She couldn’t tell Diana about this . . . not until she was sure. Fear snaked around her chest and squeezed. It was bad enough this case was all over the place . . . but this was personal.

“You know what the problem is with those three? Bellemont, Thompson, and York?”

The adrenaline suddenly bled out of her, leaving Kerri exhausted. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“They’re lawyers. No matter how good or nice you think one is, you can never really, completely trust one of them.”

She laughed, a half-hearted sound. “Ain’t that the truth.”

While her partner drove, Kerri sent a text to Amelia.

We need to know you’re ok. Now, pls.

To Kerri’s surprise a response came right away.

I’m fine. Everyone needs to chill. I have to do this, Aunt Kerri. My friend needs me.

Is your friend Sela Abbott?

No answer.

Kerri sighed. This is not a game. It’s dangerous. Be careful.

A thumbs-up and then a heart appeared on the screen.

Kerri wanted to feel better about the situation after reading Amelia’s texts. But she didn’t. She was terrified that all this—the murders, the deceptions, the betrayal—all somehow tied together, and Amelia was tangled up right in the middle of it.

38

6:00 p.m.

Swanner Auto Repair

Richard Arrington Junior Boulevard South

Robby stared at the news on the television mounted on the wall in his shop. Photos of murder victim Ben Abbott, his missing wife, and his dead mother-in-law flashed on the screen.

“According to the Birmingham Police Department,” the anchor said in his perfectly modulated voice, “this investigation is ongoing, but there are still no firm leads in the case.”

Robby shut off the damned television. He couldn’t stand to watch any more of it. The story about the home invasion seemed to be on every channel twenty-four seven. It was driving him crazy.

This wasn’t his fault.

He suddenly realized he was standing in the middle of his shop, and his mechanics were staring at him. They were all working late, again.

“Too depressing,” he offered with a nod to the dark screen.

Agreements were mumbled as the men went back to work. Robby walked into the break room and shut the door. He pressed his head against the door and swallowed back the screams that rose in his throat.

He’d made a mistake all those years ago.

His father had almost lost this place before his heart attack. When he’d died nearly sixteen years ago, Robby had been twenty-four with a wife and kid and a shop that was going under fast because of the bad decisions his father had made.

But everything had turned around that one night.

Robby had been at the shop alone. Another of the mechanics had quit. Robby hadn’t blamed him. He couldn’t pay him what he’d deserved. Just before he’d decided to call it a night, a man had knocked on the door, needing assistance. He’d claimed that he’d heard Robby could work magic—that he was the best, and only the best would do.

What he’d really heard was that Robby was desperate.

Even as he’d agreed to do the job, Robby had recognized the price he was being paid was hush money. But the man had promised that if he did this right and kept quiet, he would never have to worry again.

Robby had been a fool.

And now that night was back to haunt him.

He walked to the freezer and dug out the box Jen had discovered. Maybe he was a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.

All these years he had kept a little memento from that night.

Just in case.

39

7:00 p.m.

York Residence

Saddle Creek Drive

Falco did the knocking at Lewis York’s door. The man lived on a private estate in one of Birmingham’s premiere neighborhoods. The enormous colonial revival–style house was as grand as the address suggested. But Kerri wasn’t impressed.

She surveyed the property. The meticulous landscaping, the abundance of space between the homes. Five-car garage. Each probably filled with something that cost more than a full year, maybe two, of her salary.

Didn’t mean the guy inside wasn’t capable of all manner of bad things.

There were certain things money definitely could not buy. Honesty. Integrity. Ethics.

The door opened, and Lewis York himself greeted them. Kerri had looked him up on the way over here. Closer to fifty than forty. Dark hair with a peppering of gray. Medium height, medium build. Not much of a chin, but a hell of a nose. Not classically handsome like his friend Theodore Thompson Jr. She had done a hell of a lot of research on the wannabe senator as well. She really, really had wanted to talk to him. But since Thompson was not available at his office or at his home, this guy had been next up on Kerri’s list.

“I’m Detective Devlin.” She showed her badge. “This is my partner, Detective Falco. We have a few questions about a double homicide case we’re investigating.”

Without inquiring as to what case or why they would need to speak with him, York opened the door wider in welcome. “Come in, Detectives.”

Kerri and Falco followed him into the grand entry hall.

“Let’s talk in my study.”

With that he turned and strode deeper into the house, made a left, and paused to slide apart elaborate wood-and-glass pocket doors. He entered the office and settled behind the desk.

“Please have a seat.” He gestured to the lushly upholstered chairs that stood before his desk. When they had complied, he said, “How can I help you?” His gaze lingered on Falco before he shifted back to Kerri.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the news about Ben Abbott and his family,” she said. She wouldn’t start with Amelia. She had made her mind up on the way here to let York do the leading. Sometimes a suspect’s need to prove his innocence helped to show his guilt. York was an attorney. If he was half as good as the prestigious firm would have her believe, he would never allow Kerri to lead him anyway.

“I have. It’s a terrible tragedy. My family and his are well acquainted.”

“Did you know Mr. Abbott or his wife personally?” Falco asked.

“Not really. Ben was several years younger than me, and he has been away for a good number of years. Frankly, I never really knew him beyond social events. I’m more acquainted with Ben’s father and his wife. I’m sure you know that everyone who is anyone is involved with DATACO on some level. Daniel has ensured that his company touches all of our lives in one way or another. He’s a brilliant strategist when it comes to business. His son obviously inherited that ability.”

It wasn’t necessary to be much of an investigator to know this. His waxing on was interesting, though. Kerri asked, “What about Ben’s wife, Sela?”

York shook his head. “I really don’t know her at all. As I told you, I’ve seen her in social settings. Nothing more.”

“Any rumors in your social circles as to what happened? Known enemies of the Abbotts? Talk of trouble?” she asked.

York turned his hands up. “None at all. I wish I could help you, Detectives, but I’m afraid I really know nothing about the situation other than what a somber tragedy it is. All of us at York, Hammond & Goldman are keeping the family in our prayers.”

“Beyond your staff that’s shown on the firm’s website”—Falco took the conversation in the next direction—“do you have other employees who aren’t in the photograph?”

“I’m not sure why you would ask in this context,” York qualified, “but the answer is we have custodial personnel and a few others who aren’t a part of the staff photograph. The ones in the photo are the members who interact with clients. When a new client arrives at our office, we want that client to recognize the faces he encounters.”

“You have how many investigators?” Falco pushed. “Five? Six?”

“Four,” he corrected. “The clientele to which we cater rarely requires those sorts of services.”

“We’d like the names of those investigators,” Kerri said, hoping he would answer without overanalyzing the question.

He held her gaze a moment. “Don’t doubt my desire to help in any way possible, but why are you interested in my firm’s staff?”

It had been worth a try.

“We have a witness,” Falco said, “who stated that a member of your staff was seen coming out of the Abbott home the day before the bodies were found.”

Kerri kept her gaze steady on York. She didn’t have a problem with the straight-up lie her partner had just told. Particularly if it got the job done.

“I tell you what, Detective. You stop by my office tomorrow during regular business hours, and I’ll have my secretary provide you with a list of the firm’s employees—as well as photos. If your witness identifies one of my people, I will personally escort that person to your office.”

“We may take you up on that offer,” Falco said.

“I wouldn’t have made it if I weren’t prepared to follow through.”

“Is it your firm’s policy to spy on people? Perhaps someone conducting some activity against one of your clients?” Kerri watched him closely as she waited for his response.