Theo snapped shut his sagging jaw, but it was far too late to recover from what his evolving expressions of shock and fear had revealed.

The would-be senator had an affair with Janelle Stevens. He was clearly stunned and perhaps more than a little terrified that the case was being reopened. Kerri had accomplished at least part of her goal.

York rounded the desk to stand next to his client. “If you’ll excuse us, Detective, I need to confer with my client.”

Thompson looked up at him, as if he had no idea what was going on.

Kerri stood. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here, Mr. York. I have questions for you as well.”

“Leave. Now, Detective,” York commanded, his face so tense his jaw throbbed.

He was probably pissed about her discovering his little cabin in the woods.

“Were you surprised that the car Joey Keaton sold Sela was left at a property you own?”

York glared at her and motioned at the guards standing by.

As the two men moved toward Kerri, she said, “Don’t forget what I told you, Mr. Thompson. We know what happened.”

She’d said all she had to say. For now. She walked out; the guards marched right behind her until she was out of the building.

Kerri had kicked that hornet’s nest but good. If she was lucky, they would now go into swarm mode to cover their asses. Desperation led to mistakes.

All she needed was one mistake.

She crossed the lot to her Wagoneer and climbed in. Her cell vibrated. She hoped it was a text from Tori letting her know she’d made it back home.

The call was from her attorney. Her heart pounding, she answered. “What’s going on, Mac?”

“Well, you’re not going to believe this.”

She swallowed the massive lump of worry in her throat. “Try me.”

“Nick’s attorney just canceled the hearing. He’s withdrawn his petition to modify custody. For now, Kerri, it’s over. Enjoy your weekend.”

Stunned, relieved, overwhelmed . . . she struggled to find her voice. “Thanks.”

After the call ended, she stared at the screen for a moment and let the news set in; then she called Falco and told him.

“That’s great, Devlin. We could celebrate if we had time.”

But they didn’t. As thrilled as she was at Mac’s call, the pieces of this puzzle were slowly but surely coming together. They couldn’t stop until this was finished.

Thompson and York weren’t getting away with what they’d done.

Neither was Daniel Abbott.

“Did you find anything?” she asked.

“Nada. You want to rendezvous at the Abbotts’?”

“Sounds good.”

A BPD cruiser rolled up beside her. The uni behind the wheel powered his window down.

“Hang on, Falco.” The rhythm of Kerri’s heart instantly changed as the glut of possibilities for trouble whirred through her mind.

“Have to let you go, Devlin. I just got blue lighted.”

She frowned. What the hell was going on? She set her phone aside and rolled her window down.

“Detective Devlin?” the officer asked.

“That’s me.” She told her heart to slow its pounding. Tori was fine. Diana was fine.

Shit. What about Amelia?

“I have orders to escort you to the chief’s office.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t taken long. She glanced at the building she’d exited just minutes ago.

The hornets were swarming.

54

1:00 p.m.

Abbott Residence

Saint Charles Drive, Hoover

Tempest Abbott perched on the edge of the sofa in the family room. She’d dismissed the staff early. Daniel was on his way home. She had called him, which she rarely did, and told him she needed him. He would be here any moment. She had prepared his favorite drink, scotch on the rocks, as well as a lovely glass of white wine for herself. The elegant glasses, handmade in Italy, stood on the silver tray resting on the cocktail table in front of her.

She glanced around the enormous room and recalled the day construction had begun on this beautiful house. Ben hadn’t been born yet. She couldn’t wait to fill the rooms with children. But sometime during her pregnancy with Ben, Daniel had taken steps to ensure that didn’t happen.

He’d never told her, of course. She’d discovered his secret all on her own, just as she had so many of his other indiscretions.

His decision to have a vasectomy had stolen her dream from her. Ben was her only child, and she had poured everything into that sweet boy.

Now he was gone.

Emotion would have engulfed her, but she’d prepared well for the occasion. She had taken a nice dose of the Valium the doctor had prescribed after Ben’s murder.

She had hoped if Sela were found, perhaps the grandchild could help fill the crack left in her heart by Ben’s death. But that was not going to happen. She would never have the opportunity to know her grandchild.

It was over.

Ben’s life.

Their lives.

No amount of money . . . no home . . . nothing could make her want to live another day. Another minute, for that matter.

Except she had something to take care of first.

Daniel had chosen to have the vasectomy because he’d wanted to enjoy his little indiscretions without the worry that some woman would try and trap him with an unexpected pregnancy.

Tempest smirked. His decision had been a little like closing the barn door after the cows got out. But he was so very selfish that he stole her dream for the sole purpose of continuing his.

She had known he was selfish. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Since the chief of police had come to their home and told her about Ben, she had been contemplating taking this step. Alone, of course. She’d even purchased a hefty dose of what she would need to do the job. But then, when she’d learned the rest, she had known the two of them had to do this together.

Over the voices from the past clamoring in her head, Tempest heard the front door open and then close.

He was here.

She sat perfectly still, waited for him to enter the room.

He stood there, staring at her. “Dear God, woman, I thought something terrible had happened.”

Selfish, selfish man. Something terrible had happened . . . to their son. Had he put the tragedy behind him so soon? Of course he had.

She patted the sofa beside her. “Sit down, Daniel. Have a drink with me. There is something we need to discuss.”

Outrage washed across his face. “Did you actually summon me here for no other reason than to have a drink and some frivolous chitchat?”

“I did. You go to the country club with your friends quite often. Why not have a drink and chat with me?”

He took a breath, seemed to remind himself that his wife had suffered a great loss and had not yet put it behind her. The rage drained away, and he crossed the room and sat down next to her.

She picked up the tumbler of scotch and handed it to him. She even managed to smile. Then she reached for her stemmed glass of wine. She touched her glass to his. “To moving on.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Have you decided to try and move on beyond this horrible tragedy?”

“Yes.” She sipped her wine, the tiniest little sip.

“Good.” He knocked back a long deep slug of his own libation.

Tempest had known he would. He always drank scotch with enthusiasm.

She indulged in another sip of wine. “I had a visitor today.”

He downed the last of the scotch in the glass. “I certainly hope it wasn’t those damned detectives again.”

“No.” Tempest took a larger swallow of her wine. She moistened her lips. “It was Sela.”

He slammed the empty tumbler onto the tray. “What the hell? Are you hallucinating again?”

Tempest wanted to slap his face, but she lacked the energy. On Tuesday, she had gone into Ben’s bedroom—the one he’d grown up in—and had a talk with him. It had made her feel better to get everything off her chest . . . to say the words out loud. Daniel happened to walk past the door and hear her talking. He’d accused her of having lost her mind. Perhaps she had. Whatever the case, it hadn’t helped with the crushing pain that filled her every waking moment.

There was only one way to end that pain.

“Believe what you will,” she offered. It was almost over, in any event.

“If she was here, why didn’t you call me?” he demanded with a smirk—the sort that expressed how little respect he had for her even after all these years together.

“She needed to speak with me privately.”

His gaze narrowed with faked suspicion. “What did she want?”

Tempest shook her head. “She wants nothing from us, Daniel.”

“Well,” he said, “that’s a relief.”

Tempest finished her wine and set the glass aside. She turned slightly to look her husband in the eye. “Tell me she was lying, Daniel. Tell me,” she pressed, “that you didn’t force her mother to agree to weekend after weekend of sexual favors. I would have expected such a thing from T. R. Everyone knows how he is—how his father was. But you? How could you do such a thing?”

Daniel blinked, but not before she saw the shock in his eyes. She almost smiled. She had his attention now.