Jessica had hated it. Nothing she did, even marriage, had changed the way she was viewed. Her husband wanted more money, a larger house in a more coveted location. He nagged at her about asking for raises. Hounded her about having kids before her eggs all dried up. She was nothing but a means to an end.

  Then Jarrod had entered the picture. Charming. Relaxed. Handsome. He’d started flirting with Jessica right from the beginning. That was when her plan took shape.

  Getting involved with him had been the best thing to happen to her. He’d thought he had her fooled and that she knew nothing of his past. But she had known everything. He was the one who had been fooled. Their tight little group had gone after him for what he had done to poor, tragic Nora Duncan.

  Jessica smiled to herself. He had chosen the wrong woman to take advantage of when he picked out Nora. Taking down men like Jarrod was Ellen’s one and only hobby. They had dug and dug until they had uncovered all his scams. Though Ellen and the others enjoyed their little side job immensely, they were always very careful to choose only those who deserved to fall the most. No one ever died, of course. Or even went to jail. How boring was that.

  But this time had been different. This time Jessica saw an opportunity. Her little affair with Jarrod had shown her there was more to life than work and ambition. She’d wanted more. She’d wanted to escape. So she’d made him see how taking a measly little million or two was simply poor form. That would never have been enough for Jessica. She had played him perfectly, and Ellen had hardly suspected a thing.

  But there was Lena, Jarrod’s longtime partner.

  Jessica cut her a look from the corner of her eye. She was attractive in a plain sort of way. Leading her along had been relatively easy. She’d grown tired of Jarrod and his scams. He’d changed, Lena said. After the Duncan ordeal she’d wanted out. Jessica had shown her how they could escape together. The memories twitched her lips. She’d shown dear, unsuspecting Lena how the good life really looked. She’d wanted it, would do anything for it . . . even kill the man in their way.

  She’d done it before. But it hadn’t been necessary in this case. Jessica had wanted to do it herself. But she’d made sure the world would believe it was Lena. In fact, Jessica had dug up every single one of Lena’s secrets. Like how she’d escaped to Grand Cayman at nineteen. She’d lived right here in paradise for six years before meeting Jarrod, who had arrived with one of his targets on his arm. Lena had been a waitress with a gorgeous tan and long blonde hair. They’d made the perfect pair. She was smart and could learn any skill. He had the charm and plenty of skills of his own, primarily the sort that made lonely, rich old women want him.

  Yes, coming here had been the perfect plan. Lena knew all about the islands, and she had a deeply buried history here. She’d worked as a high-end prostitute for a man named Kenneth Dart. Dart had been quite the scumbag, taking advantage of the women in his stable. Lena had said he treated them like slaves rather than business associates. Not a single one seemed to know what had happened to him when he disappeared. Lena had reveled in telling Jessica all the dirty details. Where she’d hidden his body and the murder weapon she had used. Every little thing.

  Lena thought she had once again found in Jessica the kind of female bond she’d had with those women all those years ago. She could come back here and enjoy the good life. She had a new identity. All the money she could ever want. No one from Nashville or any of the other cities where she and Jarrod had worked their scams could touch her in this place. And she had a new friend with the same aspirations.

  It was the perfect escape.

  Except it was all just an illusion.

  Jessica wasn’t sharing with anyone. Jarrod and Lena had been fools to trust her. Jarrod had given Jessica the full PIN when he added J. (Jessica) Grady to the account. He’d wanted to dump Lena, and he and Jessica would get married and live happily ever after.

  Like that was ever, ever going to happen.

  A shadow suddenly blocked the sun.

  Jessica smiled. She turned on her side and watched as Lena’s eyes fluttered open.

  A man in a white uniform stood over her. Not the waiter who had been so attentive to their needs.

  “Mina Arnette?”

  The look of sheer horror on Lena’s face was priceless. Jessica shivered with excitement just watching.

  Lena sat up and removed her sunglasses. She glanced at Jessica, who shrugged, then stared up at the man, who was a local police officer.

  “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake,” Lena argued. “My name is Lena Marsh.”

  She glanced at Jessica again, and Jessica of course pretended to be agog with shock.

  The policeman reached into his pocket and removed a paper. Took his time unfolding it and then turned it around for her to view.

  “This is you, is it not?”

  How cute, Jessica thought. Not. There was Lena with her formerly long blonde hair, all decked out in whore garb. Pathetic.

  “That isn’t you,” Jessica argued, then turned to her pretend friend. “Is it?”

  Lena stared at the mug shot. “Well, she certainly looks like me, but it’s not me.”

  The policeman didn’t believe her, of course. Jessica had made sure there would be no question as to who Lena Marsh really was.

  Suddenly more uniformed men appeared.

  “Mina Arnette, you are under arrest for the murder of Kenneth Dart.”

  Lena shook her head. “No. You’re mistaken. I—”

  Hands grabbed at her.

  Jessica watched the struggle. Shrugged when Lena called for Jessica’s help. Too bad her temporary friend would be spending the rest of her life in prison.

  Jessica lay back on the chaise. All that money was hers now.

  Life was finally perfect.

