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“Alex has some unfinished business with her stepfather,” Chloe said. “They can tell you about it. I’ll see you two later.”

When she was gone, Luke pulled her to her feet. “I’ll take you back to meet Talia so you can search for Marcy/Darcy’s family.” He hesitated. “You don’t really buy that tripe about bad stock, do you?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t seem to matter if it’s nature or nurture in this case. Both suck, for Daniel and me. It’s no wonder Simon became such a monster.”

“But you and Daniel became good people.”

She made her lips curve even though her stomach churned worse than before she’d come in. “Two outta three ain’t bad?”

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 10:00 a.m.

Charles was laying out his black suit when his cell phone rang. “Paul. Well?”

“It’s done. I appreciate the heads up. That sketch artist had done a damn good job. Anybody at APD who saw that sketch would have recognized me in two seconds.”

“You got her original sketch and all copies?”

“Yes. The artist had already uploaded it to GBI’s server, but she erased it before I erased her. And today,” he said with a smile in his voice, “I got a new assignment.”

Charles stopped fussing with his tie selection. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it seems the GBI Investigative Unit is a little shorthanded at this time, since so many of their agents are either dead or hospitalized.”

“Yes, I imagine their ranks are rather depleted at the moment. So?”

“So, they’ve asked APD to help guard those they think are still at risk from Bobby. I volunteered for duty.”

Charles sat down, his pulse increasing. “You’re guarding Susannah?”

“Not quite. Papadopoulos kept that job. But close. I’m guarding the venerable and brave Daniel Vartanian.”

Charles’s smile broadened. “Excellent. Where will you be?”

“I’m stationed outside his house while he convalesces. I’m supposed to keep the press away as well as any potential bad guys.”

“We’ll see that he has a lot of peace and quiet,” Charles said. His smile vanished. “I assume his personal nurse will be with him, that Alex Fallon.”

“I assume so.”

“They killed Toby Granville.”

“Mack O’Brien killed Granville, Charles, not Daniel Vartanian or Alex Fallon.”

“I don’t care. The events were set in motion because of Vartanian and that nurse of his. He and Fallon killed one of mine. They’ll pay for that. I have to go now. There’s another funeral today and I have to dress.”

“Who’s getting buried this time?”

“Congressman Bowie’s daughter, Janet. We’re expecting the press to descend like locusts. The traffic will be unbearable. The funeral, burial, and the lunch in the church afterward will make this an all-day affair. Text me if you need me. I won’t be able to use my cell phone in the church.”

“Will do.”

Charles eyed the surgical kit he’d used to patch Bobby up the night before. It had been a Christmas gift from Toby Granville. Charles had gotten a lot of use from it this week already between Judge Borenson and Bobby Davis. He thought Toby would have been happy to know that. “And Paul, don’t kill Vartanian yourself. Bring him to me.”

“Put him in the usual place?”

“Yeah. You’ll need to dispose of Judge Borenson, though.”

Paul grunted in disgust. “How long has he been dead, Charles?”

“He might still be alive. I haven’t checked on him in a few days.”

“Have you gotten everything you needed to know from him?”

“Yes. If he’s not dead yet, do what you wish to him. And make Daniel watch.”

“What about the sister?”

“I’ll take care of her in my own way.”

“Do it fast. When GBI discovers that the sketch artist is dead, they’ll just have Susannah work with another artist. She could bury me. You promised she wouldn’t.”

“And she won’t.”

“You should have killed her years ago, Charles.”

“She’ll die today,” Charles snapped. “I have to go. Keep in touch.”

Atlanta, Monday, February 5, 10:45 a.m.

Luke and Susannah found Chase in his office with a uniformed officer, a young man with a sketch pad under one arm. “We’re back,” Luke said.

“Come in,” Chase said, tersely. “Susannah, too.”

Luke and Susannah shared an uneasy glance. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“The sketch artist didn’t show up for duty this morning. Pete found traces of blood in her apartment. Ed’s there now.”

Luke blew out a breath. “Hell.”

Susannah pursed her lips. “Her sketches were gone?”

Chase nodded. “From the apartment and from our server. They were wiped before the server did its nightly backup. This is Officer Greenburg. He’s one of APD’s sketch artists. Susannah, we need another description. You can use the conference room.”

“Of course,” she murmured. She stood, straightening her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“Did Garth give you anything?” Chase asked when she was gone.

Luke hesitated. “Nothing on Barbara Jean we didn’t already know except she had a swastika ring that probably branded all the girls in the morgue. Susannah’s is twice as big, though, so there’s still another branding tool out there.”

“What else?” Chase asked shrewdly. “There’s more.”

Luke sighed. “Garth wasn’t involved in Susannah’s assault. He said the same thing you did-that Jared O’Brien would have bragged about it. Apparently Granville had claimed… possession of Susannah. He said she was his and for the others to stay away.” He looked away. “Garth also said there was more between Simon and Carol Vartanian than there should have been.”

“Oh God,” Chase said in disgust. “How’d Susannah and Daniel turn out okay?”

“Must’ve been raised by wolves,” Luke muttered. “They’d have done a better job. But that was mostly it. Garth gave us names of people Bobby lunched with in Atlanta, but they were just her johns. So we’re nowhere closer to finding Bobby. I’m going to go over to Nate’s office to search Mansfield’s hard drives. Maybe Mansfield did get a shot of the man Monica Cassidy heard. Besides, Nate’ll need a break. He had a hard night.”

“I heard he’d found those kids on a podcast. I’m sorry, Luke.”

“Yeah,” Luke said bitterly. “Me, too. But one thing at a time. If you need me, use the land line in The Room. My cell phone doesn’t always pick up in there. And Chase…” Luke shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Yeah, I know. I also know Talia won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I know.” He closed his eyes. “I just keep seeing Susannah getting shot out of her chair yesterday. Bobby Davis is still out there.”

Chase’s words were hard, but his voice gentle. “So go do your job and find her.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Atlanta, Monday, February 5, 11:05 a.m.

I hate this job,” Luke muttered. He’d been staring at the door to The Room, feeling claustrophobic before he even opened the door. The door opened and he jumped back.

A startled Nate stood in the doorway, an empty coffee carafe in one hand. “Don’t do that,” Nate said tightly. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Luke looked at the pot. “How much coffee have you had, man?”

“Too much and not enough. What are you doing here?”

“Mansfield’s hard drives. The Sweetpea files. We’re hoping Mansfield got a picture of the man Monica Cassidy heard with Granville.”

“The mysterious thích. I’ll make a fresh pot.”

Luke hesitated, the pressure on his chest suddenly so heavy it was hard to breathe.

“You won’t find him standing there,” Nate said quietly. “It’ll be easier to breathe once you step inside.”