Unquestionably. “So, she isn’t shy?”

  Another of those noncommittal shrugs. “She’s just, you know, different.”

  Brighton was particularly well known for its diversity. Kerri couldn’t see the difficulty Alice had making friends as being related to her ethnicity. “Different how?”

  “She’s bossy, sort of.”

  A new student coming in with a bossy attitude would certainly turn most students off. “Bossy how?”

  Tori heaved a big sigh. “How do you think? She likes to tell people what to do. She says she’s a princess.” Her lips bit together, and her eyes widened.

  Obviously, she’d told Kerri more than she’d intended. “A princess?”

  Tori moistened her lips. “That’s supposed to be a secret. I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Kerri promised. “Whatever you tell me will stay between us as long as it has no bearing on what happened. I have—we both have an obligation to share anything that relates to what happened to Brendal.”

  Tori fingered the edge of her laptop. “Alice said she was born to rule, but that something happened and changed everything. That’s why she was sent here. Away from her home until the trouble is over. The story about her parents being dead is like a cover story. Her parents are dead, but they died a long time ago. She was sent here for protection from whatever is happening back in Mexico.”

  Kerri nodded. “Anything is possible. Sometimes, though, people make up alternative stories when the real one is too painful.”

  “I think maybe that’s what she’s doing.” Tori’s gaze met her mother’s. “I didn’t really believe her story about being a princess.”

  Kerri waited for Tori to go on, but she looked away instead. “You and Sarah have spent the night with her a few times.” Now that Kerri thought about it, a couple of months had passed since the last time. Alice had never come to their house for a sleepover. Kerri had no idea if she’d gone to Sarah’s.

  “Her house is kind of creepy.” Tori chewed her lower lip a second before going on. “I don’t like going there. I think Sarah has gone a couple times when I didn’t.”

  “It’s a nice neighborhood.” Kerri made it a point to familiarize herself with the homes and neighborhoods of her daughter’s friends if going to the home came up.

  “It’s not that. The house is pretty and all, but it’s creepy inside.”

  “Creepy how?” This was news.

  “There’s all this religious stuff. Her aunt and uncle are deep into it.”

  “That made you uncomfortable?” This was the South. Most folks went to church. Tori had gone to church with Sarah several times. Diana had crosses and at least one picture depicting Jesus in her house.

  Tori nodded. “It’s just different. Can we please not talk about this anymore?”

  “Okay. For now. But I need you to think over those moments before Brendal fell and tell me anything at all you remember that’s different from what you’ve told me so far. Detectives Sykes and Peterson will be talking to you again. Count on it.”

  Shrug number three. “’kay.”

  “I’ll go work on dinner.” Kerri stood. “Feel free to come and help.”

  Kerri left the door open to emphasize her invitation as she headed downstairs. She had always trusted her daughter. Tori wasn’t one to keep things from her. Only that once when she’d kept quiet about the man harassing Amelia. Kerri couldn’t believe she would hold back anything important ever again. Not after losing Amelia. The loss was still fresh in all their hearts.

  But she wasn’t foolish enough to believe her daughter might never make the same mistake again.

  In the kitchen, she browsed the pantry offerings for inspiration. She really, really needed to do some shopping. Maybe she would try one of the online delivery services that were so popular now. Or maybe the pickup option. Diana raved about both. Kerri’s cell vibrated. She dragged it from her pocket. Falco.

  Her thoughts instantly shifted to their case. “Hey. Any revelations from Cross?”

  Kerri supposed it was possible Walsh had zeroed in on Cross, since she’d worked all those years undercover going after the big drug runners. Whatever the case, she was holding back just how well acquainted she was with the DDA.

  “I haven’t been able to track her down,” Falco said, frustration simmering in his voice. “She’s not home and not answering her cell. Maybe she’s tied up. She doesn’t usually ignore my calls. I’ll keep trying.”

  Kerri’s first instinct was to assume the woman was avoiding them, but she pushed the conclusion aside. Reminded herself that she owed Cross the benefit of the doubt. “You think she has reason to not want to talk to us?”

  A couple of seconds of weighty silence passed between them.

  “Yeah. I do. Knowing Cross, she’s conducting her own investigation into Walsh’s death, and she doesn’t want us involved.”

  “She was a cop for too many years not to understand how unproductive that would be.” Kerri was all too aware of how truly ineffectual and dangerous choosing that route could be.

  “Maybe there was something between her and Walsh. Maybe it’s personal.”

  “Walsh was what? Five or six years younger than her?” When they’d first met, Kerri had believed Cross to be older than her. Not that thirtysomething was so old, but Cross looked closer to forty. Her career—and the drinking and smoking—had taken a toll on her. In all fairness, the woman had gone through hell. Abducted and held hostage for nearly a year. She’d come back damaged, physically and emotionally. Who wouldn’t look a little older under those circumstances?

  “You know what they say,” Falco tossed back. “Age is just a number.”

  “Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem like her type.”

  “I have to agree with you there.”

  A comfortable silence settled between them. Sometimes when they were working a case, they didn’t say a word. Just did some thinking, but those quiet moments hummed between them—like music no one else but the two of them could hear. Maybe this connection they had was like Kerri looking through the pantry—it prompted inspiration.

