“If you were half as smart as you think you are, you would have destroyed the evidence of your joke.”

  Clay tossed the empty bottle onto his bed and opened the other one. “You don’t care what happens to me. You’re only trying to protect her damned momma. I know the deal.”

  “Her mother is dead.” The need to shake him whipped through Cyrus. God, if he could climb out of this chair...

  “I don’t know nothing about that, either.” He downed half the second bottle.

  “Do you really expect me to believe you know nothing?” Cyrus growled. Before his son could come up with a response, he warned, “You stay away from Addy the remainder of her stay here. No more games. Do you understand me?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I understand perfectly. You don’t have to worry, tonight is the end of this for me.”

  He pushed between Cyrus’s wheelchair and his bed and started gathering the incriminating evidence.

  “What does that mean?” Cyrus demanded, uncertainty niggling at him.

  Clay twisted at the waist to look down at his father.

  “Exactly what I said. I’m not playing no more. I had my fun. Now I’m done.”

  If only he could trust his son’s word. Cyrus rolled to the door. There was one more thing he intended to say. “If I discover that you’ve been lying to me or that you had anything at all to do with Irene’s death, I will cut off all support. There will be no forgiveness. This is your final warning.” Perhaps the boy could benefit from eking out his own living. Or perhaps Cyrus would just put him out of his misery. Agony seized his insides once more. To some degree he now looked forward to his own death.

  Without Irene...he wasn’t sure this pathetic life would be worth living.

  He was certain it would not be.

  Clay strode right up to him and braced his hands on the arms of the mobile chair. He put his face in Cyrus’s. “This is your final warning, old man. You keep giving me shit and you will end up at the bottom of those stairs. And then it’ll all be mine and I won’t have to answer to you about any damned thing.”

  Cyrus produced a taunting smile. “You don’t have the guts to take a life, much less mine. You have no idea just what it takes to go that far.”

  Clay didn’t flinch. He held Cyrus’s gaze. “You sure about that?”

  Cyrus’s confidence in the matter drained away like the evening tide. Perhaps he didn’t fully comprehend what his son was capable of. Time would tell, he supposed.

  “Test me again,” Cyrus cautioned, “and we will see who has the largest balls in this family.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  1708 Monroe Street, 10:05 p.m.

  Adeline sat on Wyatt’s sofa. She felt numb. Beyond exhausted. They had found nothing. Not one sign of the women or Jamison.

  The bastard could have tucked Prescott and Arnold away almost anywhere. Dozens upon dozens of tiny shacks and cabins dotted the waterways. Hunters, drug smugglers, and the like built small, primitive shelters all the time. Many were abandoned and left to rot down.

  It could take weeks to cover every square mile of land near the water. But Adeline was determined to keep searching until she found the women or their bodies.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her head onto on the sofa back. God, she did not want them to be dead. Sheriff Henley had called. The boy, Danny, was missing. Defeat sucked at Adeline’s determination. Would Jamison hide his son with the women...to watch him play out his crazy scheme?

  The idea of a child being in harm’s way made her sick to her stomach.

  They had to find Jamison.

  Adeline failed at blocking the thoughts of her mother that nudged their way into her consciousness. The funeral home would have picked up her body by now. They would be waiting for Adeline to make a decision on the arrangements.

  She opened her eyes and sat up straight. She couldn’t think about that. It was too fresh. Hurt too much.

  Focus on the case. The women. The boy. Henley had no idea how Jamison had gotten into the home belonging to his in-laws, but he had to have gotten in. The boy had vanished. Even with the grandparents and a deputy keeping a diligent watch the bastard had managed to get to the kid.

  At least there had been no casualties. The last time this psycho hadn’t been quite so generous.

  He’d killed Adeline’s mother. She hadn’t done a damned thing to hurt the son of a bitch. He’d done it to hurt Adeline. By God, she wouldn’t rest until she had hurt him back.

  “Bastard.”

