“He gets arraigned tomorrow.”

“We’ll have him followed in case he’s more involved in this than we believe. Ed?”

“We found Becky’s body buried outside Beardsley’s cell. Beaten to death.”

“So we have one more confirmed body.” Chase closed his eyes for a moment. “Get me a picture of Becky. I’ll ask the media to help identify her. And,” Chase looked at Susannah, “Gretchen French has scheduled a press conference for four this afternoon.”

“That’s right. In the Grand Hotel. She’s expecting it to be standing room only.”

“We’ll need video surveillance and security teams at the Grand, metal detector required. Bobby might be arrogant enough to come and bask in her glory.”

“Or get another shot at Susannah,” Luke said quietly.

Chase looked at Susannah again. “Where are you going next?”

“To the hospital,” she said. “There are some things I need to discuss with Daniel.”

Her paternity for one, Luke knew. Frank Loomis’s reasons for his falsifying evidence thirteen years ago, for another. “I’ll go with her. I still need to find out who tampered with Ryan Beardsley’s IV. It could be this ‘other’ that we’re looking for.”

“Fine. Be careful, everyone,” Chase said. “Keep in contact and meet back here at two-thirty for a briefing before Gretchen French’s press conference.” Everyone began to file out, but Chase signaled Luke to stay.

“Luke, you’ve been going 24/7 for the last week,” Chase said. “You found the girls.”

“Bobby’s still out there,” Luke began, but Chase waved him silent.

“I’ve got every agent in this department working to find her.”

“Are you taking me off this case?” Luke demanded, anger beginning to boil up.

“Relax. No, I’m not taking you off the case, but I want you healthy and dependable. We’ve taken the wind out of Bobby’s sails for now,” Chase said. “She’s probably regrouping. So go home, recharge. Come back better prepared to track her down.”

“All right. As soon as I’ve taken Susannah to see Daniel, I’ll go home and crash.”

Dutton, Sunday, February 4, 9:00 a.m.

Bobby snapped the phone shut. Her GBI mole had thought their relationship was finished, just because Bobby had lost a little ground. But secrets were still valid currency, especially now. They know who I am. It meant she had to be more careful.

She scoffed. Kira Laneer thinks she knows where I am. But that Garth had known more than Bobby thought should not be ignored. Her husband was not a stupid man. Bobby didn’t plan to take any chances with Kira Laneer.

She dialed Paul’s number. “I need you.”

“I don’t think so, sugar. I’ve been watching TV and your ass is fried. Susannah Vartanian looked cute on the news stealing your inventory right out from under you.”

Fury bubbled up. “Don’t get smart. I have a job for you.” She gave him Laneer’s address. “Make it painless. She kept Garth from pawing at me, after all.” Bobby hated Garth, hated his touch. She’d borne his two brats, fulfilling her expectations as a Davis wife. The boys, however, had been a good accessory for her suburban housewife persona, and she’d been good to them. It was smart business to keep one’s cover healthy and smiling. “Kill Kira Laneer before she tells GBI what she knows.”

“Bobby, this is too much,” Paul said. “You can’t keep killing these people.”

“Just do as you’re told or I’ll make a call to the police about you.” It was the first time she’d ever threatened to. First time she’d felt the need. Shaking, she hung up. Garth’s victims would be talking to the press this afternoon. Susannah would be there. I will be, too. That GBI had increased security was useful information, although it made things more difficult. But Bobby knew how to manage the problem. Susannah, it’s time to die.

Dutton, Sunday, February 4, 9:03 a.m.

“I told you so,” Paul said to Charles, flipping his phone shut. “She’s out of control.”

Charles filled their cups with coffee. “She could also make good on her threat, and I need you to remain where you are. You’re useful to me in the police department.”

Paul’s jaw squared. “She won’t talk if you kill her first. Or let me do it.”

Charles lifted his brows. “But I’m not finished with her yet.”

“I’m not going to kill Garth’s mistress.”

Charles regarded him mildly over his coffee cup. “Yes, you will.”

Paul’s eyes flashed. “We have no idea what the Laneer woman even knows.”

“Pillow talk,” Charles mused. “We don’t know what Garth might have told Laneer. I’ll choose where and when to divulge information.” His eyes narrowed, pleased to see Paul straightening in his chair. “I want Bobby at that press conference this afternoon.”

“Why?” Paul sounded petulant, just as he had as a small boy.

“Because that’s where Susannah will be. Bobby won’t be able to resist.”

“That’s why you wanted me to goad her about Susannah stealing her inventory.”

Charles pointed to Paul’s plate with his fork. “Eat your eggs, son. They’re getting cold. Then get over to Kira Laneer’s. You can take my car.”

Paul jabbed at his breakfast. “Let Bobby do her own damn dirty work for once.”

“I don’t want Bobby going over there to do her own dirty work,” Charles said sharply. “In her current mood, she’ll get caught and I’ll miss my live show at four.”

Atlanta, Sunday, February 4, 9:30 a.m.

Filled with uncertainty, Susannah stopped in the doorway of Daniel’s hospital room. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been in ICU and she’d been crying all over him.

Now, standing here, was an awkward moment. He lay in the bed with his eyes closed, Alex by his side reading a magazine. “How is he?” she whispered to Alex.

“He’s fine,” Daniel answered. He opened blue eyes that could be glacial, warm, or sad. Now they were warm. “I saw you on the news. You found the girls. Congrats.”

“Thank you.” Susannah sat on the edge of a chair, wanting to flee. Luke stayed behind her, his hands on her shoulders. She folded her own hands in her lap, primly. “Daniel, I have something to tell you and it’s going to be something of a shock.”

Luke gently kneaded her shoulders. “You’re making it worse. Just tell him.”

Daniel was looking up at Luke balefully. “What?” he said, carefully enunciating.

“Relax,” Luke said easily, a hint of humor in his voice. “I haven’t laid a hand on her.”

Yet. Susannah could feel the word hover in the air, and her cheeks heated, not in embarrassment or fear, but in excitement. Yet. It was seductive. Powerful. She thought of the box in his bedroom. Yet. It was a portent of things to come. But not now, she thought, preparing to deliver what would be both balm to Daniel’s heart, and a dagger.

“It’s about Frank Loomis,” she blurted.

“What about him?” Daniel asked stiffly, going very still.

“We visited Angie Delacroix early this morning, hoping for some answers, and got a lot more than we bargained for. It seems Angie has been having an affair with Frank Loomis for years. But he wouldn’t marry her, because he loved someone else. Mother.”

Daniel blinked, his lips falling open in surprise. “Our mother?”

“Yes. And, it was mutual between them, at least once.” She drew a breath, let it out. “Arthur Vartanian is not my father. Frank Loomis is.”

Daniel slowly sagged. He stared at Susannah, then up at Luke. “Are you sure?”

“I gave Ed a DNA sample before we came here,” she said. “We’ll know tomorrow.”

“But it makes other pieces make sense,” Luke said, briefly squeezing her shoulders.

Susannah hesitated, then took her brother’s hand. “Angie said thirteen years ago Simon did something so terrible that Frank couldn’t make it go away. She said Mother begged him to take care of ‘it’ and Frank did. For Mother.”