“I’m saving time. You confront him. You ‘have words.’ He makes the boneheaded move of hitting you in the jaw, so you gut-punched him—”

“Gut-punch is a strong—”

My look silenced him. “Do I have the basics right?”

“You do.”

“Good. Anything else I should know?”

He considered, then said, “I am more concerned about him than before. No matter what I do—threats, blackmail, intimidation, or even civilized requests—the situation seems to deteriorate. I will admit that I’m not quite certain how to proceed. I could act on my blackmail threats…”

“The McNeil business?”

“No, that was merely a decoy. Morgan plugged the hole while I focused my attention elsewhere.”

“Is he really that dirty?”

“He’s a successful businessman. He has vulnerabilities. Mostly business problems that were resolved with a bribe to the proper parties. That’s common enough. It would, however, damage his political chances.”

I sighed and slid down in my seat. “If you’d told me he’d pull this crap a month ago, I’d have said you were delusional. The big question now is how this will affect you.”

“I’ll resolve it easily enough. It’s simply an embarrassing footnote to my career.”

When silence fell, I said, “To completely change the subject, I talked to that Huntsman tonight. The one who gave me the tusk.”

I told him what happened. Well, most of it. I didn’t explain exactly where I’d been or what I’d been doing when I met him. I also didn’t tell Gabriel what the Huntsman had said about him.

“It sounds crazy, right?” I said.

“It does.”

“What if it is? If I’m being set up with some crazy-assed scheme? Oh, look, I’m a special snowflake and dark supernatural forces are fighting over me. Maybe I’m just unbalanced enough these days to actually fall for it.”

“While I wouldn’t eliminate the possibility it’s an elaborate scheme for some criminal purpose, that does seem unlikely. And you aren’t unbalanced. At least, not enough to fall for such a story.”

“Thanks,” I said.

We exchanged a smile and then lapsed into silence, watching the sunrise.

We were about to leave when James phoned.

“I’m going to answer,” I said. “Otherwise, he’ll keep calling.” I picked up with a warm “Hey, there,” which earned me a full five seconds of silence.

Then James said, “I take it you haven’t spoken to Richard.”

“Ricky? Sure. Thanks for letting me know about Gabriel. He’d have been in that cell until morning if you hadn’t called.”

More silence. Then, “I’m guessing that’s sarcasm.”

“Irony, actually, but close enough. I am glad I got the heads-up to bail him out, though I’m not nearly so impressed that you put him in there in the first place.”

“That I put him in there? The man put me in the hospital.”

“A punch to the stomach for a right hook to the jaw. You reap what you sow. I hope you’re okay, but I’m not going to pretend it isn’t your fault.”

Another five seconds of silence. “What has happened to you, Liv? Is this his influence?”

“Yes. Completely, because I was such a sweet little doormat before.”

“I’m concerned about you, Liv.”

“You don’t need to be. Now—”

“There are people out there who are very worried about Gabriel Walsh and his influence on you.”

I gripped the phone. “Who?”

“It’s not important. I’m calling because I regret what happened, and I want to make amends. I’d like to drop the charges.”

“I would appreciate that.”

“Good. Then you’ll join me for dinner?”

“Um, no. It’s over, James, and as much as I regret how that happened—”

“Do you want those charges dropped, Olivia?”

It was a few moments before I could reply. “That sounds like extortion.”

Gabriel’s head whipped my way, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course not,” James said. “I’m just saying—”

“That you’ll drop the charges if I go to dinner with you.”

“No,” Gabriel said. “Absolutely not.”

“Is that—?” James began.

“Of course it is,” I snapped. “You called at two in the morning to tell me he was in jail. Do you think I’m just going to bail him out and take off? If this is about getting me away from Gabriel, it was a dumb-ass move, wasn’t it? The more you threaten him, the closer I’ll stick to watch out for him.”

“And the same for threatening you,” Gabriel rumbled. “Tell him I don’t want the charges dropped.”

“James? I’m sure you caught that.”

No answer, but I swore I could hear him seething.

Gabriel continued, “Tell him that dropping the charges suggests they had merit, and that he was coerced into withdrawing them. I will get them dismissed, instead. The only question is whether he wishes to go public with them.”

“Hell, yes, I’m going public,” James said as I put the phone on speaker.

“Excellent. I will save you the trouble and place the calls myself.”

“So you can lie to the press?”

“No, so I can tell the truth. About the harassment my client and employee is receiving at the hands of her ex, and how my attempt at a private discussion, following a documented late-night call from him, resulted in a physical altercation. I regret what occurred, but I would strongly suggest that the other party seek counseling, as he presents an obvious danger to others, most alarmingly the ex-fiancée who is struggling to rebuild her life after the tragic revelations of the past two months.” He paused. “How does that sound?”

“If you—”

“If you run with your story, they will contact me for a quote, and that is the one I will give. Now, it’s late. Or early, as the case may be. Good day, Mr. Morgan.”

I hung up.

CHAPTER SIXTY

I went in to work with Gabriel. I didn’t have an official shift, but I’d sent out some feelers, building those victim profiles for my parents’ case, and I hoped one of them might have paid off in the form of a possible interview. Calls would come to Lydia. I didn’t even get a chance to ask her about them. As soon as we walked in, she stood, motioning that she needed to speak to me. Gabriel continued on to his office.

Once the door closed behind him, Lydia picked up an envelope off her desk. “This came for you.”

It was a letter-sized white envelope. On the front, it said OLIVIA TAYLOR-JONES in careful block letters. As soon as I saw those letters, I went still. I saw that handwriting, and I flashed to a Christmas gift label. My name on it, in the same printed letters. TO EDEN. LOVE DADDY.

“Todd,” I whispered.

My gaze shot to the return address on the back, which confirmed it. Lydia caught my elbow, and I realized it was shaking. She nodded toward the meeting room door. I let her usher me inside. I made my way blindly to the table, dropped the letter on it, and sat there staring at it.

“I could call Gabriel in, if you’d like,” she said. When I shook my head vehemently, she said, “That’s what I thought. Not exactly Mr. Empathy. He means well…” She trailed off, then checked that the door was closed before sitting beside me.

“Todd’s probably telling me why he won’t see me,” I said, indicating the envelope. “He doesn’t think it’s wise. Or he just doesn’t want to, after all these years.”

I thought of what Gabriel had said, that Todd had kept looking for me long after Pamela had given up. Now that I’d turned up, had he realized he wasn’t going to get that fantasy reunion with his little girl? That I wasn’t his little girl anymore, but a grown woman, a stranger?

I remembered going to a state fair with my adoptive dad when I was eight. It was magical—all bright lights and whirling rides and delicious treats. I’d returned at eighteen and wished I hadn’t—the lights had been garish, the rides dilapidated, the treats seeming to guarantee food poisoning. Memories forever tainted. Is that what Todd feared?

“That might not be why he’s writing,” Lydia said.