Theo pushed away from the wall and hurried as fast as he could without breaking into a run. He stabbed the call button for the elevator and prayed it would arrive and take him away before Swanner left Lewis’s office and caught up with him.

The bell dinged, and the doors opened. He relaxed a fraction as he stepped inside and pushed the button for the lobby. He moved to the back of the car and leaned against the wall as the doors started to close.

Thank God.

At the last possible second, an arm suddenly thrust between the doors, and they slid apart. Swanner stepped inside and glanced at the keypad. As the doors closed again, he moved to the opposite back corner and leaned against the wall.

Theo stared straight ahead.

He practically held his breath until the car bumped to a stop at the lobby level.

Rather than wait for the doors to open, he moved forward and waited so close to the doors that his nose nearly touched the cool steel.

When the doors slid apart, Theo shot out like a racehorse exiting the gate. He walked straight up to the reception desk and fished for his phone to give Swanner time to exit the building.

He was not cut out for this kind of shit.

The receptionist smiled at him. “May I help you, Mr. Thompson?”

He shook his head and spoke the most truthful words he had ever uttered. “I don’t think anyone can help me.”

He left the building and considered the consequences of simply running away . . . or exiting this nightmare some other more permanent way.

Lewis was right. He was a coward. He’d always been one.

56

3:30 p.m.

Birmingham Police Department

First Avenue North

They stood on the street. Kerri and this new partner of hers. She glanced at him. His hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped like someone had kicked his dog.

He turned to her. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we were escorted here like a couple of common criminals.” She glanced up at the revered building that had been her second home for better than a decade. Fury ignited anew inside her. “We were forced to wait a half hour while the chief did whatever he did.”

Seriously. They had been dragged to his office, and the man had them twiddling their thumbs for thirty damned minutes.

She reached for calm. Falco waited patiently for her to find it and continue.

“Then he rakes us over the coals about how we’ve made the whole department look bad by bullying esteemed citizens like Thompson and York.”

Breathe.

“He didn’t mince words, partner,” Falco pointed out. “If we even breathe close to Thompson or York, we get suspended or worse. We can’t talk to them. We can’t . . .” He blew out a big breath. “Do shit.”

The part that pissed Kerri off the most was that the LT hadn’t said a word. He had simply sat there, deferring to the boss.

Kerri shook her head. She couldn’t blame him. Why should he jeopardize his career for two detectives going rogue on him without any real evidence to back up their accusations?

“I know what I have to do.” There was no question in Kerri’s mind. There was a very strong possibility that her niece was tangled up in this somehow. She could not—would not—back off. They were too close to finding the truth. She turned to her partner. “I have to finish this, Falco. I don’t want you to do anything to risk your career. Just because I’m willing to gamble with mine doesn’t mean you have to do the same. I’ll understand if you’re out. I’ve got this.”

He stared at her as she spoke. “Miss By-the-Book-We-Have-Protocols is going to buck the chief of police?”

“I am. You can go back in there and write up your report saying Sela Abbott killed her husband and some woman posing as her mother if you want to. Hell, she’s probably dead anyway. But I can’t do that.” She squared her shoulders. “It’s up to you. What do you say?”

He shrugged. “I say fuck ’em. Let’s do this thing, Devlin.”

She smiled. “Good.”

“But I’m driving. You’re too damned slow.”

They had just climbed into his Charger when her cell vibrated. Kerri reached for it. Dispatch. “Devlin.”

She listened as the officer on the other end of the line listed the location of a possible murder-suicide scene. “On my way,” she cut in without hearing the rest.

She didn’t need any other details.

She knew the victims.

Abbott Residence

Saint Charles Drive, Hoover

The ME was already on the scene when Kerri and Falco arrived.

Two police cruisers and the crime scene unit van were in the driveway. Yellow tape was being reeled along the front yard from one immaculately manicured shrub to the next.

Officer Ted Olson met them at the door. “The bodies are in the family room.”

Kerri and Falco donned shoe covers and gloves and headed to the room where they had met with Daniel and Tempest Abbott on two occasions. Dr. Moore was stooped over Mrs. Abbott’s body where she lay on the sofa. Daniel Abbott was sprawled facedown on the Persian rug.

One step forward, two steps back. Damn.

As Falco walked around the room, Kerri joined the ME. “Anything yet on cause of death?”

“No visible injuries.” He pursed his lips a moment. “Considering the wineglass on the coffee table and the glass on the floor near the male victim, I’ll be testing for various poisons.”

“What about time of death?” Kerri wondered if they searched the house if they’d find one damned thing to explain the connection between Daniel Abbott and Jacqueline Carter/Stevens/Rollins beyond what Cross had given them about the house.

Probably not.

“They haven’t been dead long. An hour, hour and a half. I’d estimate time of death somewhere between noon and two.”

If they’d come here first—before the Thompson fiasco. Damn it!

“Devlin!” Falco sent her a look.

“Thanks, Dr. Moore.” Kerri pushed to her feet and went to the bar, where Falco waited. “You find something?”

He pointed to a drawer he had opened beneath the bar top. Two small vials lay next to the hand towels folded there.

“Looks like we have our answer.” She scanned the room, looking for any indication the couple had had company when their drinks had been served. “The only question is, Did one of them take this step, or was it someone else?”

Despite her best efforts, Kerri’s mind went immediately to York, Thompson, and Sela Abbott—in that order.

“Detectives.”

Officer Olson joined them at the bar. “I spoke to Mr. Abbott’s receptionist at his office. She said his wife called at twelve thirty and asked him to come home.”

Kerri looked to Falco, then said to Olson, “Call the security-monitoring company and find out if the Abbotts have cameras. We need to know if there was anyone here besides the wife when Mr. Abbott arrived. If they don’t, check with neighbors. Call in backup. We need at least two more officers interviewing the neighbors. If someone besides the Abbotts was at this house this afternoon, we need to know.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When Olson had walked away, Falco said, “I can’t decide if someone is tying up loose ends or taking out targets.”

He was right. Particularly considering what they knew about Daniel Abbott’s obvious connection to Sela’s mother. Ramsey was still MIA. Keaton was dead. Maybe Sela was as well. Now these two. Who was next?

The idea that Amelia could be on that list terrified Kerri.

“Either way,” she decided, “I think we should be keeping an eye on the only other two suspects we have before they disappear or end up dead too.”

“York and Thompson,” Falco agreed.

Falco leaned his head toward hers and spoke quietly. “Those two will either be doing more of this”—he nodded to the room at large—“or ending up like this.”

And if Amelia was involved in this, one or both likely knew where she was.

She and Falco were out the door when Kerri’s cell went off again. She checked the screen.

Jen.

A new wave of worry washed over Kerri.

O’Malley’s

Morris Avenue

At barely five o’clock O’Malley’s was already crowded. It was Friday; folks were ready to get their weekend started. Kerri scanned the bar and tables looking for Jen’s red hair.

Jen had called and asked Kerri to meet her here. She’d insisted it was urgent. Couldn’t wait. It wasn’t like she and Falco had anything else to do. They were ten days in, and though they had gleaned a great number of details and had numerous theories, they basically had nothing that would push them to the next step—arrests.

And the chief had just told them to stay clear of their prime suspects.

They had both promptly decided to ignore the order.

There was an upside to Jen’s call—it wasn’t about Diana or Amelia. No change there. As much as Kerri was desperate to find her niece, she was grateful there was no bad news just yet. Like the old saying, sometimes no news was good news.

Just not for a homicide investigation.