  She thought of the flowers he’d had delivered to the hospital. The call to the flower shop had come from a phone booth right here in Pascagoula. He was close. But how had he known when she had arrived? They’d rushed back from Jones County. Jamison couldn’t have known hers and Wyatt’s movements.

  Yet he had. He’d been watching. Somehow.

  He’s watching you real close. Almost as close as he’s watching his boy.

  You’re next. It’s time, princess.

  Fury blasted through Adeline.

  Bring it on, asshole.

  “You need to get to bed.”

  She looked up at Wyatt. He stood over her, his protector mentality in full force. “Is that an invitation?”

  “Addy.” He lowered himself onto the coffee table in front of her, took her hands in his. “We’re both beat. You’re operating on nothing but adrenaline. Think about what you’ve been through today. You can’t keep going like this.”

  She turned her face away from his. That was the last thing she wanted to think about. Even as she blanked her mind on the subject, the knife sank deeper into her chest and twisted.

  “Look,” he said gently. “If we’re going to be able to function in the morning when the search resumes, we need sleep.” He jerked his head toward the hall. “Take a shower and hit the sack. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She pulled her hands free of his. “I don’t need you hovering over me. I’m a detective, not some little girl who needs watching over. How many times do we have to talk about this?” She didn’t like this feeling of helplessness. The aloneness was even worse. His tactics were only driving those points home. She needed rest. That was true. She would be able to think more clearly if she got some sleep. Expectations for finding Prescott and Arnold alive had run out about ten hours ago, longer for Prescott.

  Two dead princesses...one to go.

  She closed her eyes, expelled the words. Adeline didn’t want them to be dead. Their kids would be orphaned...just as each of them had been. Was that why the bastard had waited so long? So he could inflict the same sort of pain his father had?

  Adeline was an orphan now...her mother was gone.

  Fury tightened her lips. She would find those women and the kid. And she would make Jamison pay.

  “Forget the shower,” Wyatt urged, “take one in the morning. Get some sleep now. Please, Addy.”

  She didn’t have the energy to debate the issue.

  “Everything else can wait,” he said softly. “Take a day to think about what you want to do about arrangements for your mom. You don’t need to be in a hurry.”

  Her gaze collided with his. Why did he have to bring that up? “Sullenger told you what I said, didn’t she?” Adeline should have known she would. Why the hell was she surprised?

  Wyatt frowned but not before Adeline saw the truth in his eyes. Damn that little bitch. “Were you surprised?” Jesus Christ. She hadn’t come back here to stay. If she hadn’t intended to stay before her mother was murdered, why would she decide to now? “Christ, Wyatt, I came here for the case. When it’s done...when everything’s settled, I’m out of here.”

  Disappointment claimed his every feature. That he didn’t bother arguing only made her angrier. “Say something!” She couldn’t bear him just sitting there staring at her like that.

  “I thought you might reconsider.”

  The softness of his voice, the sheer misery in his eyes, had the same effect as someone reaching inside her chest and twisting her heart. She couldn’t pretend he hadn’t gotten to her. Despite the fact that she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let this happen—that she wouldn’t trust him again. Wouldn’t let him get close, here she sat, exactly in that place.

  “Why would you think that?” She banished the little voice that shouted liar, liar inside her head. “Because we had sex? Get over it, Wyatt, it was sex. Just sex.” Liar, liar! Adeline clenched her teeth, exiled the voice a second time.

  “I know what I felt,” he insisted, his own defenses in place now. His shoulders were tense, the muscle in his jaw throbbing with frustration.

  Enough. “And I know what you did nine years ago. Whatever else there is between us,” she reminded him, driving a dagger of her own into his heart, “that betrayal will always trump everything else. Great sex isn’t going to change that.”

  “You never gave me a chance to explain,” he countered. “Even a suspected felon gets his day in court. Gets to tell his side of the story.”