  Her cell pinged, and Jessica reached for it. An alert from the bank appeared on the screen.

  She sat up, drew her sunglasses away so she could see the screen better.

  The alert was a warning that her balance had dropped. Heart racing, fingers fumbling, she quickly opened the app. There had to be a mistake.

  Her hopes sank.

  Balance zero.

  The money was gone. The phone rang. The bank. Her hopes dared to resurrect. Perhaps there had been a mistake.

  “Hello.” She held her breath, hoping for good news.

  “J. Grady?”

  “Yes, yes, this is she.”

  “This is Carl Wettig from Trident Trust. We need to have a meeting regarding certain issues with your account. Are you available now?”

  Jessica ended the call. No! No! No!

  Another ping of her cell sounded. Jessica checked the screen. A text. She tapped the screen.

  Never bite the hand that feeds you.

  “Ellen,” she snarled, “you bitch.”

  Jessica threw her phone across the white sand.

  What the hell was she going to do now?

  35

  2:30 p.m.

  Harpeth Hills Memory Gardens

  Highway 100, Nashville

  Finley sat in her Subaru for a long while.

  She had only been here once. She’d been too hurt . . . too angry to come back.

  Her father had picked the cemetery and made all the arrangements. Finley had been in no condition to make those decisions. When she was released from the hospital, her father had brought her here, and then she’d started her physical rehab and never returned.

  The agent Derrick had told her about, Langford, had provided Finley with Derrick’s personal information. Derrick Reed was his real name. He’d grown up in Mobile. He had no immediate family. His parents had died when he was a kid. A lot of what he’d told her was true. Somehow that made her happy. She liked that he’d shared his real self with her.

  Knowing the truth—knowing that what they had shared was real—meant the world to her.

  With a big bolstering breath, she climbed out of her car and headed for the cemetery gate.

  Dempsey had been picked up and questioned. The goal was to find a way to hold him until the evidence could be sorted out. The fear was that if given the opportunity, he would disappear. His bank accounts had been frozen, his passport seized, but passports could be bought on the black market.

  A few minutes ago Detective Ventura had called to say there was news in his investigation. Lena Marsh, a.k.a. Mina Arnette, had been arrested for another murder in Grand Cayman. Jessica Lauder had been with her and was now under investigation for fraud by one of the major banks there.

  Sounded as if Winthrop had come through and ensured all the loose ends were tied up. Finley wasn’t surprised. Her respect for the woman grew a little more.

  Finley planned to take some time now to decide what came next. For the past fourteen months she had been fighting an uphill battle to find the truth about Derrick. Now it was time to let herself really grieve his death. She had some healing to do for sure. She also had some catching up to do with her father. There were a lot of things she had put off for far too long.

  But she wasn’t going to wait long before making other decisions. Career decisions. As much as she loved working with Jack, she did want to do something more . . . something that would make a real difference. She wasn’t entirely sure what that would look like, but she was toying with Matt and Jack’s idea of running for the office of Davidson County district attorney. She wasn’t perfect and certainly not innocent, but she knew how to ferret out the truth beyond and among secrets and lies maybe better than anyone. Being squeaky clean wasn’t a requirement of the position. She just needed to do the job without bias and without the possibility of being bought.

  Finley wasn’t for sale in any capacity.

  She found Derrick’s grave. The headstone surprised her. She hadn’t seen it. She vaguely remembered her father mentioning that it had arrived. He’d ordered it. Black granite. Simple but elegant.

  Perfect.

  She sat down on the ground and plucked an overgrown sprig of grass away from the headstone.

  “Sorry it took me so long to come back.” She’d always thought talking out loud to a dead person was dumb, but here she was. “I watched the video. Langford has all the evidence you collected. Dempsey is in deep shit.” She laughed every time she said the words. The idea made her immensely happy. “Just so you know, the others—the ones who came that night—got theirs. And the bastard who gave you up, former agent Wayne Bates, is under investigation. He retired right after you . . . died. But he’s not going to get away with what he did. I’ll make sure.”

  She pulled her knees up and propped her chin there. “Matt and Jack helped me paint the inside of the house. Jack is there today starting the exterior painting. The Judge thinks I’m crazy for staying, and maybe I am. But I couldn’t go until this was done. I needed to be close to you. Now I just want to stay. It’s where we were, and I don’t want to leave. Not yet anyway.”

  Her neighbors, particularly Helen Roberts, had gone above and beyond. How could she leave such a great neighborhood?

  Then she told him her potential career plan. She talked it out at length, mostly for her own benefit. By the time she was ready to go, she had cried some more and laughed plenty.

  She dusted off her jeans and said her goodbyes. When she made it to the gate, the Judge’s car was waiting next to hers.

  “Did you like the headstone?” she asked as Finley approached.

  She nodded. “Dad did a good job.”

  “I picked it out.”

  Her father hadn’t mentioned her mother being involved. Probably hadn’t wanted to open a can of worms.

  “It’s perfect. Thank you. Exactly what I would have selected.”

  The Judge nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said, the two words coming out like rocks being pushed through a straw. “I misjudged Derrick, but when you have children of your own, you will understand how I felt.”

