“Do you miss Miranda and Keenan and all of them when they go home?”

  “Sure I do. Especially now that Miranda’s home is all the way in New York. But … I’m happy they’ve made their own lives. It means I did a good job, I guess.”

  She took Cate’s gritty-with-sand hand, began to cross the beach toward the rise of stone steps carved into the bluff.

  “And I’m going to have you and your dad around.”

  “We’re going to live in your guesthouse for a while.”

  “That’s going to be fun. We can work on meeting our goal of finishing a million jigsaw puzzles.”

  “Daddy said I could write down the things I want from the other house, and I don’t have to keep everything. When we get a new house, we can get new things. So it’s just ours.”

  “What’s first on the list?”

  “My stuffed animals. I can’t leave them. He said I can pick some of them to go to Ireland, too, because we’re going to go and help Nan be settled.”

  “You’re going to be a big help to her.”

  Lily saw the lights starting to glimmer, inside, along the paths, around the terraces. And tried not to think of the panic, the outright fear she’d felt at the same time the day before.

  She gave the hand in hers a quick squeeze, just to feel it.

  Then that hand tightened in hers. “Somebody’s coming. A car’s coming.”

  Maybe she felt a flutter of fresh panic, too, but Lily only smiled. “Girl, you’ve got ears like a bat. There’s a gate,” she said in that same easy tone. “Your grandpa won’t let anybody in unless he knows them.”

  Tugging her hand free, Cate ran up the stones until she could see. “It’s the sheriff’s car! It’s okay, G-Lil, it’s the sheriff.”

  Was it okay? Lily wondered as she followed Cate up. Would it ever be okay again?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  By the time Lily caught up with Cate—the kid could move!—Cate stood at the top sweep of the drive, waiting for the car. She put an arm around Cate’s shoulders, felt the trembling.

  “Let’s go inside, sweets.”

  “I want to know.” Trembling or not, the words came fierce. “I don’t want to get sent away again. I want to know.”

  She pulled away, marched right up to the car as it parked, blurted out the question as Red got out. “Did you catch them?”

  He gave her steady look for steady look. “They’re in police custody. We’ll talk about it.”

  The sound escaping Lily’s iron will was half sob, half gasp. When Cate turned to her, eyes wide and worried, she could only shake her head. “It’s all right. I’m all right. I’m just relieved. Just relieved. Let’s all go inside. It’s turning cold.”

  She called out when Aidan opened the front door. “Have somebody put some coffee on, will you? And for God’s sake, somebody mix me a martini. A big one.”

  “Are they in jail? Are they going to get out? Are they—”

  “Slow down, tiger. I wouldn’t say no to coffee,” Red said to Lily. “I’d appreciate if we could talk to everybody at once, as we need to get back.”

  “Of course. I’ll round them up. Most of us had to get back home, so it’s just my husband and me, Aidan and Cate, Rosemary, Nina. You’ve had a long day, both of you,” she added as she escorted them in.

  “I’d say everyone has.”

  “Why don’t you sit down. The fire’s nice on a brisk evening. I think Rosemary’s upstairs, and— Oh, Nina, would you go up and tell Miss Rosemary the sheriff and deputy are here?”

  “Right away. Oh, Caitlyn, you need to wash the sand off your hands.”

  Hastily Cate wiped them on her jeans. “They’re fine. Please.”

  Before she could insist, Lily tapped her own hand in the air behind Cate’s back.

  “I’ll go tell Miss Rosemary, and get the coffee. Should I stay then?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you would,” Red told her, and nodded as Aidan came in. “Sorry to intrude again.”

  “Not at all. My father will be right in.” He searched Red’s face. “You have some news for us?”

  “I do, and I hope it’ll give you some peace of mind.”

  “They’re in custody. He said they were, but didn’t say how. I want to know—”

  “Caitlyn Ryan.” The quiet warning from her father had her straining, but silent. “Can I take your coats?”

  “We’re fine. We’re not going to take up too much of your time.” To get things rolling, Red sat, smiled at Cate. “Been down to the beach, have you?”

  “I wanted to go outside. I like the beach.”

