“I think there’s a thread of a connection, but I don’t think that thread has anything to do with Eric Beale. I think he was an unfortunate victim of something else, something to do with Taylor ’s nephew. I think Shannon ’s disappearance was merely an unfortunate coincidence as far as Eric was concerned. A convenient means of getting rid of him.”

“Do you see a connection between Shannon ’s disappearance in 1983 and her murder in 2007?” Dorsey turned to face him. “I feel there has to be something that ties one to the other. I just don’t know what that something is.”

“Neither do I, but I agree there’s something there, and there are a whole lot of pieces to this puzzle.” He opened his car door and started to get out. Over his shoulder, he added, “I’m hoping sooner or later we’ll be able to put them all together and see the whole picture.”

“Wow, those white columns really stand out against those redbrick walls, don’t they.” Dorsey rolled down the window to get a better look at the home of Aubrey Randall, the self-styled Southern version of Martha Stewart.

It wasn’t a question.

“She certainly does seem to like that antebellum look.” Andrew parked in front of a tidy boxwood hedge. “I could swear I heard the theme from Gone With the Wind while we were driving up that long drive from the road.”

“You too? I thought it was just me. Eleanor Taylor’s got nothing on Aubrey.”

“Except of course, Eleanor’s got the real thing. Aubrey’s is all new construction. A mere copy of the real thing.”

“Well, copy or no, I’m impressed.”

Andrew turned off the engine and stared at the house.

“It looks like she’s home. Assuming that’s her Mercedes over there.”

“The license plate is AGR. Aubrey some-middle-name-that-begins-with-G Randall.” Dorsey opened her door. “I don’t see another car, though, so maybe the senator hasn’t arrived yet. Which would be good, because I’d rather we have some time with Aubrey alone.”

“If they’ve concocted a story, for whatever reason, it’s already done. They know what they’re going to say.” Andrew got out of the car and took a good look around. “Nice gardens. Nice horses out back. Very nice.”

“I’d say Miz Aubrey does quite well for herself.”

“She’s a local star on her way to the big time, right?”

Dorsey looked around at the lush grounds and the beautiful house that stood before them.

“I’ll bet it would hurt like hell to give up all this. I’ll bet someone who had all this would fight tooth and nail if they thought they were in danger of losing it.”

“Your point?”

“Just that if this were mine, I’d feel really anxious if something threatened to take it from me, that’s all.”

“Something like a sister who’s supposed to be dead turning up with a record of numerous arrests for prostitution.”

“Yeah. Like that.”

“How do you think those network folks would feel about giving Aubrey a shot at the big time with a scandal like that just beginning to break?” Dorsey said.

“I’d say it would be pretty unfortunate timing.”

“Unfortunate enough that you’d do something really desperate?”

“You know what they say.” Andrew glanced around as they walked. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

The path they walked along was red brick to match the house, laid out in a herringbone pattern that led right to the front door. Breezy daylilies grew around the steps in clumps and vied with huge puffs of hydrangea for attention.

“Nice,” Dorsey said again. “Very nice. Tasteful, even, and-”

“Agents Shields and Collins?”

The woman who opened the door was tall and willowy, her features as finely chisled and delicate as her younger sister’s were sharp. Her blond hair curled around her face in a short and charming cut. She wore a pale pink T-shirt tucked into the waist of a slim denim skirt, lots of silver jewelry, and a welcoming smile.

“I’m Andrew Shields, this is Dorsey Collins.” Andrew smiled back as warmly. “Miss Randall?”

The woman barely glanced at Dorsey. Andrew had her total attention.

“Aubrey.”

“Aubrey,” he repeated with a smile meant to charm. “This is quite a place you have here.”

“Well, thank you.” Aubrey Randall beamed as she stepped out onto the small square that served as the front porch. “Would you like a quick tour while we wait for my sister?”

“We’d love it. Thanks.”

“Where would you like to start?” She folded her arms over her chest, her eyes never leaving Andrew’s face. “We have the stables, the pond, the gardens…”

“I noticed some horses out in the pasture there,” he said. “How about we start there?”

“Sure thing,” she drawled and stepped between Andrew and Dorsey. “Are you a horseman, Agent Shields?”

Aubrey sidled up to Andrew and touched his arm in a follow-me gesture. The two of them walked side by side down the walk, leaving Dorsey to roll her eyes and tag along, Aubrey chatting incessantly, Andrew occasionally nodding agreeably. Aubrey was playing the Southern belle, and Andrew was playing along.

“You, there, Sugar Plum. You come on over here and be sweet,” Aubrey called to the chestnut mare that pranced inside the fence. “Come say hello to our new friend, Andrew.”

The horse leaned over the fence just as a car sped up the drive. State Senator Natalie Randall-Scott parked her sedan next to Andrew’s and jumped out. She wasted no time in hurrying over to the fence.

“Natalie, honey, you’re just in time. This is Agent Shields-” Aubrey began the introductions and her sister cut her off.

“I know who he is. Agent Collins, Agent Shields.” Natalie offered her hand first to Dorsey, then to Andrew. “Natalie Scott.”

Before either of them could respond, she turned to her sister and said, “So much for keeping this whole mess under wraps.”

She pointed toward the end of the drive. “I’ve had two news vans following me since I left my office. I had to call the state police to send a few troopers over to block off the drive here and to limit access to my home.”

“So the story’s out,” Dorsey said.

“Apparently,” the senator responded dryly. “Out with a vengeance.”

“Then I suggest we warn Mother and Paula Rose,” Aubrey said.

“I’ve already called everyone. Chief Bowden is on his way over to Sylvan Road. He’ll do the best he can to keep things under control there. I’m wondering if we should move Mother and Father here until this blows over. I think we need to…” Natalie stopped herself, then turned to the agents and said, “I’m sure you can appreciate how difficult this has been for our family. I don’t want our parents unduly harassed by the media. This entire thing has been simply…” She sought the right word.

“A mess,” Aubrey said. “It’s just a damned mess.”

“Aubrey,” Natalie chided her.

“Well, it is. There’s just no other way to describe it. It’s a damn mess and it’s got Momma and Daddy just beside themselves.” Gone was the Southern lady who’d been trying to sweet-talk the hunky FBI agent into forgetting why he was there. “If she was alive, she never should have gone away, and she never should have stayed away all this time. She should have come home.”

“Aubrey, you and I both know Shannon wouldn’t have taken off on her own,” Natalie interjected. “You know she had to have been forced. Kidnapped, maybe by someone involved in white slavery. You hear about that all the time now, but it’s nothing new. Whoever it was who took her forced her onto a path she never would have followed willingly.”

Spoken like a true politician, Dorsey thought.

“Well, of course she was forced, Natalie. Of course she wouldn’t have done those terrible things if she’d had a choice. But she could have come home before this. She could have escaped and come home long before now.” Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t blame her for leaving. I know she didn’t have a choice being abducted back then. But I do blame her for staying away as long as she did, making us all suffer all these years…making Momma so sad and Daddy so bitter.” Aubrey’s eyes welled with tears.