  “Fine.” She couldn’t believe they were doing this now. What the hell difference did he expect his side of the story to make? “Spit it out, Wyatt.” She flung her arms upward. “You’ve wanted to talk about this ever since I arrived. Go ahead. I’m just dying to hear what made you decide to leave me hanging.”

  He stood, moved around the coffee table to pace the room. Was he buying time? If he didn’t have his story straight by now he should give it up.

  Adeline told herself she was being unreasonable. She was tired. Hurt. Guilty. And too many other negatives to mention. She’d screwed everything up. Let her mom down, and now it was too late to make up for those mistakes. She didn’t need this trip down memory lane. Even now that old familiar anger that simmered each time she thought about nine years ago heated deep in her gut.

  Wyatt stopped, set his hands on his hips, and stared directly at her. “Cyrus had put the word out that if you stayed you were dead. Gage and Grider had too many allies to doubt that scenario. I was,” he looked away a moment, seemed to struggle to collect himself, “scared to death you wouldn’t listen to his warning.” His gaze meshed with hers once more. “That you’d end up dead.”

  Outrage propelled her to her feet. “I wasn’t going anywhere until I ensured that Grider got what was coming to him. He couldn’t avoid charges with DEA, but I knew he’d set me up. I was supposed to die that day—not Gage. I wanted him to pay for that decision. We both knew he’d set me up.” For Christ’s sake, Wyatt was the one who’d heard rumors about the setup before the sting went down. Gage wanted Adeline off his back and he’d worked a deal with Grider to get the job done during the DEA operation. Wyatt had even tried to talk her out of moving forward. She’d refused. He’d never understood that she could take care of herself.

  The stare-off lasted a full ten seconds. “Grider wasn’t going to escape punishment,” Wyatt said at last. “What difference did it make if he got twenty-five years or life, at his age it was irrelevant. I just wanted you safe. The only way to ensure your safety was if you were gone.”

  “So you lied to the review committee.” She let him see the old hurt in her eyes. “You let them believe that because we were lovers I expected you to back me up even though you claimed to know nothing. I remember every moment of it, like it was yesterday. You took the fifth and left me to face the powers that be. It wasn’t pleasant, Wyatt. What it was, was wrong.”

  To her surprise, he nodded. “You’re right. It was wrong.” His words totally stunned her. She couldn’t find the right words to respond before he started talking again.

  “I told the review committee,” he admitted, “that I didn’t know what you were talking about. I wanted you mad enough to leave. The only way to accomplish that was to betray you—to make you hate me enough to walk away. If I’d taken your side, you wouldn’t have left. You would have stayed right here and told Cyrus to kiss your ass. The whole department was in turmoil and blaming you. You were sick of the dirty cops. You were still grieving the death of your father. You and your mother were on the outs. I knew I was the only thing keeping you here. So I did what I had to do to turn you against me. It was the only way to ensure you were away from here and safe.”

  Nine damned years! He’d let nine years go by with her thinking that he hadn’t loved her enough to back her up. “You bastard.” How could he have done such a thing? “You couldn’t have explained this to me after the fact?” How could he have allowed her to suffer the loss of everything without telling her the truth? “You could have backed me up and then we would have left together.”

  He shook his head, his expression adamant. “If I’d backed you up, you wouldn’t have left. You would’ve insisted on staying here and cleaning up Grider’s mess. I know how you think, Addy. I had to make you angry enough to walk away. I needed you to hate me.”

  “Well,” she glared at him with all the pain and rage that had been building for nine long years, “you succeeded.” Why couldn’t he see what he’d done? “You could have told me the truth after I left. At least then I wouldn’t have had to live with those feelings all these years.”

  “As you’ll recall,” he pressed, his tone reflecting his own rising frustration, “I tried to talk to you. To explain.” He shook his head. “But you wouldn’t talk to me. I sent letters. Sent messages through your mother. I even showed up at your door once and you called your HPD friends to haul me away. You ignored everything. Finally I gave up.” He sighed, the sound weary with the old hurt. “It was enough for me just knowing you were safe. Keeping you safe is all that has ever mattered to me.”

