“How easy for you to say,” Lewis sneered. “Of course you’re not like me. You’ve never had to be. You’ve always had either your father or me to clean up your messes. Don’t you dare look down your nose at me, you fucking coward. I only do what needs to be done because you aren’t man enough.”

  Fury whipped through Theo. “There must have been another way then and now.”

  “Certainly, there was and is. You could learn to keep your dick in your pants.”

  He spat the words at Theo. He felt the force like a slap to his face.

  “What?” Lewis demanded. “You have nothing to say to that?”

  There was plenty he wanted to say, but now wasn’t the time. This thing had to be handled, and Lewis was the only person who could do the job right.

  “That’s what I thought,” Lewis mused. “Now, listen to me, and this time do as I say. First, the situation is under control. Those detectives won’t be bothering you anymore. You have nothing to worry about. Now, go back to your office, or go home. No getting agitated or nervous. This will all be over soon.”

  The phone on his desk buzzed, and Lewis picked up the receiver. “Yes.”

  Theo tried to calm himself. Lewis wasn’t the enemy. Theo was his own worst enemy. He needed Lewis if he hoped to get through this. God knew he would never manage alone. He’d never been good at this sort of thing.

  “Give me five minutes before you send him back,” Lewis instructed the caller. When he replaced the receiver in its cradle, he stared at Theo for a long moment. “We will survive this, just as we have survived all other hurdles before this one.”

  Theo managed a nod. “It’s just that with the election, this is not a good time for trouble.”

  “Trust me,” Lewis said. “It’s all under control, and I will take care of that whore you’ve been playing with.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Really Theo wasn’t a coward. He just wasn’t built like Lewis.

  “Do not go near your whore again, and whatever you do, don’t get cornered by those detectives. Just stay calm, and carry on with whatever events you have scheduled this weekend. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  Theo nodded stiffly. “And what are you going to do?”

  “You don’t need to know anything beyond the fact that I will get this done. Do we understand each other?”

  Theo blinked away the image of Jen dead. “All right.”

  “You should go. I have another appointment.”

  Theo stood.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Lewis assured him, “and we’ll finish this.”

  Theo gave another of those stiff nods and walked out.

  He was halfway to the elevator when the doors glided open, and Robert Swanner emerged. Theo slowed his pace, pretended to check his phone until the other man had passed him. Then Theo turned around and followed him at a safe distance. The man practically twisted the knob off the door and walked right into Lewis’s office, slamming the door behind him. This could only be more trouble.

  Theo moved close enough to the door to hear the man’s raised voice.

  “Where is my daughter?”

  “Your daughter has not been to work all week. I have no idea where she is. I would think a good father would have that answer.”

  “You think I don’t know what’s going on here, you bastard?”

  “Control yourself, or I will call security and have you removed, Mr. Swanner.”

  “Call them,” Swanner dared. “Go ahead and call the police while you’re at it. Let’s tell them about that night fifteen years ago when you came to me, begging for help with the repairs to your car.”

  Lewis laughed. Theo flinched. What the hell was Swanner talking about?

  “I came to you, but I don’t recall begging. I believe you were the one only too happy to accept a payoff of your defaulted loan. Shall we share that with the police as well?”

  Theo leaned against the wall, his heart thundering. How many others knew?

  “I swear to God,” Swanner said, “if you have harmed my daughter—”

  “Whatever has happened to your daughter,” Lewis said, cutting him off, “is as much your doing as anyone else’s, Mr. Swanner. Before you dare to come in here threatening me, remember that you have two other children and a wife. Perhaps you will do a better job taking care of them.”

  For a single moment Theo could not move, even as his instincts screamed at him to go. Fifteen years ago . . . after she had vanished, he recalled distinctly a car having to be repaired after hitting a deer. But it wasn’t Lewis’s car.

  Theo pushed away from the wall and hurried as fast as he could without breaking into a run. He stabbed the call button for the elevator and prayed it would arrive and take him away before Swanner left Lewis’s office and caught up with him.

  The bell dinged, and the doors opened. He relaxed a fraction as he stepped inside and pushed the button for the lobby. He moved to the back of the car and leaned against the wall as the doors started to close.

  Thank God.

  At the last possible second, an arm suddenly thrust between the doors, and they slid apart. Swanner stepped inside and glanced at the keypad. As the doors closed again, he moved to the opposite back corner and leaned against the wall.

  Theo stared straight ahead.

  He practically held his breath until the car bumped to a stop at the lobby level.

  Rather than wait for the doors to open, he moved forward and waited so close to the doors that his nose nearly touched the cool steel.

  When the doors slid apart, Theo shot out like a racehorse exiting the gate. He walked straight up to the reception desk and fished for his phone to give Swanner time to exit the building.

  He was not cut out for this kind of shit.

  The receptionist smiled at him. “May I help you, Mr. Thompson?”

  He shook his head and spoke the most truthful words he had ever uttered. “I don’t think anyone can help me.”

  He left the building and considered the consequences of simply running away . . . or exiting this nightmare some other more permanent way.