  Sometimes it even felt as though this thing went beyond work and friendship, but she kept that idea at bay. Always. She didn’t want to lose this man as a professional partner or as a friend.

  “You guys had dinner yet? I’m only a couple of blocks from that sandwich shop Tori loves. I could pick up dinner. Try and cheer her up.”

  The first real smile of the day touched Kerri’s lips. “That would be great. Diana wanted us to eat with her crew, but Tori just wanted to come home. Maybe she’ll open up more to you.” Kerri told herself the best part was that she wouldn’t have to cook. But the best part was that Falco was a member of their family now, and there was no denying the fact even if she had felt so inclined.

  Tori adored Falco. From all indications, the feeling was mutual. Kerri would trust this man with her child’s life. No question. Whatever haunted him from the part of his past he didn’t like to talk about, he was a good guy.

  The past shouldn’t rule the present.

  Not that she was so good at keeping it in the moment, but Falco was deeply burdened with his past. She doubted he would ever share all of it with her.

  “You got the drinks covered?” he asked, drawing her thoughts back to the moment.

  Kerri opened the fridge and double-checked how much beer she had on hand. A six-pack and a couple of cans of cola. “I do.”

  “See you in half an hour, then.”

  “Thanks, Falco. You’re the best.”

  “If you think I’m good now, wait until I tell you what I found out from Sykes.”

  Tension slid through Kerri. She leaned against the counter. “When did you talk to Sykes?”

  “He called wanting to know more about Tori. If she has a temper. If she gets along well with others. You know, stuff like that.”

  Fury belted Kerri hard in the gut. “Are you kidding me?”

  “He didn’t want to ask you. He was afraid you’d punch him.”

  Damn straight she would have. “He can’t seriously think Tori had anything to do with what happened.”

  “I don’t believe he’s leaning in that direction. He just wanted to ask me the things he was afraid to ask you.”

  Kerri knew the drill even if she didn’t like it one damned bit when it involved her daughter. “And what did you tell him?”

  “That Tori is the sweetest, kindest kid I know. No drugs. No alcohol. No problems whatsoever. Sykes even said the questions were ridiculous, that he knew you’d be on top of any issues. But he had to ask.”

  “Thanks for telling me. I’ll try my best not to punch him next time I see him.”

  “He and Peterson think it was the Talley girl.”

  Kerri couldn’t see that scenario. At all. “I’d wager they’re wrong on that one. I’ve known Sarah since she was five years old. She isn’t violent or mean or hurtful in any way. What did he say about the other girl, Alice Cortez?”

  She’s a princess. Kerri couldn’t shake that part of what Tori had told her.

  “Only that everyone they’ve interviewed so far sung Cortez’s praises. And, apparently, she wasn’t the one Myers was bullying.”

  Kerri’s gut clenched in rejection of the concept Sarah Talley would hurt a fly much less another child. “There is that,” she confessed.

  “Turning in at the sandwich shop now.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  She ended the call and placed her cell on the counter. Could persistent bullying really push a typically good kid to go that far?

  Kerri closed her eyes. Of course, it was possible. Basically anything was possible.

  She could only imagine what Sarah’s mother was feeling right now. She had tried twice to call and check on Sarah and had to leave a voice mail each time. Kerri wondered if she should be worried that Sarah’s mother hadn’t called to inquire about Tori. Maybe.

  She decided it wasn’t personal, just instinct. Fear. Denial. Hope. Anger. All the emotions any mother trying to protect her child would experience.

  Worse than any of that, the Myers family was faced with the possibility of losing their child.

  Whatever happened . . . all involved were hurt.

  7

  10:30 p.m.

  Taylor Residence

  Eighteenth Avenue South

  Birmingham

  Sadie watched the headlights go out in front of her. The other car had rolled to a stop a few yards from hers. She opened her door and got out. The interior light remained dark. A car’s interior light was the fastest way to get yourself noticed on a stakeout. She’d learned that as a surveillance virgin with her first BPD partner.

  A lifetime ago.

  She forced the memories away as she walked through the darkness to the passenger side of the other car—a beat-up yellow VW Beetle. She opened the door and got in. Like hers, the interior light remained dark.

  “You’ve gotta find yourself a less conspicuous ride,” she told her colleague. “This thing stands out like a lone duck in a pond full of hungry alligators.”

  “I can’t part with my baby.”

  Sadie shrugged. “A couple cans of spray paint would take care of the problem.”

  He grunted and changed the subject. “Anything exciting happen?”

  “Not unless you count the two kids playing porch pirates after the mail was delivered this afternoon. Little bastards.”

  Heck Keaton surveyed the house Sadie had tasked him with babysitting every night until this was over. “She come out today?”

  “Nope.” Sadie and another of her resources were taking care of the day shift. She wanted eyes kept on the Taylor house at all times. Until she had this figured out, it was the least she could do.

  Sadie opted not to mention the lady had had visitors. Nothing Sadie hadn’t expected. Falco and Devlin were thorough. “Hopefully this will be another boring night detail.”

