she had spoken to him, and yet there would be no way to hide that fact after what he’d done.

  He’d called her last night from his personal cell phone. She’d jumped his shit, but he’d been too excited to care. He was close, he’d said. Kurtz had agreed to talk with other small, independent business owners he’d suspected were dealing with the same concerns. More importantly, Kurtz had found a potential source they were going to confront.

  Now Walsh was dead.

  The investigating detectives would find the call. No matter if Walsh deleted the call and her number from his call log; they would find it in his phone records.

  What she needed was a logical explanation for why he had called her. A call to a wrong number wouldn’t have lasted three minutes or so.

  Damn it!

  Sadie grabbed her smokes from the table and tapped one out. She tucked it into the corner of her mouth and flicked her lighter. Savoring a long drag, Sadie allowed the chemicals to fill her lungs with the comforting promise only nicotine could make. She didn’t worry about lung cancer. It wasn’t like she was going to have a long and prosperous life. It was a miracle she wasn’t already dead.

  Plenty had tried to make her that way. Not that she cared. She didn’t. Another day lived was another day she had to find ways to distract herself from the bits and pieces of the past that haunted her. She wasn’t suicidal or anything. She just didn’t care. She was done.

  Done. Done. Done.

  Her father slipped into her thoughts, and she dismissed him. He’d given up on her long ago. They hadn’t spoken in what? A year? He’d likely be happy once she was out of the way. Then he wouldn’t have to be disappointed in her anymore. She couldn’t screw up her life any worse if she were dead. She could no longer embarrass him. His life would certainly be less complicated.

  Are you married? No, no, I’m a widower. Any children? No, no children. My only daughter passed away.

  How nice that would be for him. He wouldn’t have to explain who his daughter was. Where she lived. What she had done since quitting the Birmingham Police Department. The only question that might crop up was how she’d died. He wasn’t above making something up to cover that detail. Cancer like her poor mother? Hit and run? Robbery gone wrong?

  But she wasn’t dead.

  Truth was she didn’t really understand why. She should have died the day she vanished all those years ago or on any number of other occasions before and since. She’d taken a bullet more than once. Had multiple car accidents—usually while chasing bad guys. Somehow, she had survived them all.