  Lewis was right. He was a coward. He’d always been one.

  56

  3:30 p.m.

  Birmingham Police Department

  First Avenue North

  They stood on the street. Kerri and this new partner of hers. She glanced at him. His hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped like someone had kicked his dog.

  He turned to her. “What’re you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we were escorted here like a couple of common criminals.” She glanced up at the revered building that had been her second home for better than a decade. Fury ignited anew inside her. “We were forced to wait a half hour while the chief did whatever he did.”

  Seriously. They had been dragged to his office, and the man had them twiddling their thumbs for thirty damned minutes.

  She reached for calm. Falco waited patiently for her to find it and continue.

  “Then he rakes us over the coals about how we’ve made the whole department look bad by bullying esteemed citizens like Thompson and York.”

  Breathe.

  “He didn’t mince words, partner,” Falco pointed out. “If we even breathe close to Thompson or York, we get suspended or worse. We can’t talk to them. We can’t . . .” He blew out a big breath. “Do shit.”

  The part that pissed Kerri off the most was that the LT hadn’t said a word. He had simply sat there, deferring to the boss.

  Kerri shook her head. She couldn’t blame him. Why should he jeopardize his career for two detectives going rogue on him without any real evidence to back up their accusations?

  “I know what I have to do.” There was no question in Kerri’s mind. There was a very strong possibility that her niece was tangled up in this somehow. She could not—would not—back off. They were too close to finding the truth. She turned to her partner. “I have to finish this, Falco. I don’t want you to do anything to risk your career. Just because I’m willing to gamble with mine doesn’t mean you have to do the same. I’ll understand if you’re out. I’ve got this.”

  He stared at her as she spoke. “Miss By-the-Book-We-Have-Protocols is going to buck the chief of police?”

  “I am. You can go back in there and write up your report saying Sela Abbott killed her husband and some woman posing as her mother if you want to. Hell, she’s probably dead anyway. But I can’t do that.” She squared her shoulders. “It’s up to you. What do you say?”

  He shrugged. “I say fuck ’em. Let’s do this thing, Devlin.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  “But I’m driving. You’re too damned slow.”

  They had just climbed into his Charger when her cell vibrated. Kerri reached for it. Dispatch. “Devlin.”

  She listened as the officer on the other end of the line listed the location of a possible murder-suicide scene. “On my way,” she cut in without hearing the rest.

  She didn’t need any other details.

  She knew the victims.

  Abbott Residence

  Saint Charles Drive, Hoover

  The ME was already on the scene when Kerri and Falco arrived.

  Two police cruisers and the crime scene unit van were in the driveway. Yellow tape was being reeled along the front yard from one immaculately manicured shrub to the next.

  Officer Ted Olson met them at the door. “The bodies are in the family room.”

  Kerri and Falco donned shoe covers and gloves and headed to the room where they had met with Daniel and Tempest Abbott on two occasions. Dr. Moore was stooped over Mrs. Abbott’s body where she lay on the sofa. Daniel Abbott was sprawled facedown on the Persian rug.

  One step forward, two steps back. Damn.

  As Falco walked around the room, Kerri joined the ME. “Anything yet on cause of death?”

  “No visible injuries.” He pursed his lips a moment. “Considering the wineglass on the coffee table and the glass on the floor near the male victim, I’ll be testing for various poisons.”

  “What about time of death?” Kerri wondered if they searched the house if they’d find one damned thing to explain the connection between Daniel Abbott and Jacqueline Carter/Stevens/Rollins beyond what Cross had given them about the house.

  Probably not.

  “They haven’t been dead long. An hour, hour and a half. I’d estimate time of death somewhere between noon and two.”

  If they’d come here first—before the Thompson fiasco. Damn it!

  “Devlin!” Falco sent her a look.

  “Thanks, Dr. Moore.” Kerri pushed to her feet and went to the bar, where Falco waited. “You find something?”

  He pointed to a drawer he had opened beneath the bar top. Two small vials lay next to the hand towels folded there.

  “Looks like we have our answer.” She scanned the room, looking for any indication the couple had had company when their drinks had been served. “The only question is, Did one of them take this step, or was it someone else?”

  Despite her best efforts, Kerri’s mind went immediately to York, Thompson, and Sela Abbott—in that order.

  “Detectives.”

  Officer Olson joined them at the bar. “I spoke to Mr. Abbott’s receptionist at his office. She said his wife called at twelve thirty and asked him to come home.”

  Kerri looked to Falco, then said to Olson, “Call the security-monitoring company and find out if the Abbotts have cameras. We need to know if there was anyone here besides the wife when Mr. Abbott arrived. If they don’t, check with neighbors. Call in backup. We need at least two more officers interviewing the neighbors. If someone besides the Abbotts was at this house this afternoon, we need to know.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When Olson had walked away, Falco said, “I can’t decide if someone is tying up loose ends or taking out targets.”

  He was right. Particularly considering what they knew about Daniel Abbott’s obvious connection to Sela’s mother. Ramsey was still MIA. Keaton was dead. Maybe Sela was as well. Now these two. Who was next?

