Do you believe the top level of Birmingham PD can be trusted?

Kerri made a face. What kind of question was that?

Yes. You know you can talk to me. Your mom is worried. I’m worried. I’m calling you.

Can’t. In meeting at work. I’m good, I promise. The subject came up in the meeting. I was curious. Gotta go!

If Amelia was at work, then she was okay, wasn’t she?

Kerri sent Diana a text and let her know about the exchange; then she decided to check in with Tori on the way to Bellemont’s office.

Not with a text. A call. She needed to hear her daughter’s voice.

42

12:30 p.m.

The Country Club

Country Club Road, Mountain Brook

Keith climbed out of his car, leaving the door open for the valet. Meetings at the country club were his least favorite ones. No one came here anymore except members of the old Birmingham guard. The ones like the man he was to meet, who had run things for so long he couldn’t grasp the concept that his reign was nearing an end.

Younger men, the next generation, like Lewis York and Theo Thompson, were taking over. Ben would have been one of those coming up. He had possessed the power of the family name and the old money as well as lots of new. He could have been governor. He could have been anything he wanted.

But he had wanted his freedom. He had wanted the challenge of creating something no one else had. The funny thing was—Keith stared at the aging building representing power in this city—Ben had never cared about the money or the power. When his software development company had skyrocketed, he had been pleased, of course, but it had never been his priority.

No matter that he had left years ago, landing on the other side of the country, this place, the unescapable pull of the family umbilical cord, had dragged him back.

Now he was dead.

Keith walked through the double doors, where he was greeted by the coat check attendee. Keith didn’t slow his forward momentum since he didn’t have a coat to check—or a hat or anything else.

What he would more than anything like to check was the guilt weighing down on his shoulders.

He should never have allowed this to start. He should have found a way to stop it.

There was no way as far as he could see to make this right. The only thing he could do at this point was keep trying to find her . . . and let this damned nightmare play out.

Daniel Abbott waited for him at his usual table. Men like Daniel had a table in this hallowed place. There were no designated tables for people like Keith. Not that he cared. He hated this political part of the world in which he was forced to operate. In a place like Birmingham, you were either in or you were out. To be in, you had to play especially nice with the folks in power.

Like the Abbotts and the Thompsons and the scumbag Yorks.

Keith pulled out the only other chair at the table for two. “Traffic was heavy,” he mentioned since he was fairly certain he was a minute or so late.

“I’m glad you had the time to see me. What will you have?”

The old man was already nursing a scotch on the rocks.

“Water for me,” Keith said. Though he would love nothing more than to drown the guilty voices nagging at him, that could not happen right now. Not in this place or in the presence of this man. Rare was the day he dared to imbibe. Too many things could go wrong. A client could need him.

There was never a good time for him to be anything less than stone-cold sober.

Daniel gestured to the waiter standing by, and Keith’s glass was quickly filled with icy water. He doubted he would ever understand the subtle sign language in which these waiters and waitresses were obviously versed.

“I genuinely hope you have an update for me.” Daniel sipped his scotch and waited.

Keith wished he had the sort of update Daniel wanted. What he had was more bad news. “I’ve had no response from any of my sources. As for Sela, it’s as if she has dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Except we know she hasn’t. She is out there somewhere.”

Keith took a long swallow of the water, hoping the cold liquid would moisten his dry throat. “I genuinely feel we’re in over our heads, sir. We need to let the police handle this, and there is only one way that can happen. Those detectives must have all the information we can give them; otherwise they’ll continue to operate blindly.”

Daniel shook his head adamantly. “We’ve already shared too much. I do not want this to go any further down that path. Ben is dead. Nothing we do will bring him back. I will not have his name sullied by the bloodthirsty media. They’re still showing up at my office and my home. But if she had anything to do with his death, I want to know.”

“I don’t believe Sela was involved.” The man was stuck on that idea, and Keith couldn’t adequately convince him otherwise.

“Your misplaced loyalty has not persuaded me, Keith. Unless you can prove this scenario to me, then we must continue to operate under the assumption that her involvement is not only possible but probable.”

Keith wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. The police had discovered her purchase of a car. They had also uncovered her illegal purchase of a handgun—one the same caliber as the murder weapon. No doubt Sela now fell firmly into the suspect category. What a mess.

“I’ll do all I can. But I’ll tell you now, I don’t expect to find anything new.”

“Hire another investigator, for God’s sake.”

For men like Daniel Abbott, this was a simple matter. But in the real world, trusted investigators were hard to find. Right now Keith would love to hear from the one on his payroll. Ramsey had gone dark on him. Keith didn’t know what was going on with the man, but he had a very, very bad feeling.

“We’ve talked about this before,” Keith ventured, “and you said Ben had not spoken to you about any concerns or worries he had in regard to Sela. Have you remembered something that you had perhaps forgotten?”

Daniel drained his glass, then leveled a glare at Keith. “Are you asking me if I conveniently forgot a discussion with my son about his wife?”

Keith met his glare without wavering. “Yes. That’s what I’m asking.”

Another of those subtle hand signals, and the waiter whisked the empty glass away and quickly returned with another sporting more of that expensive liquid sunshine.

The older man indulged in a long swallow, then placed his glass back on the white-linen-covered table. “Two weeks ago we had a short discourse regarding Sela and my concerns.”

Keith had known the old bastard had been lying to him when he’d denied such a conversation.

“Ben said that he had everything under control and that I should not trouble myself with worries about his wife.”

“He was right,” Keith announced, renewed fury blazing inside him. “Obviously, Ben was the one who should have been worried.”

“Find her,” Daniel said. “She’s out there. I feel it in my gut. Find her, and bring her to me. I will know why my son had to die. Bear in mind, Mr. Bellemont, that I always have a backup plan—it is one I hate to use, but if you fail, I will not hesitate.”

Keith gave him a nod; then he stood. There was nothing more to say. He was afraid the old fool had already set that backup plan in motion, which was in all likelihood the very reason the entire situation had gone to hell.

He turned and walked out of the house of cards that had stood as a symbol of greatness in the city for far too long.

It was all about to come crashing down.

43

1:00 p.m.

York, Hammond & Goldman Law Firm

North Twentieth Street

Amelia had sent a text to Diana saying that she was at work. She’d said the same to Kerri. But Diana could not take it anymore. She needed to see her daughter with her own eyes. She hadn’t seen her since Sunday night.

Downtown parking was always at a premium. Luckily, she found a spot on the same block as the firm. Not that she minded a nice walk, especially in this pleasant weather, but she didn’t want to get all sweaty. She already felt a little embarrassed by her jazz pants and tee. She should have taken time to change rather than taking off on impulse.

She had been here once before. The lobby always threw her off balance. The marble floors and towering ceiling. It really was a beautiful place. She had asked Amelia if the offices upstairs were as pretty, and she had raved about how luxurious the entire place was. The conference rooms. The law library. Diana drew in a deep breath. This was the life her daughter would have. Elegance and affluence. Not struggling from paycheck to paycheck like her parents had most of their twenty-year marriage.

The receptionist looked up as Diana approached. “May I help you?”

Diana smiled. “I’m here to see my daughter, Amelia Swanner. She’s an intern with the firm.”

The receptionist frowned. “I don’t think she’s here today. Let me check.” She picked up the phone and pressed a series of keys.