  “It happens to be my favorite place in the world. You surf?”

  “No.” Now she angled her head. “Do you?”

  “Every chance I get. If it’s cranking tomorrow, I may put on my steamer, grab my stick, and go on dawn patrol.” He winked at her. “Surfer talk.”

  Intrigued, she sat on the floor, crossed her legs. “Did you ever see a shark?”

  “See one? I punched one right in the face once.”

  “No, you—really?”

  “Hand to God.” He swiped one over his heart then pointed his finger up. “It wasn’t a very big one, but I like to make him bigger every time I tell the story.”

  “Do you surf, too?” she asked Michaela.

  “No.”

  “I’m going to teach her.”

  Michaela made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “No, you’re not.”

  “You just wait.”

  Hugh came in with a martini glass in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other.

  “My hero,” Lily murmured, took the glass and the first long, slow sip.

  Hugh sat. “Nina’s finishing up the coffee. I hope you’ll come back, both of you, when you’re not on duty so I can mix or pour you your drink of choice.”

  “I’ll see we do.” Red got to his feet as Rosemary came down the stairs. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am.”

  “Not in the least.” Rosemary took the whiskey glass from her son. “Aidan, be a dear and get Hugh another glass of Jameson’s. I’m taking his.”

  “The sheriff said he punched a shark in the face.”

  Rosemary nodded, sat. “I’m not surprised to hear that. You’re an avid surfer, aren’t you?”

  “Avid as they come.”

  Small talk, he thought, kept things smooth until.

  Until Nina came with the coffee.

  “Okay then. We wanted to come by, tell you that Grant Sparks and Frank Denby, suspected of kidnapping our girl here, are both in custody. The state police apprehended Denby in a motel room south of here.”

  “How did they know he was there?”

  Red looked down at Cate. “Well, I’ll tell you he wasn’t too smart. We did our job, and got his name—”

  “How?”

  “Cate, it’s rude to interrupt.”

  She glanced back at her father. “How will I know if I don’t ask?”

  “There’s a point to that,” Red agreed.

  But when he hesitated, Michaela made a decision. The girl deserved to know. “Ms. Dupont gave us the name when we talked to her. When we knew who we were looking for, we got some information. Like where he lived, and what kind of car he drives, and the license plate. We put out an alert to other police. And the state police spotted his car, the license plate, in the motel lot.”

  “Then he wasn’t very smart.”

  “No,” Michaela agreed, “he wasn’t. But he wasn’t very smart to leave you that spoon, was he? And you were the smart one.”

  “That’s a stone fact,” Red put in. “As for Sparks, he was packed up to take off. Didn’t move fast enough, and the police in L.A. arrested him. Both of them are being transported here, and we’ll lock them up, we’ll talk to them.”

  “How long will you lock them up?”

  “Well, that depends on the lawyers and the courts. Mic and me? We don’t get to decide. But I can tell you with the evidence and statement and the case we’ve made? It’s going to be a real long time.”

  “Like a year?”

  “No, honey, a lot longer. Maybe twenty years.”

  “My mother, too?”

  More cautious here, Red looked at Aidan.

  “We’ve talked about it. Cate needs to know, we all do.”

  “Then I’ll tell you. Because your mother gave us information on the two men and information on what they all did, planned to do, the state’s attorney—that’s the person in charge of trying cases like this—made an agreement with your mother’s attorney. It’s called a plea bargain. So they made this bargain, and for the information, they eased back on some of the charges, providing she says she did the things she did. She has to go to jail, too, for ten years. She can get out in seven if she meets the requirements, and the people in charge of that say she can. But she has to go to jail for seven years for certain.”

  “She won’t like it there,” Cate said, mostly to herself. “She can’t go shopping or to parties or auditions. I don’t have to see her.” She looked back at her father. “Even when she can come out.”

  “No.”

  “And we’re divorcing her.”

  “Yes, baby, we’re divorcing her.”

  “She doesn’t love us. Nina’s not in trouble.”

  “Not a bit,” Red assured her. “We need to keep your phone in evidence for a while longer, Ms. Torez.”