  Wow. An apology from the Judge. Finley wanted to pretend indifference, but she couldn’t. The words touched her.

  “Thank you,” she admitted and propped a smile into place.

  “We’ve always had our differences, Finley. I hope for your father’s sake that we can work through those in the future.”

  “I think we can figure out a way to do that.” This time her smile was real. “Jack says the reason we don’t get along is because we’re too much alike.”

  The Judge made a distasteful face. “He may have a point.”

  Finley laughed, felt a burst of freed tension. But there was one other thing she needed to make right first. “I have one condition,” Finley said, “regarding our efforts going forward.”

  Her mother studied her a moment. “What condition is that?”

  “Forgive Jack. Forgive yourself, and let’s get back to being a family, Jack included.”

  The Judge appeared taken aback for about two seconds, and then she took another couple to consider the request. “I’ll work on that.”

  Finley nodded. It was the best she could hope for . . . for now. “I have to go. I’m picking up Matt at the hospital.”

  He was going home today, and Finley intended to take care of him the same way he had her.

  O’Sullivan Residence

  Shelby Avenue, Nashville, 4:00 p.m.

  Finley hurried around to the passenger side of the car. Matt had the door open, and she gave him a hand climbing out.

  He groaned. The doctor had said he would be sore for a while but recovery should be smooth sailing. Either way, Finley had brought him home with her. His house was a sprawling three stories with his suite on the second floor. Her house was all on one floor. Closer to downtown and work.

  Thankfully Jack and one of her neighbors had gotten a new bathroom sink installed.

  Helen Roberts, her dog in one arm, the water hose in her other hand, watched from across the street.

  Finley waved at her neighbor, and Roberts waved back. Not only did she wave, but she smiled. Finley smiled in answer. The lady had probably saved her life last night. Finley would forever be grateful to her.

  As she and Matt made their way up the walk, Finley noticed the buckets of paint. She had no idea what color Jack had decided on. She had left it up to him. He and her father were going to whip the place into shape, Jack had told her. She liked that the two of them would be working together. Two of her favorite people.

  In the house, she settled Matt on the sofa. He was her other favorite person.

  “The Judge called as I was driving to the hospital. She insisted on bringing over dinner tonight. I hope you’re up for that.”

  “She’s coming here?” Matt looked surprised.

  He was no more surprised than Finley. She wasn’t sure how they would get back to a normal mother-daughter relationship, since they’d never really had one, but she was willing to take it one step at a time. “She is. Dad too. And Jack. He’s bringing dessert.”

  “Okay, now I’m worried,” Matt said. “Are you sure the doc didn’t say I was dying?”

  Finley laughed. “I’m positive.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him. “This has been a lot to take in. You sure you’re okay? You’re working things out with the Judge. Putting the Dempsey business behind you.”

  “I’m also considering your suggestion, Mr. Chief of Staff in the Governor’s Office. I might just look into running for DA. I can’t have you getting so far ahead of me.”

  He smiled. “That’s awesome. And I might just be able to wrangle an endorsement from the governor. He talks a lot about fresh blood.” Matt searched her face, his concerned. “You know, you can take this a piece at a time. No one will think less of you if you don’t go so fast.”

  “No.” She shook her head firmly. “I’m not wasting any more time. I want to get on with my life. I want to make a difference. And I want the people I care about with me.”

  “I hope that includes me.”

  “You’re right at the top of my priority list.” She wasn’t sure how to tell him just how much he meant to her.

  He stared at her for a long moment, and Finley wondered if he wanted to kiss her as badly as she suddenly wanted to kiss him.

  But that was one fresh start she intended to take very slowly. Her relationship with Matt was far too important to risk acting prematurely. She had finally found closure on the past fourteen months. The horror of that night, losing Derrick, living with the guilt. She was putting it behind herself and moving forward. She wanted Matt with her every step of the way. Not just as her best friend but as the man she loved so, so much.

  They talked and laughed until Matt dozed off on her. She tucked a pillow beneath his head and pulled a throw over him. She walked to the front window, smiled at the cat curled up on the glider. She’d have to come up with a name for the little guy. Or girl.

  She made a conscious decision not to call this place the murder house anymore. Yes, Derrick had been murdered here. But it was home now, and she was fairly certain Derrick would be good with the change.

  Somewhere in the distance she heard the wail of a police car.

  She smiled. Watch out, Nashville. Finley O’Sullivan is about to shake things up.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I come from a long line of very strong women. My mother was a tiny woman but as fierce as a giant. When my grandmother was born, women did not have the right to vote, but that changed when she was a young woman. She lived through the Great Depression, saw the first woman elected to Congress, and rooted for Rosa Parks when she refused to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Both my mother and grandmother cheered when the Equal Pay Act was signed into law by President Kennedy. These women witnessed many firsts and shattered glass ceilings of their own before the phrase was coined. I am so grateful for the strength, courage, and determination of the women in my family. My grandmother and my mother gave me the courage to believe that a girl from a farm in Nowhere, Alabama, could write a book and have it published and read by people all over the world. Women really are amazing!