  The idea that Amelia could be on that list terrified Kerri.

  “Either way,” she decided, “I think we should be keeping an eye on the only other two suspects we have before they disappear or end up dead too.”

  “York and Thompson,” Falco agreed.

  Falco leaned his head toward hers and spoke quietly. “Those two will either be doing more of this”—he nodded to the room at large—“or ending up like this.”

  And if Amelia was involved in this, one or both likely knew where she was.

  She and Falco were out the door when Kerri’s cell went off again. She checked the screen.

  Jen.

  A new wave of worry washed over Kerri.

  O’Malley’s

  Morris Avenue

  At barely five o’clock O’Malley’s was already crowded. It was Friday; folks were ready to get their weekend started. Kerri scanned the bar and tables looking for Jen’s red hair.

  Jen had called and asked Kerri to meet her here. She’d insisted it was urgent. Couldn’t wait. It wasn’t like she and Falco had anything else to do. They were ten days in, and though they had gleaned a great number of details and had numerous theories, they basically had nothing that would push them to the next step—arrests.

  And the chief had just told them to stay clear of their prime suspects.

  They had both promptly decided to ignore the order.

  There was an upside to Jen’s call—it wasn’t about Diana or Amelia. No change there. As much as Kerri was desperate to find her niece, she was grateful there was no bad news just yet. Like the old saying, sometimes no news was good news.

  Just not for a homicide investigation.

  Kerri finally spotted Jen. She waited at a table in the darkest corner of the establishment and appeared to be halfway through a Long Island Iced Tea. She threw up her hand in a half-hearted wave. No matter what else was happening around her, Jen always looked expertly put together. From her hair to the sexy green stilettoes she wore, she could be a celebrity right here in Birmingham.

  As Kerri reached the table, Jen stood and leaned in for a hug. When they’d dropped into their chairs, Falco followed suit.

  “Jen, this is my partner, Luke Falco. Falco, Jen Whitten.”

  The woman who had been a part of her family for as long as Kerri could remember flashed one of her trademark bombshell smiles. “Very nice to meet you, Detective Falco.” She offered her hand.

  Falco gave it a shake. “Back at you, Jen.”

  “Kerri, there’s something . . .” Jen suddenly looked ready to crumble. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  “What’s going on?” Kerri reached for her hand and held it tightly in hers. She was just about maxed out with trouble.

  The waitress appeared, and Falco ordered a couple of beers.

  “I’ve been struggling with this since yesterday morning. I’ve had a bad feeling for days now, but I didn’t know how to tell you. Now I have no choice.”

  “Just tell me, Jen. Whatever’s going on, we’ll work it out.”

  Jen moistened her lips and took a breath. “It’s about Theo Thompson.”

  Kerri frowned. Of all the potential issues that had gone through her mind, that wasn’t one of them. “How do you know Thompson other than on the news? Is this something you overheard at work?”

  Jen downed the last of her drink, then hugged her arms around her waist. “Theo and I have been involved for two years.”

  Kerri drew back slightly at the idea. Jen? A woman Kerri knew as well as her own sister was somehow involved with the prime suspect in this investigation. She didn’t understand. “Involved how?”

  Her gaze downcast, Jen said, “An affair.”

  Kerri absorbed the impact of her words, the meaning quaking all the way through her. “Go on.”

  “For the past week or two, he’s been acting strange. At first I thought it was just stress about the campaign, but then I overheard a couple of phone conversations that made me uncomfortable.”

  “Were they from his wife?” Kerri tasted the bitterness of her sharply spoken words. Of all people, Jen understood what Kerri had gone through with her cheating ex. She mentally blocked the thought. She had to hear her out, for more reasons than one.

  Jen shook her head, swiped at her eyes. “I don’t know who he was talking to, but there was trouble. Something bad.”

  Disappointment pulsed through Kerri. “Unless you have something criminal to share, I’m not sure I’m the person you should be talking to.”

  When she would have pushed out of her chair, Jen blurted, “He was at that house on Wednesday night. The one that burned.”

  Kerri froze. “How do you know this?”

  “I was with him.” Jen moistened her lips again, twiddled with the straw in her empty glass. “We were going out that night, and he got a call. He was extremely upset by the caller. He told me he had to meet someone to take care of a problem. When we got to the house”—she drew in a deep breath—“he told me to wait in the car.”

  “Who was he meeting?” Kerri waited for her answer, the thundering in her chest refusing to quiet.

  Jen stared directly at her then. “Lewis York.”

  Son of a bitch. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before now?”

  “I meant to,” Jen cried. “I started to call you a dozen times, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  Kerri restrained the emotional words she wanted to hurl across the table. She reached deep inside herself and grabbed on to the training and experience that made her a damned good detective. “Tell me exactly what happened and every word you heard the two of them say.”

  This could be crucial to their case.

  Through bouts of tears and with the aid of another drink, Jen explained what she had seen and heard that night. When she stopped talking, she dropped her gaze to the table once more.