  “I don’t want it back, thank you. I really don’t want it back. Caitlyn, now that you’ve talked to the sheriff, we should go up, get you cleaned up for dinner.”

  Not altogether satisfied, but calculating she’d gotten all she could—for now—she stood up. “Will you tell the people who helped me? Dillon and Julia and Gram?”

  “It tells me about your character you’d ask that. It tells me good things. Yeah, we’re going by there when we leave here.”

  “Will you tell them thank you again?”

  “That’s a promise.”

  “We’re going to live in Grandpa’s guesthouse for a while, and we’re going to Ireland with Nan to stay there for a while, too. But will you tell me if you’re right, and they have to go to jail for twenty years?”

  “I can do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You bet.”

  “Thank you, Deputy Wilson.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  As she went out with Nina, Red heard her say, “Will you stay with me while I clean up and change? Will you stay in my room?”

  “She’s afraid to be alone,” Aidan said quietly. “She’s always been so independent, ready to explore, or settle down on her own with a book or a project. And now she’s afraid to be alone.”

  “I don’t want to overstep, Mr. Sullivan, but it might be helpful if your daughter had some counseling.”

  “Yes.” He nodded at Michaela. “I’ve already made some calls and contacts. She doesn’t want to go back to our house in L.A., so as she said, we’ll move into my father’s guesthouse. And we’ll spend some time in Ireland—get her away from any publicity for as long as possible. I know you both have work, and you’ve had a very long day. I don’t want to keep you, but I need to ask. Will there be trials? Will Cate have to testify?”

  “Ms. Dupont pled guilty, so no trial. I can’t tell you about Sparks and Denby. I will say, while they’re not all that smart, I think they may be smart enough to take a plea. We’ve got enough, if they don’t, to push for life without parole. Twenty years is a hell of a lot better than life.”

  Red got to his feet. “We’ll keep you updated. Are you heading back to L.A. soon?”

  “I think yes, I think as soon as possible.”

  “I’ve got your cell. I’ll reach out.”

  Red checked his watch on the way to the car. “I think we can mooch a meal at Maggie’s when we fill them in. Let me tell you, Mic, both those women can cook.”

  Michaela considered it. “I could eat. Are we going to hit Denby and Sparks tonight?”

  “Might as well strike while the iron’s hot enough to burn their asses. You up for it?”

  Michaela settled in the passenger’s seat, looked back at the house, thought of the girl. “I’m up for this one.”

  * * *

  Both men said: Lawyer.

  Unsurprised, Red started the ball rolling for a public defender for Denby—who claimed he couldn’t afford to hire one—and gave Sparks his call so he could contact his own.

  With Maggie’s exceptional chicken and dumplings—and a slice of Julia’s spice cake—happily filling his belly, he huddled with Michaela.

  Both agreed, of the two, Denby racked up more stupid points. They’d take him first.

  Together they walked into the interview room. And though he restarted the recorder, Red held up a hand. “It’s going to take awhile for the court to appoint your lawyer, and awhile for him to get here. You don’t have to say a word, that’s your right. We’re just here to let you know it might take till morning, and to give you a little information.”

  “I got nothing to say.”

  “Nobody’s asking you to, just making you aware that Charlotte Dupont’s exchanged considerable information in exchange for a deal. First come, first served—you know how it works, Frank. With what we got from her, and from other sources, the state intends to go for life, no parole.”

  “That’s bullshit.” But he’d gone sickly gray. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Not asking you what you did or didn’t. Are we, Mic?”

  “No, sir, the suspect has engaged his right to an attorney. Until that attorney—well, whoever the courts can scrounge up—gets here, we’re not asking a single thing. Simply informing.”

  “I bet it’s Bilbo.” Red let go a snickering laugh. “With this guy’s luck I bet it’s Bilbo. Anyway, from what we already know, this was your operation, so you’re likely to go down the hardest.”

  “Mine? That’s a crock of—”

  “Now, Frank.” Red held up his hand again. “You don’t want to say anything until you talk to your”—he rolled his eyes at Michaela—“lawyer when he gets here. Mic and I put in a long one today, but figure before we lock you up, get on home, we should let you know how things stand. The blonde? She rolled hard on you, Frank. And you were the one who had a gun in his possession. Then you got the blackmail.”