  How could he do that? Just let her walk away thinking what she thought of him? “Well, that’s just great. Thanks for clearing things up for me. I’m going to bed.” He’d thrown everything away because he didn’t think she was strong enough to take care of herself. Just proof positive that he’d never really known her at all.

  She hesitated, turned back to him. “Just so you know, you worry for nothing. You threw us away for nothing.” She bopped her chest with her fist. “First, I’ve told you a million times that I can take care of myself. I’m no princess. I’m a cop. A damned good one. Second, I wasn’t afraid of Cyrus then and I’m not afraid of him or Jamison now. That bastard’s not killing me. So back off, Wyatt, and let me take care of myself.”

  She stalked down the hall. She bypassed the guestroom and went straight to his bed. He could sleep in the guestroom or take the couch. His bed was by far the most comfortable.

  The rumpled sheets were welcoming. They smelled like him. That shouldn’t have given her any comfort but it did. She burrowed into the pillows and forced her brain to shut off.

  She didn’t want to think. Her mother was gone and Wyatt was a fool. He’d thrown them away because he couldn’t see the truth. Because he didn’t respect her ability.

  Vaguely she heard him come into the room. Heard the water go on in the shower of the en suite bath.

  That was the sound that followed her to sleep.

  * * *

  Deeper and deeper she sank.

  She tried to fight her way back to the surface, but hands were clutching at her...pulling her down, down, down.

  Adeline struggled against the hands...felt that familiar pressure settle on her chest.

  No! She wanted to live. She didn’t want to die.

  Her lungs burned with the need to suck in air. She clenched her jaw. Held her breath.

  The hands stopped clutching at her. But the weight remained on her chest, rendering her immobile. Helpless.

  The water suddenly cleared. So clear she could see the moonlight shining down through it.

  She turned her head to the right. Cherry Prescott lay beside her. Her eyes were closed and a tiara sat on her head. Adeline shook her head. Almost opened her mouth to scream.

  Help me! Please help me!

  Her heart pounding, she turned to her left. Penny Arnold lay on that side of her. Eyes closed. Tiara tangled in her long blond hair.

  Adeline flung out her arms. Tried to rise up. Couldn’t. Finally her hands settled atop her head. She felt around. Her fingers curled around something metal. She pulled it free of her hair.

  A tiara.

  Adeline jerked upright.

  Sweat dampened her skin. Her breath heaved in and out of her lungs. She coughed. Dark. Water running. She looked at the clock. Ten fifty-six. She’d been asleep, what? Four or five minutes?

  Shit.

  She threw back the covers Wyatt must have spread over her and got up. Her legs wobbled so she took a moment to regain her equilibrium.

  Damned dreams.

  The bathroom door was open. She peeked past it. Wyatt was in the shower.

  Her throat felt sand dry. She needed something to drink. Anything but water.

  She shoved the hair that had fallen loose out of her face. Apparently she’d done some tossing and turning during that short dream. The images haunted her. Penny and Cherry lying beside her. Adeline shuddered.

  In the kitchen, she poured a glass of orange juice and downed it.

  Better.

  Her cell vibrated. She stared down at her waist. Damn, she hadn’t even taken off her utility belt. No wonder she felt achy. Even five minutes of sleep wearing all that gear poking and digging into her muscles was bad.

  She pulled out her phone. A text message. She smiled. The only person who ever sent her text messages was Braddock. It would be a relief to hear from him. She frowned at the unknown number. Did he have a new cell number?

  She downloaded the message.

  She stopped breathing.

  It’s time, princess. Meet me

  at the command post. Come alone

  or they die.

  For about two seconds Adeline considered walking in there and dragging Wyatt out of the shower. But if he came and this bastard spotted him the vics would die.

  Was it possible they were even still alive?

  She read the screen again.