My pulse quickened. “I hadn’t told her then. I didn’t until we’d been coming to you for a while.”

But I’d had nightmares, the really bad ones that had been coming less frequently of late.


My phone buzzed again and I pulled it out. “Excuse me.”

It was Angus. I’m outside the office door, he’d texted first. This time, It’s urgent.

My spine stiffened. Angus wouldn’t disturb me without a very good reason. I stood. “I’ll have to cut this short,” I told Dr. Petersen.

He set aside his tablet and rose to his feet. “Is everything all right?”

“If not, I’m sure you’ll hear about it on Thursday.” I shook his hand quickly and left the office, passing through the empty reception area before stepping out to the hallway.

Angus stood there, looking grim. He wasted no time. “The police are at the penthouse with Eva.”

My blood turned to ice. I strode to the elevator with Angus falling into step beside me. “Why?”

“Anne Lucas filed charges of harassment.”


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My hand shook as I poured freshly brewed coffee into three mugs. I couldn’t tell if that was because I was so pissed off or because I was afraid. Certainly, I was both. Being a cop’s daughter, I understood the unwritten rules followed by those who worked behind the blue wall of law enforcement. And after everything Gideon and I had been through regarding Nathan’s death, I was doubly on my guard now.

But it wasn’t Detectives Graves and Michna of the homicide division who wanted to speak to me. I couldn’t decide if that made me more or less anxious. They were the devil I knew, so to speak. And while I wouldn’t go so far as to call Shelley Graves an ally, she’d dropped the case when she still had questions without answers.

This time around, it was Officers Peña and Williams who had shown up on our doorstep.

And it was Anne Lucas who sent them my way. That fucking bitch.

I’d had to cut my appointment with Blaire Ash short, knowing it was unavoidable that the designer would pass the officers in the lobby when he exited the private elevator. I didn’t have time to worry about what he’d make of that. Instead, I took the brief time alone to call Raúl and tell him to find Arash Madani. I wanted to call Gideon, but he was with Dr. Petersen and I considered that more important. I could handle the police. I knew the basics: Have an attorney present and be succinct. Don’t elaborate or offer information not asked for.

Setting the three mugs of coffee on a serving tray, I searched for something to pour the half-and-half into.

“You don’t have to go to any trouble, Ms. Tramell,” Officer Peña said as he and his partner entered the kitchen with their hats tucked under their arms.

Peña had a baby face that made him look younger than he probably was, which I guessed was close to my age. Williams was a petite, curvy black woman, with sharp cop eyes that told me she’d seen things I would never want to.

I’d asked them to wait in the living room and they had followed me instead. That made me feel hunted, which I’m sure was part of their intention.

“It’s no trouble.” I gave up trying to be classy about the half-and-half and just set the carton on the island. “And I’m waiting for my attorney to arrive, so there’s really not much else for me to do in the meantime.”

Officer Williams eyed me coolly, as if she were wondering why I felt the need for counsel.

I didn’t have to justify myself but knew it wouldn’t hurt to let them know why I was cautious. “My dad’s on the job in California. He’d chew me out if I didn’t follow his advice.”

I grabbed the box of sugar I’d dug out of the pantry and set it on the tray before moving it all over to the island.

“Where in California?” Peña asked, grabbing a mug and taking his coffee black.


“San Diego area, right? Nice.”

“It is, yes.”

Williams took her coffee with a splash of half-and-half and a whole lot of sugar, which she poured straight from the box. “Is Mr. Cross here?”

“He’s in a meeting.”

She kept her gaze on me as she lifted her mug to her lips. “Who was the guy leaving when we came up?”

The deliberate casualness of her tone made me glad I’d sent word to Arash. I didn’t believe for a minute that the question was just small talk. “Blaire Ash. He’s the interior designer working on some renovations we’re doing.”

“You live here?” Peña asked. “We stopped by an apartment on the Upper West Side we heard was yours.”

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