  “There wasn’t any blackmail! That was bogus.”

  “Frank, if you keep saying stuff, we’re going to have to put you back in your cell without giving you the information to help you decide how to handle things when your lawyer gets here tomorrow.”

  “Screw a lawyer. There wasn’t any damn blackmail. I’m not going down for fucking blackmail.”

  “Look, if you’ve got something you want to say, something you want to tell us, you need to waive your right to an attorney. Otherwise—”

  “Didn’t I say ‘screw a lawyer’?” His eyes darted back and forth between them, shooting out genuine fear. “I waive that shit then. Blackmail, my ass.”

  “Okay, the record shows you’re waiving your right to an attorney and want to talk. You showed Ms. Dupont and Mr. Sparks photographs you’d taken of them in some very compromising positions.”

  “That’s right, that’s right. With Sparks’s camera, for Christ’s sake. Do you think I could afford one of those long lenses? Do you think I could’ve gotten inside the walls of that big-ass estate without him setting it up?”

  Michaela didn’t miss a beat, just cast her eyes to the ceiling. “Jesus, he expects us to believe Sparks set all this up? We’re wasting our time on this one, Sheriff.”

  “He did! It’s what he does, it’s his game. He hits up rich women. He hits them up for loans, big-ticket gifts, cash, whatever. He’ll honeypot them for more if he figures he can squeeze them.”

  “And you know this how?” Red asked.

  “Maybe we ran a few together. It’s not the first time he’s tapped me for a game.”

  “Now they’ve worked together.” Michaela kicked back, yawned. “Sparks makes good money as a PT for wealthy clients. Why would he risk that to hook up with a second-rate grifter like you?”

  “Look, bitch—”

  “Now, now,” Red said mildly. “Language.”

  “He’s got the style, okay? That’s his gig. Sex, style, finding women who want some of both. Sometimes he wants somebody to hit the mark with photos. That’s me. You squeeze a few thousand, and you move on.”

  “A few thousand? You were hitting for ten million.”

  “Ten—” Everything about Denby went dark, went ugly. “That son of a bitch. He said two. We’d split two. Biggest take ever. He had the woman wrapped. He saw how it was. The kid wasn’t a big deal to her—but the kid was a really big deal with the father. And the father, he had the money. A hell of a lot of money. The fucking Hollywood Sullivans, right?”

  He patted his chest. “Can I get a smoke?”

  “No.” Red just smiled. “Keep going.”

  “He says we’ll go for the big one, the kind you retire on. I’m not kidnapping some kid, that’s what I say. I mean whoa. But he’s, like, he can get the blonde to set it up. If she balks, we walk. But if she bites, we’re in.

  “She bit.” He leaned forward. “It’s, like, I hit Sparks first, and he has to go to her, tell her. We meet up—she wears a wig, for Christ’s sake, big sunglasses. Like anybody gives a rat’s ass. I show the shots, she gets hysterical—‘What’ll it take? You can’t sell these. My career, the press!’ So I get how Sparks had it right. It’s all about her, and that makes it easy. I say, like me and Sparks set up, how I’ll let her know what it’ll take, and it won’t come cheap.”

  “You didn’t directly demand the ten million?”

  “No. Man, he said it was for two, so I say how I want two. They played me,” he muttered, bitter. “Played me for a mark, went for ten. I figured she could get two, sell some shit or whatever, but he comes to me, says she can’t get it, and how he talked her into using the kid. How she jumped on it.”

  He squirmed in his chair. “Look, if I can’t get a smoke, can I get a Mountain Dew or some shit?”

  “Finish it out, and we’ll fix you up.”

  “Jesus, don’t you see? He set me up. They fucking set me up. I’m not going down for all this. They worked out how to get the kid. He said she had the perfect time and place because they were having the party deal for the old man—the dead one—up in Big Sur. It’ll be easy and slick. She knew about the house where we could keep her, that it was going to be empty. She knew it would be because they’d be out of town and wouldn’t be coming to the party deal, got it?”