  “Let the boredom come.” Heck chuckled. “I’m prepared. Back seat’s full of Red Bull and candy bars. I may never sleep again.”

  Heck—this was his actual name—Keaton was a former marine. He’d lost a leg on his last tour in the Middle East, but one would never know. The prosthetic worked for him as if it were his own flesh and bone. He worked out religiously. Had the muscled body to prove it. It was the PTSD that gave him the real trouble. The meds kept him leveled out most of the time. When it didn’t, he disappeared. He said going off into his hiding place was better than the alternative. He didn’t trust himself around people when he got like that. Unbalanced. Unable to hold it together.

  Sadie never doubted him. He’d worked for Pauley for six years before Sadie took over the business. If Pauley said he was a good guy, he was a good guy.

  “Call if anything comes up.” Sadie reached for the door.

  “Sorry about your friend.”

  Hand on the door handle, she hesitated. “Life sucks that way sometimes.”

  “Yeah.”

  Sadie climbed out of his car and got back into her own. She glanced at the house once more before pulling away. She was halfway down the block before she turned on her headlights. Traffic was light as she drove to her place. Didn’t take ten minutes. She rolled into the alley and parked. She locked the doors and headed for the fire escape. No one had been near her door or the fire escape since the last time Falco had banged on her door at seven. He’d called her a half-dozen times. She would get back to him in good time. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what he wanted. His and Devlin’s visit to Asher’s aunt had obviously turned their attention back to Sadie.

  She unlocked the multiple dead bolts and walked into her loft to the sound of her security system’s hyperbeeping. Entering the code shut the thing up. She locked up and tossed her backpack on the sofa. She needed a drink. If there was any chance at all of her sleeping, she’d have to get ahead of the demons.

  After grabbing the bottle she’d started on last night, she walked to her checkerboard pattern of sticky notes and photos on the wall, which represented her missing ten months. She tilted up the fifth of bourbon and chugged a long swallow. As the burn flowed down her throat and into her empty stomach, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Come on,” she murmured. “Do your magic.”

  Knowing the buzz would soon begin, she studied the images of the faces she had reason to believe were involved in whatever had happened to her. Her gaze stalled on his. Eddie’s. Eduardo Osorio. The only son of the most dangerous and powerful cartel leader in Mexico. He’d lost his wife only a year before the undercover operation had been launched. Sadie was no fool. Her commander hadn’t picked her for the assignment because she was the best detective on the team. Her likeness to the target’s deceased wife was undeniable. The powers that be had wanted to get Eduardo Osorio’s attention, and it had worked. He’d taken the bait like a starving rat.

  A shift in her chest had her tilting up the bottle once more. She closed her eyes and let the burn overtake the memory. Her mind took her to the one constant in the fragmented pieces of her memory.

  The mask. White. Horns sprouting from the sides and curling over the top. Soft, childlike voice instructing her to eat . . . to drink . . . to listen.

  The masked child, or whatever the hell it had been, had come to her so many times. Sadie had recognized the person was female, small. Maybe a kid. But everything around the visitor was a blur. The memories were scattered and cloaked in darkness. The occasional sound or image. Sensations. Fear. Pain. Need. Panic. And occasionally hope.

  All of it nothing more than pieces she couldn’t seem to put together.

  “To hell with it.”

  Sadie turned away from the mishmash she’d worked on for nearly three years now. The first year back from that dark place she’d been too much of a physical and emotional wreck to focus on anything. Over the past thirty-six or so months, the one thing that had kept her from admitting defeat was her refusal to give her father the satisfaction of knowing she’d given up.

  She would not give him that. Ever.

  The neck of the bottle hanging from her fingertips, she decided a long hot shower was necessary. She’d finish off the bottle and hopefully sleep like the dead for a few hours. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let the alcohol lead her anymore, but this was different. This was just for sleep. She rarely drank before or during work. She’d narrowed any serious drinking time down to a limited hour or so before bed.

  It’s a start, right? She’d even gone to AA a couple of times. Needed to go more—she got that. And she would. She definitely would.

  As long as she was breathing, she had an obligation to do right by Pauley. He’d left his business and this place to her.

  And she needed the whole truth. All those missing pieces. Some part of her wouldn’t let go of the idea that those pieces were essential to something she didn’t fully understand.

  With Asher’s murder, those pieces were even more important. Something or someone from her lost past was relevant to his death. She had to find that thing or person. Maybe the whole concept was simply a reason to seek revenge. Revenge was a powerful motive.

  The warning that someone was on the fire escape chimed. She stalled. A fist against the door confirmed it was neither cat nor another four-legged animal.

  Pound, pound, pound. “Cross, I know you’re in there.”

  Falco. Sadie gritted her teeth. She was not going to answer his questions tonight.

  She started forward once more, and the pounding began again.

  “We know you were working with Walsh more closely than you told us,” he said, the hushed accusation leaching through the wood of the door.

  Sadie turned around and moved toward the sound.

  “I understand,” Falco said, his voice softer now, “what it must have taken for you to trust him.”

  She pressed her forehead against the cool wood surface and closed her eyes. He couldn’t possibly.